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myalgicpierrot · 2 years ago

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[ID: a Daily Mail article by Ruby Sampson titled "'I was frozen to the spot in shock… it was said to intimidate': How a friendly chat in the ladies of a London pub turned menacing and plunged a Tory councillor, 22, into the clash between trans rights and women’s safety". It continues:

These days I don't feel safe going to the ladies' loo alone. That's a statement I never thought I'd make. It sounds crazy, doesn't it? I'm neither shy nor fearful, but after my experience at a Westminster pub earlier this month, that's how I feel. Frequented predominantly by civil servants, the Marquis of Granby is near where I work but it could just as easily have been any pub in the country. It was a Wednesday night and I was attending an event upstairs. Before heading home after a pleasant evening, I went to the ladies' loo, which has two cubicles. I emerged from mine at the same time as the woman next door, who, at about 6ft tall, towered over me. She wore a skimpy top which made her shoulders seem bigger. And she spoke with a strikingly deep voice. A trans woman. The lavatory was cramped and I had to stand directly behind her while waiting to use the wash basin.

The next image is another excerpt from the article: I thought, 'This is going well, I'm handling the situation fine.' I didn't treat her any differently. Why would I? We spoke about the paucity of loo paper, the dreadful taps and temperamental hand dryer. It was as she moved to the door to leave that it happened. I remarked that we had no choice but to awkwardly shake our hands dry, and she turned to me and replied: 'I'm going to wipe my hands on my penis.' With that, she disappeared. Until this, our conversation had been quite positive and pleasant.]

The gif show a woman walking down a street, beginning to panic as the camera zooms in on the signs of random shops, which say things like “Home O”, “out”, & “Lebanese”.

partial transcript of the stream:

[28:18] So I've been having a big laugh about this, I am. I do want to acknowledge the funny side to all of this, but like at the same time– it was funny for a couple of days and in the last day or so I'm really just left with the feeling that I have been sexually harassed in the national press…

You know, just to be clear about this being sexual harassment: the article talks about this woman, this penis woman's shoulders, her big broad shoulders, and it talks about her height, and her voice, and obviously it talks about her penis, right. And then it goes on, both in the article and in the letter, to fantasize about her being some kind of dangerous sexual predator, being some kind of sexual threat. And yeah, that is sexual harassment. It was sexual harassment when it's homophobic men saying to gay men, you know, "oh I've gotta watch myself around you, you might want to stick something in my bum", you know, that is sexual harassment to say that the other person might be some kind of sexual threat to them. It's sexual harassment when Black men are treated with suspicion around white women because they might be some kind of sexual threat to them. That is sexual harassment, treating someone's existence as inherently sexual because of the obsession of the bigot with the sex of the person, okay? It's not the first time that I've had this either– it's not the first time that I've had like, on a large, a huge platform, International platform in fact, like people speculating about my genitals, talking about my genitals constantly. And it's fucking disgusting.

There's this athlete called Linford Christie, you can look this up, he was a runner. He was a very impressive runner, and he was black and he'd beaten a bunch of white athletes. And the press, in talking about him kept on animalizing him. They kept on talking about him like he had this kind of raw animalistic power, right? And then they started publishing pictures focusing on his running shorts and his bulge. They kept on focusing on his bulge and talking about what was in his pants; they coined a phrase "Linford's lunchbox" for people to joke about it. And he went on to a talk show to discuss the whole situation, and he was just tired, and he was saying, "I want to be recognized for my running, you know? I train every day to be a good runner. I win those races because I'm a good runner, not because I'm black, and all anyone will talk about is my penis," and he cried. A grown man cried on national television because it's just fucking exhausting to be sexually harassed in the national and international press because of your immutable characteristics. It's fucking exhausting. And furthermore, it's fucking exhausting to be sexually harassed in a way that suggests that you are some kind of sexual predator or danger to people. And furthermore, and I'm talking about myself here, it's exhausting to be treated with suspicion that you might be some kind of sexual predator when you are literally the survivor of sexual assault– quite violent sexual assault at that, okay? It's fucking awful. I am still acutely processing having been assaulted; I tick a lot now. I didn't used to, but several times a day, sometimes dozens of times a day, my body will tell me that I'm in a fight and I try to guard my left side– because of things that have happened to me. And then this fucking opportunistic snake has seen a trans woman, obviously for the first time, otherwise she wouldn't be saying "Oh I thought I was handling it really well, I treated her just like a normal person even though obviously she wasn't", and publish this article insinuating that I might be some kind of sexual predator. It's fucking horrible. It's absolutely disgusting. I am still acutely processing what's happened to me and then I see an article in the national and international press to a massive massive audience calling me and people like me sexual predators.

And I'm fucking sick of it, and I shouldn't have to talk about this. Let's be completely clear here: I should not fucking have to talk about this. I should not have to use my time, my effort, my platform to talk about any of this, but I have to because of what these people are doing. Because I think about the– according to some reports nearly half, according to other reports over half of trans women who've been sexually assaulted, who see these articles every day. There are a thousand articles against trans people in the British press every month. That's 30 a day and you know that the nature of all of them implies that we are sexual predators. And I think about the possibly majority, probably majority, of trans women who've been sexually assaulted who see these articles calling us sexual predators. and I'm not just talking about other people who have no voice, but I'm talking about people who who have as much attention as I do, or even more: it's that fucking common. As a demographic, we are sexually assaulted massively disproportionately and I know other dolls who have been, who are also well known and they don't have to talk about it. They shouldn't have to talk about it. I shouldn't have to talk about it. None of us should fucking have to talk about it, but we shouldn't have to be dealing with the trauma, dealing with the weight of having had this thing happen to us and then see articles, 30 a fucking day, in our press calling us predators. That is disgusting and I am sick of it. I am fucking sick and tired of it and I've had enough…

[42:05] I think Ruby Sampson has put herself in an unfortunate situation. She's got a little dilemma, because she's liked tweets from her friends that make it clear that like, they don't care if she was lying. They don't care if she misheard jeans for penis. They believe that trans women should not be in women's bathrooms because they believe trans women are men, and dangerous sexually predatory men at that. She's stayed off of Twitter and refused to post anything for a couple of days. All of this strongly suggests that she knows that it was me.

So, as I see it Ruby has about four options. First of all, and this would be the right thing to do, she could retract the article. She could take it down, and she could apologize, and she could say that obviously being trans does not have anything to do with it inherently that makes someone a sexual predator, and that it was wrong and sexual harassment. Now, I don't think that she's gonna do that, but it would be nice and it would be the right thing to do. Two; she could acknowledge that it's me. Now I don't think that's just gonna do that, because that would be libel. Three; she could try to prove that it was a different trans woman, but the only trans people at the pub that night were me and my friends. And I know my friends– and even besides just being human beings, I know on a personal level that none of them are going around saying "I'll wipe my hands on my penis", but even before we get to any of that, if Ruby's watching this and gets any ideas, I was the only one there who is six foot, has a deep voice, and was wearing a skimpy top. Lastly, number four, Ruby can– and this is probably what she's gonna do– quietly ignore the whole situation and hope it goes away. Acknowledge [Ignore?] that she tried to become a TERF grifter, to get a career as a TERF grifter, to make headway and profit off of bigotry. And she did it really badly, and she failed, and it's not going to be profitable to her, because even the TERF's haven't come out to defend this story. Now to be clear, they have been harassing me; They've been calling me a man, they've been calling me a sexual predator, they've been talking about my genitals, and my appearance, and my voice. Which is nothing at all like what women are used to experiencing when they are put into the public eye– doesn't resemble misogyny in the slightest. She can quietly ignore this, and hope it goes away, and see that being a TERF is not going to be fucking profitable for her, especially because she's really fucking bad at it. And that's probably the one that she's gonna do and I take that as a positive sign.

I think that we should all see the positive in this; that she's been so ridiculous and unknowingly picked such a bad target. She's found a case in which it doesn't fly and her lie is more ridiculous, far more convoluted than the obvious and simple truth. No one is saying "I'm gonna wipe my hands on my penis", people wipe their hands on their jeans everyday. There's probably someone doing it right now, somewhere…

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

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variousqueerthings · 3 years ago

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there's something about cobra kai's attitude towards parents/parenting, where parents fit into five roles as I see it atm:

AN ACTUAL PARENT: A character that you see onscreen more than once that directly impacts their biological offspring's character development on multiple occasions/across longer arcs (Daniel & Johnny)

ALLEGEDLY AN ACTUAL PARENT: the women who are around enough that you know they ought to be an influence on their kids and it's easy to read what that influence could be, but we don't get to see that much or any of that influence directly onscreen (Shannon, Amanda, Carmen). All the women on that list are in/have been in relationships with Johnny or Daniel

WHATSTHEIRNAME: a parent whom you see in one or two scenes that's just there to push a plot moment or character introduction forwards, and otherwise doesn't really factor into the kids' stories/growth (Eli/Hawk's mom, Kenny's dad, Aisha's mom, Sid) or a parent who is only mentioned (Kenny's mom, Eli/Hawk's other parent, Aisha's dad, Kyler's dad, Terry's parents, Kreese's mom, Daniel's dad, Johnny's bio dad)

MORE WOMEN: A parent who is factored just enough that you know there's potentially something to explore there, but it's not in the foreground to the point that you have to invent the dynamic based on tiiiny scraps of information (Laura, Tory's mom, Shannon again, arguably Rosa in both a parent and a grandparent role) or Lucille, who has built-in Emotions because we've seen her since the karate kid, but if you didn't watch those movies wouldn't feel as emotionally tethered to the story or Daniel, in the same way as, say, Miyagi does

YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM/DAD: and then there's "we know that narratively these are their parents, even though that's not how real life works" which is where you find most of the Focus of parenting stories going on: the OG one ofc was Miyagi for Daniel, and then there's Kreese for Johnny (and possibly for Tory), Daniel for Robby, Johnny for Miguel, (possibly Amanda for Tory in s5? they've lain the groundwork, c'mon one woman -- there were also strong hints of Amanda and Robby) -- does it matter that they're not biologically related? No. Does it matter that they may only have met a brief time before the decision to mentally adopt this kid? No. Congrats kid, you know have a bunch of new parents

It's interesting because there are certain kids that narratively do not have parents, even if they.... technically have parents (whether through having literally seen a parent, heard of a parent, or just because the assumption is There Is A Parent Even If We Never Hear Of Them)

There is a difference in how Johnny and Daniel treat Miguel and Robby, to how they treat Tory or Eli (Demetri briefly feels like a third sibling to Sam and Robby, but not after season 2 -- also see: any of the secondary characters at their dojos, who are simply students, even if some are shown to get on well with their senseis, like Devon and Johnny). In a narrative that's very driven by intergenerational parent-based conflict, there are some teen characters who aren't related to that conflict at all, and it's not necessarily a bad thing, it just makes them seem like karate orphans in an odd way, because the world is built on a different set of rules than ours is and your karate parent is just as much -- if not more -- your parent as whoever packs your school lunches

TL;DR: if you don't have a karate parent, then you're basically an orphan on this show

Hon mentions: the parents who show up at the school to trash the LaRussos for the school fight, and parents who come to karate tournaments, but otherwise may as well not exist

Also: I didn't mention Terry because so far he hasn't exhibited a parental bone in his body, which brings up the odd difference in his relationship with Daniel in comparison to all other karate mentor/mentee relationships, which was at least as informative as any parental influence, but uh... definitely not of that vibe....

I also wonder if Terry will become The Worst Parent Ever to Kenny and/or Tory (and then ofc there's Kim Da-Eun....)

#cobra kai #ck #cobra kai meta #rambleramble #i think the show is right and good to do this in terms of the karate parents #BUT once again it highlights some of its issues with allowing women to influence character and narrative (and in turn be influenced)#esp carmen -- I put carmen all over the place because she straddles this odd place of like... she SOMETIMES makes a decision #but she's not allowed to exist on her own and increasingly cannot make big decisions in relation to miguel because the writers #give all of those big Moments to johnny #long post

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fruitcage · 1 year ago

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After You Oughta Know hit the airwaves, they probably had people calling to ask them to stop 😂

Getting it out there proved more difficult. Before it broke, they had trouble getting stations to accept it. They were told that they had already met their female artist quota with Tori, Sinéad, and a third artist I'm forgetting now (maybe Melissa Etheridge or Liz Phair). Adding a fourth was not an option.

As far as I know, video play wasn't an issue. By then, she was bankable, and they knew they weren't going to bleed any money by supporting her. Ironic was on MuchMoreMusic almost every hour, along with this "little Alanis" parody by Alison Rheume. (Version 2)

Lilith Fair was met with mixed reactions. I want to say that it was better received by Canadians because it was Sarah McLachlan's baby. I didn't like it for that reason. It included a bunch of artists that I didn't like (but do now!) and excluded the one I loved the most: Alanis. So, I thought it was a waste of time. Now I look at those early lineups and start counting all the awesome names.

It was also dismissed by some as feminist garbage, and I admit that, at the time, that coloured my perception of it. I didn't understand why it was necessary, but my biggest problem with it was that it was tied to Sarah. Alanis was only one of three women (there's that magic number again) to play at Woodstock, and Jewel was introduced as being the one to kick off what they called the girl portion of the show.

Ani DiFranco got almost zero mainstream radio play that I can recall! Maybe she did, and I didn't hear it, but I've always regarded her and the Indigo Girls as slightly above-ground underground artists. They were around, but you weren't going to be hearing a lot of them on your average FM station. TV-wise, she was pretty popular on Much/MTV/VH1.

Melissa was everywhere with Come to My Window, even though that predated Lilith.

Paula Cole had a huge moment with I Don't Want to Wait and Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? I loathed her then and absolutely love her now. She was one of the ones whose star power had faded by the end of the decade, even though her song lived on in the opening credits of Dawson's Creek.

Last year, she spoke about being rejected for the same reason that Alanis was in 1995, except this happened in 2004.

Bruce Lundvall, who had signed a then-unknown Norah Jones only two years earlier, rejected the well-established Cole because "we have so many female vocalists/composers on the roster that I'm reluctant to commit to one more."

Steve Fererra passed on her because none of the songs were "money cuts." In his business, money is always going to be the bottom line, but Fererra would go on to back a bunch of artists from American Idol. Most of them were women. He didn't mind signing the ones who were chosen by popular vote.

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abloodymess · 4 years ago

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I am a music person. One of my earliest memories is listening to Patti Smith's Horses with my Mom as we washed dishes. The Velvet Underground, weird Jazz, Chicago Blues, 70s Soul, along with all the heavy hitters of classic rock (Stones, The Who, Beatles, Kinks, etc) were always coming out the stereo my entire childhood. As a child my Dad took me to see and meet all sorts of old blues guys, he also used me to sneak back stage, it was a good gimmick and I have fond memories of standing just off stage as Bonnie Raitt was about to take the stage, and her taking a shine to the 7 year old roaming around.

Anyways, I thought this was how all kids experienced music. When we moved and I started a new school (big 4th grade) and I tried to communicate my love of music, kids my own age had no idea what I was talking about. My first sense of a disconnect between myself and my peers of this farm town. Reading Thrasher and watching skateboard videos sure planted the seeds of a whole world of modern music I had not experienced yet.

I did not come online as a modern music fan until 91. My cousin noticed I was getting drawn into metal and hard rock; he took me aside and showed me this new band called Nirvana. He had Bleach and showed me it, "you like this?, they are playing in two weeks in Chicago, want to go?" Not sure how we got my mom to say yes, but my first concert without my folks was seeing Nirvana at the 1200 person club The Metro just before the Teen Spirit video broke. I honestly was kind of scared, but the energy and the feel of the electricity in the room changed me. I knew this is something I wanted to be part of. Are there more bands like this?

91-95 felt like it should have been a lifetime, looking back its crazy how small that window really was. How fast the mainstream was able to pounce on underground bands with really progressive ideals and just decimate them. They either died (literally or financially), went back to the underground, or imploded as the machine found copies of copies that could fit in the box but were easier to deal with. If Nirvana was a Pixies rip-off, I am not sure what you would call Days of the New when they showed up in 97. God bless REM for soldiering on. (I am generalizing here because there was A LOT of music that got marketed as “Girl Music” your Tori Amos, Fiona Apples, Natalie Merchants, all of a sudden this was music for girlfriends and should be separated to the Lilith Fair while “real music” was Creed or something? and I am not even touching Hip-Hop here) There was a moment though in the early/mid 90s where it was perfectly normal to see Cibo Motto on the same stage as Soundgarden, then something changed.

“Grunge” or whatever you want to call it was hollowed out and the imitators were fizzling out (some great singles in there but very few career groups), there was a push by radio to somehow hybrid cool DJ/Rave culture with rock culture and you got “Electronica” which was kind of soulless, but the good and pioneering electronic groups got a place in the sun. Rock though, it got hyper masculine (and not that Grunge wasn’t, but there was a sincerity and fragility that was removed) and fucking dethatched from any other feeling but anger, anything else was viewed as a weakness, there was no longer a sense of queerness or the feminine.

By 96 I was out, I wanted nothing to do with what was going on, so I turned inward and got real into early Emo bands and old Goth records, I was a full on punk with metal leanings. Screamy boys and girls who had nothing but “feelings” and sincerity bubbling out of themselves. We formed our bands and locked ourselves in basement across the country with our own shows and did our own thing, ignoring what was going on above ground. A nice deep sub-genre of a sub-genre to keep myself with not having to associate with what I saw as the meatheads taking over. (Again, not that there wasn’t dreadful misogyny, racism, and shitty shit going on where I was).

When I watched the documentary it was incredibly depressing. I can’t say if the documentary itself was good or bad, but the ideas presented, the where we were at that time and how we got there just kept rolling over and over in my head and how fast it happened from 94-99 a complete sea change happened. I don’t really have any insight to that, but its just staggering to go from waiting for a concert to start and having Food Not Bombs handing out flyers and a few short years later it is Girls Gone Wild getting girls to show their boobs (AND IT WAS THE SAME BAND just 2 years later and a really different fan base and energy).

Clearly the promoters of Woodstock 99 were at best evil dummies, who after all this time showed zero reflection and just wanted to blame women and Mtv or the bands or anyone but themselves. I do not think the documentary sides with them, but presents that is what these men believe. Honestly if anyone sides with those dudes, get some help. Corporate rock sucks and even the most well meaning bands get put in horrible positions time and time again. I will never understand how Rage Against the Machine is always at the most corporate shit-shows standing there like a bunch of assholes.

Anyways, sorry, I just needed to vomit out some words about this. I am just glad I wasn’t there, didn’t see myself reflected back, or see any of my friends.

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 16

A/N: Y’all this chapter is TEN THOUSAND WORDS DON’T EVEN @ ME YOU’RE WELCOME AND *STANLEY TUCCI VOICE* GIRD YOUR LOINS

January 9th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was going to go insane.

This was, perhaps, going to be the busiest day of her life thus far. This morning was the outdoor practice in Nathan Phillips Square. She and Peter were responsible for co-ordinating the photographers, videographers, and the team to get down to Nathan Phillips Square. Once there, Aberdeen was responsible for helping to manage every single every single member of the media who were attending and covering the event, as well as Mayor John Tory and all the wives and girlfriends in attendance. And though she had the afternoon off to get ready, tonight was the Night With the Blue and White, the organization’s biggest and most important event of the season. She’d been studying the guest list for weeks, making sure Brendan would know – or at least pretend to know, thanks to her – every guest in attendance, and Peter was doing the same thing for Kyle. She’d even bought a new dress and shoes for the occasion – fancier than anything she’d ever bought. She knew that a lot of important and influential people would be there donating their money to the MLSE Launchpad initiatives around the city. They were even hosting a grade three class of one of the schools who benefitted from the programs. It was going to be busy, but hopefully fun.

There were cameras everywhere. Aberdeen knew she’d probably get caught on a few of them, news ones or otherwise, but today, she didn’t care. There were more important things on her mind. Brendan was expecting a lot from her, and she knew she had to deliver. She knew she could deliver.

When she had everything she needed from the office, she made her way down to the locker room. She entered quietly as she saw all the guys in their long johns and extra base layers, listening to Keefe and Hakstol as they explained how the outdoor practice was going to be organized into teams and tournaments and points. The energy from the guys was palpable and she could feel it within herself, too. Cameras were already filming. She saw William, already with his balaclava on, flash a peace sign to the camera pointed at him.

When the guys began to put on their gear, she watched Brendan make his way across the room. He was already wearing his peacoat and scarf. “You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I can be,” she smiled.

“Here, wear this,” he said, handing her a knit Leafs toque, the same one all the guys were wearing as well. “You’re gonna need it. It’s freezing out there.”

Aberdeen put the hat on as Brendan held her clipboard for her. After adjusting it, she looked up at him. “How do I look?”

If this was William asking the question to her, she would have come up with some smart aleck remark – a Costco hot dog or a bottle of Tums in assorted berries flavour. But because it was Brendan, he said something much nicer. “Like you’re a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he smiled. It almost made her swoon. “Now let’s get this party started, shall we?”

***

“Devon! Devon! Your slot is up to interview John as he’s walking. You cameraman is ready to go live in ten.”

“Carrie, stick with Travis for now. Goat? Where’s Goat? We need him for the French interview.”

“Gerry, you can interview Kyle now, but you only have two minutes.”

Aberdeen was practically skipping to keep up with all the players and media walking through the Toronto streets as they made their way to a full Nathan Phillips Square. She didn’t have long strides like these hockey boys did with her short little legs. She noticed all the interviewers being where they needed to be to go live and let out a sigh of relief. Walking through the streets of Toronto, going on the subway, and having fans, constructions workers, commuters, and more stop the guys left, right and centre for autographs and pictures and selfies was one thing, but once they got to the actual square, with all the media, it was going to be mayhem.

And she needed to make sure they had Tim Horton’s cups around.

All the guys filed into the square, high fiving the waiting fans who were now screaming at their arrival before they went to the bench and started to put on their skates. Once they were all there and accounted for (Aberdeen honestly felt like she was on a school trip; she didn’t know how her mother did this with six year olds when she could barely corral a bunch of grown men), she made her way towards where the media was waiting. Peter was already there.

“Okay everyone!” he screamed out. Nobody heard him. “Everyone!” he screamed out again, louder this time, but still nobody heard him. “Journalists!” he tried one more time.

“HEY!!!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs. Every journalist and cameraperson there turned silent and looked her way. Peter looked at her in shock, not knowing she was capable of such a volume. “Alright! Listen up! You each have a designated station to place your cameras. You are to stay in your station throughout the practice and not encroach on the space of the others! Journalists and videographers, you’re following Peter who will lead you to your stations, where you are to remain until practice is finished, where you will then go into the media scrum! Photographers, you are going to follow me and I will lead you to your stations. Is everybody clear?!”

Everyone nodded their heads and divided themselves easily, with Aberdeen leading the photographers one way and Peter leading the journalists and videographers another. When she got back to her original spot, that’s when she saw John Tory. “Mr. Mayor! Hello! I’m Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant,” she smiled and shook his hand. She noticed he was wearing a Leafs varsity jacket. “Follow me, sir. You get the sweet spot behind the bench.”

“You know, I look forward to this event every year,” he made small talk with her as they began walking. “Did you say you were Brendan’s personal assistant?”

“Yes sir. Although after getting the team on the subway and over here, I feel like I’m herding cats,” she joked.

John Tory laughed. He’d laughed at a dumb joke she made. Her dad would be so proud of her. He’d probably brag at the next dinner party he and Orla had. “You’re very lucky, Aberdeen. I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

“I agree, sir.” Aberdeen tapped Brendan’s shoulder to get him to turn around. “Mr. Mayor, Mr. Shanahan, I’m sure you’re well acquainted.”

The two men shook hands. Brendan focused his attention quickly on Aberdeen. “Would you mind meeting Jennifer Spezza and waiting for the others?”

Aberdeen nodded, leaving the mayor with him as she went back to the entrance, near the stairs to the subway. Once there, she saw Jennifer waiting patiently. Jennifer smiled once she saw Aberdeen, and extended her arms to hug her. “It’s always nice to see you, Aberdeen,” she smiled.

“You too, Jen.”

“A bunch of the girls are coming together – Emma, Kat, Steph, Audrey, Saylor, and Alexis are coming together and should be here any second. Aryne, Bee, and Alannah are running a bit late because of Jace, but only by like five minutes,” Jennifer informed her.

“Okay, great. We’ll wait till everyone gets here and then I’ll bring everyone over,” Aberdeen nodded her head.

“How’s the day been so far?”

Aberdeen shrugged. “Hectic, but fine.”

“Have you breathed?” Jen joked.

Aberdeen giggled. “Barely.”

Only moments later, Kat was running up the stairs with Niylah on a harness and leash, and Emma carried Ralph in her arms. Aberdeen pet the dogs until Aryne, Bee, and Alannah showed up. Aberdeen led them all to their designated area, and stayed with them as the practice happened. She liked them – they were a nice group of women, and although Aberdeen was never inserted into any supposed drama she may have heard rumblings about, she was sure they were all good people. Once they were all there, Aberdeen knew her jobs for the day were done, and that she could breathe again. Unless Brendan called her to do anything else, she was free.

“Aberdeen, are we going to see you tonight?” Bee asked as the girls sipped on the complimentary hot chocolate provided for them.

“You bet,” she smiled.

“Oooooooh!” Jen smiled from beside Bee, hopping excitedly. “What are you wearing?!”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Aberdeen winked.

“What colour is it?” Bee asked.

“Green.”

“Oooooooooooooh,” both women cooed as they made eyes with each other and then Aberdeen. “You’re gonna knock all of us dead, Aberdeen. You always look so stylish around the SBA.”

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head nervously. “You guys are all way too glam for me.”

“Can I get a hot dog pleeeeease?” William’s loud, playful voice interrupted as he skated towards the entrance of the bench where all the girls were. He shot the girls one of his signature smiles before one of the equipment guys laughed and shook his head as he called behind him for another hot dog. He was handed one promptly, handing it to William who proceeded to stuff half of it into his mouth in one go.

Aberdeen shook her head. Now he was just being obnoxious.

***

“William’s jaw is going to hit the floor, Aberdeen,” Kasha mused as she took some last minute pictures of Aberdeen in her full look. She’d been hyping Aberdeen up for the last ten minutes as she snapped pictures of her in their apartment – pictures that would no doubt be on Instagram later that evening, pending some light editing and filter choice – even though she should have left for Evan’s place five minutes ago, choosing to spend the night with him so she didn’t have to spend it alone.

“Shut up.”

“The floooooooor!”

Okay, maybe Kasha was right. Aberdeen looked good, and she knew she looked good. She had on her new green chiffon dress, perfect for the occasion: ruched top, draped across her shoulders; triangle mesh cut-out on the bodice; pleated chiffon skirt dropping down to the floor. Nude strappy hells. Matching nude clutch. The evil eye ring Willy got her was the only piece of jewelry she wore. She gotten her hair professionally done at a salon: smooth and silky old Hollywood style waves with a centre part, held back by a fashionable and trendy velvet headband pinned in place so absolutely nothing would budge. Even her makeup was flawless: dewy skin, a neutral eye with lashes and liner, and Charlotte Tilbury’s ‘Walk of Shame’ on her lips. She was a vision. She was owning every inch of her look.

Too bad she had to work tonight.

“Okay, I think my Uber is here,” Aberdeen said as she saw the notification on her phone screen.

“One more! One more!” Kasha yelled before Aberdeen posed one last time and Kasha took a burst of photos. “Okay, have a great night. Knock Willy dead—”

“—This isn’t about Will—”

“—Knock Willy dead, be fun, and stay safe,” Kasha ended. “You’re going to rock it, Aberdeen. And don’t forget to network!”

The Uber dropped her off about six cars down from the entrance to the Royal York Hotel – it was already busy with a bunch of arrivals, but she knew Brendan wouldn’t be there for at least another ten or fifteen minutes. Once she checked her coat in, she looked around, and Peter’s face was the first one she saw.

“Oh…oh my God, Aberdeen. You look so chic,” Peter smiled, looking over her outfit.

“Oh, thanks Peter,” she smiled back. “You look quite dapper yourself. We clean up pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“I’d say,” he quipped. “Gotta make sure all these new suits fit before I go to the All-Star Game.”

Peter had been talking about the All-Star Game since at least Christmas. It was the event he looked forward to the most all season, even more than this, because of all the people he was able to meet and network with. This year, it was being hosted in St. Louis, and he, Brendan, and Kyle were going down together. She’d have at least eight days off during that time period. She was basically counting down the days. “Well, wear this one. You look good.”

“You want some champagne before our bosses get here?” he asked, already flagging down one of the waitresses. He took two flutes off the tray and handed one to Aberdeen. “To the dream job,” he said, raising the glass slightly.

Aberdeen smirked. “To the dream job.”

They both drank the champagne all in one go. Aberdeen loved champagne, and of course this was the good champagne – so she almost immediately wanted another. When another waiter came by, they placed their empty glasses on his tray. Peter left to go to the washroom quickly before Kyle got there. Aberdeen was left alone.

That’s when she saw William.

He was in a suit, of course – a black, three-piece corduroy suit with a white shirt and black skinny tie – and his hair was tied back in a half ponytail like a European soccer player. He’d trimmed his beard since that morning at the outdoor practice for a much more polished look – still stubbly and a bit scruffy (just how she liked him…fuck) but presentable and respectable. Appropriate for a gala full of rich people. He looked great. The suit fit him perfectly. His hair was shiny as hell – probably shinier than hers. He stood confidently.

And then he saw her.

His jaw dropped. Literally dropped. And when he finally realized it had dropped he brought his hand up to cover it, barely, his smile from ear to ear peeking through the weak attempt. She hated to admit it, but she loved having that effect on him – she loved having that visible effect on him, one that made his jaw drop uncontrollably. She mentally prepared herself as he began to walk over to her. She knew she had to keep it cool. If he made her weak at the knees barely five minutes into her attendance at the event, she’d be a goner.

“Hey Will,” she smiled, a twinkle in her eye that dared him to give her another up-down.

“Aberdeen…I…” he paused, unable to find the words. He even shook his head. “You…I…wow!” he giggled out. She really left him unable to form a cohesive sentence. But she waited it out, not saying anything until he said something. She wanted to make him suffer, if only a little bit. “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he finally said, four cohesive words in a row that made sense.

“Thanks, Will.”

“I mean…you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen on any day, but this…” he said, licking his lips. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to control myself all night.”

Aberdeen tried finding any hint of lie in what he was saying, but she couldn’t. He was too bashful and it was all coming out so sincerely – he really didn’t have the words. “I think it helps we’re seated at different tables.”

“Just means the desire will grow until the end of the night,” he said. “So long as I get to look at you all night, I’ll consider myself a lucky guy.”

She was blushing at this point, and it wasn’t because of him blatant flirting – he was used to that. She was blushing more about the fact that he meant every word, that every word was so sincere in his tone, that she could see how much she was really affecting him. “You flatter me too much, Will.”

“You deserve it, minskatt. You’re stunning. The most beautiful girl in the room. But how do I look?”

With nobody around, nobody to hear and nobody to record a witty remark, she smiled slightly. “You’re the most handsome man in the room.”

Before she could say anything else, Peter came back. And when Peter came back, William played it cool, and made some small talk before walking off, but as he walked off, he shot Aberdeen a look that followed her around the room. Wherever he was standing, whoever he was talking to – William was always staring at her, giving her that look, and it sent shivers down her spine as she tried to keep up a conversation with Peter.

Brendan and Catherine finally arrived, along with Kyle and Shannon, and Peter and Aberdeen got to work. Standing discreetly behind them at all times, they whispered the names of all the attendees who approached them throughout the party, starting in the foyer and moving into the Canadian room – the massive ballroom where everything would be taking place. And there were a lot of guests. With over 1000 people in attendance, Aberdeen and Peter needed to know…well, probably around three hundred of them. She’d been studying for weeks.

“That’s Brian J. Porter, the President and CEO of Scotiabank.”

“Wendy Freeman, the president of CTV News.”

“That’s Gary Doncaster, of the law firm Doncaster, Perlman, and Dobbes.”

Brendan played it cool the entire time. After Kyle and Peter had separated from them for a bit, they rejoined each other. From practically across the room, she saw William sipping on a glass of water, watching her intently. He set it down at what she presumed to be his table. She tried to focus on the job at hand.

“Peter?” she heard Kyle say suddenly, in a nervous voice. Someone and his wife were waving at him and Brendan, slowly making their way towards them, and Kyle clearly needed to know who they were.

“Oh! Um…oh my God,” Peter began, panicking. “I just – I can’t remember what his name is. I—I just saw his name this morning on the list.”

Aberdeen began panicking too now. She tried to urge Peter to figure it out, but he couldn’t get it. “It’s…oh, I know this! It’s something to do with…wait, he was…he was part of the…oh God! I know this. Um…”

The man and his wife were dangerously close. Aberdeen swooped in behind Kyle. “That’s Malcolm Mercer, the Chair of the Government and Public Affairs Committee of the Law Society of Ontario, and that’s the woman he left his wife for, Rebecca.”

Aberdeen even surprised herself with that. She watched as Kyle politely greeted Rebecca first before shaking hands with Malcolm, starting some small talk with them. She looked over at Peter, who was already looking at her. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I got you,” she nodded.

***

Brendan, Catherine, and Aberdeen were seated with Ron MacLean from Hockey Night in Canada, and an array of other guests who had paid top dollar to sit with the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of whom was just a solidly rude aging man on his own personal power trip. Thankfully, he wasn’t seated next to her, or Brendan for that matter, but she could still hear him: the stiff comments, the complaints. Clearly, he only cared about sitting at this specific table. Aberdeen would have to make sure that if he attended next year, he was nowhere near Brendan.

There was a traditional Indigenous land acknowledgement at the beginning – the rude man rolled his eyes, which made Aberdeen want to kill him right then and there – followed by a speech made by Brendan – the rude man was on his phone for half of it, not bothering to listen to Brendan’s words of inspiration and gratitude to everyone who donated for the cause. When Brendan got back to the table, Christine Simpson came out, ushering in the grade three class onto the stage, the students all dressed up and walking in a straight line. They waved at their parents who were at their own tables, jumping and jiggling excitedly as little kids did. Aberdeen thought it was the cutest thing. Christine interviewed some of the students, asking them about school, hockey, meeting the Leafs, and about the integrated classroom and nutrition program at their school – key parts of the MLSE Launchpad initiative. The crowd was as enamoured with them as Aberdeen was. A part of her wished it could just be the kids talking all night.

When their interview was over, the kids waved goodbye to the crowd before the DJ began to play them off stage. The opening notes of ‘Uptown Funk’ by Bruno Mars began playing, and the kids went crazy. They stopped walking off stage. They looked around to try to find where the music was coming from, but soon enough, a lot of the kids began to dance – shimmying from side to side, pumping their hands in the air, and twirling on one foot attempting pirouettes. Christine was trying her best, but they weren’t moving.

“Can someone get the kids off the stage so we can get a move on?” the rude man commented loudly, so loud Aberdeen could hear him above the music. She was incensed by his comment, her blood boiling. How dare he. How dare he say something when this entire event was for charity – was for these kids on stage!

So she took matters into her own hands.

She made a point to push her chair back as dramatically as possible, shaking the place settings on the table with the force of her hands. Everybody at the table looked at her as she rose from her seat and began making her way towards the stage. As she pulled the skirt of her dress up so she wouldn’t trip up the stairs, she made eye contact with one of the kids. And instead of shuffling him towards the back, instead of helping Christine, who had hall but given up, she extended her arms and grabbed the little boy’s hands in hers and began dancing with him. She was dancing on stage in front of over a thousand people with an eight year old. And she wasn’t embarrassed one bit.

As she danced, she watched as William began to make his way up to the stage from the opposite end, rushing up exactly like she had and extending his arms to begin dancing with another student, a girl, twirling her around. Then she saw Bee McTavish, Morgan Rielly, and Jennifer and Jason Spezza, all at once, rush towards the stage too, laughing and dancing with the kids. Before she knew it, the entire team was up there, as were their significant others, dancing with the kids and each other to Uptown Funk for the entire duration of the song. Aryne and John, Saylor and Kasperi – they were all there. As she danced, she made eye contact with William, who was already looking at her, a smile spread out on his face from ear to ear. Jennifer gave her a double thumbs up. Bee was laughing at Morgan’s horrible dancing, but the kid he was dancing with was absolutely loving it and mimicking every move.

She barely noticed the crowd cheering and clapping along to the beat until the end of the song when there was a round of applause. The kids finally got their cue and began heading offstage. A few of them had to finish bowing before the audience, but once they were all gone, the team left the stage too, giant smiles on all their faces. When Aberdeen returned to the table, she saw the rude man staring at her indignantly. Meanwhile, Brendan was beaming.

“Thank you for that,” he said as she took her seat beside him. Even Catherine was smiling.

“You’re not mad I did that?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “That’s been the highlight of the night so far. It’ll probably stay the highlight of the night.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I had to do something to get that guy at the other end to shut up,” she whispered.

“Oh, I know, believe me.”

The night went on with its regularly scheduled events. There was an interview portion with the big four European players – Andreas, Freddie, Will, and Kappy – in between the dinner courses. There was a Q&A with Jason and Zach as well, and the highlight of the night, which was a game of Family Feud with the Leafs Legends – Darcy Tucker, Curtis Joseph, Daryl Sittler, Wendel Clark, and Doug Gilmour – and some of the current Leafs – John, Morgan, Auston, Mitch, and Tyson. It was hilarious. Aberdeen teared up at one point because she was laughing so hard.

After dinner there was a lot of mingling – a lot of meeting new people and speaking about her position because everybody was just so interested about what Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant did all day – and a lot of…well, staring. William caught her eye around the room. Wherever he was, wherever she was, whoever he was speaking to, whoever she was speaking to, whenever she even so much as just glanced his way, he was already looking, and whenever he so much as glanced her way, she was already looking. He was true to his word in that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, that as long as he got to stare at her all night he’d consider himself a lucky man, because all he seemed to be doing was staring at her. And as the night progressed, he got closer and closer, eventually ending up in her circle, and although the guests were delighted to see William Nylander, she was nervous but excited to see Will, Willy, the guy that so obviously couldn’t keep himself away from her.

When the guests left, they were left alone. Aberdeen gulped. William looked pained. “I can’t take it anymore,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear, despite there being no-one around them. Brendan was on the other side of the room.

“Can’t take what?”

“You. In that dress,” he clarified. “You have no idea how good you look. Every time I look at you, I just…you—you know how I feel about you, minskatt.”

When that nickname escaped her lips, tied together with the look on his face and the sparkle in his eye, Aberdeen almost melted right then and there. “Will—”

“Can we get out of here?”

“No, Will,” she giggled. Any other moment in time she would have scolded him for making the suggestion, but at this point she didn’t care. “I’m technically still working.”

“Then let me get you a drink,” he offered. “And let me take you home. Please let me take you home after everything is done. I’m desperate here.”

“Desperate?” she decided to play with him. “Why?”

“Because of you. Because you walk in here looking like that and you expect me to control myself? All I’ve wanted to do all night is be next to you. All I’ve wanted to do is be with you, be anywhere near you. And it’s torture. Torture that I can’t talk to you the way I want to talk to you. Torture that I can’t touch you like I want to touch you.”

A shiver ran up her spine. “You’re getting into inappropriate territory again, Will.”

“And I’ll say it again: can’t you tell by now that I don’t care that it’s inappropriate?”

The last time he’d said that to her, she replied with “And can’t you see that I do care?” But she didn’t care anymore. She honestly didn’t. After what happened on Christmas (besides the fact that she was still wearing the ring – she hadn’t taken it off since) and on New Year’s, she knew that they had both ventured on to the inappropriate territory equally. It was no longer just his fault, or the fault of his persistence. They were equally to blame here. She downed the last of her drink. “I like it.”

He had a confused look on his face. “You like what?”

“I like that you’re being inappropriate.”

Aberdeen couldn’t describe the smile that took over his face upon him hearing those words. They were six words that told him everything he needed to know. “Aberdeen, you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to react normally,” he said, throwing her own words that she’d said to him so many times back at her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to react normally.”

“Aberdeen! William!”

They looked to their side to see Bee McTavish approaching them. Aberdeen could tell William hated the interruption, but because it was Bee, he softened. “We’re gonna do some shots. Want some shots?”

The first shot was tequila. The second was a B-52, and Brendan even joined in. Aberdeen could feel herself getting more giggly with each millilitre of alcohol that went into her system. Giggly about the event. Giggly that she was taking shots with the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Giggly about William.

***

“Just one stop at Nelson Street, please,” William said to the Uber driver as he slipped into the car after Aberdeen. Brendan, Catherine, Kyle, and Shannon had left the party early, so they weren’t able to see William confirming with Aberdeen that he could take her home, and they weren’t able to see him calling an Uber, and him grabbing their coats, and him leading Aberdeen to the much quieter side of the Fairmont Royal York for the Uber to pick them up so he could touch her waist and hold her hand and get close to her – closer than what was necessary – on a cold winter’s night while the rest of the guest list waited at the front of the hotel for cabs and Ubers. “I know it’s a short ride, but I’ll give you a big tip.”

He was holding Aberdeen’s hand.

“Do you still have all those songs I downloaded for you?” Aberdeen asked as the driver started moving.

William thought it to be a random question. “Of course I do. Why would I delete them?”

“I have a new song you need to add,” she said.

He smiled. “I added a song I heard on the radio that made me think of you,” he began to pull out his phone.

“Which one?”

He searched for the playlist in his Spotify, the former ‘Driving in Toronto at Night’ playlist he’d renamed to ‘Minskatt’. He scrolled down to the bottom of the list before he found it. He turned the volume on his phone all the way up before the opening notes of ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles began playing. He’d heard it all over the radio since December, and not only did the beat and rhythm reminds him of the type of music Aberdeen liked and put on the playlist, but when he actually listened to the lyrics, he knew he had to add it.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped and a smile overtook her face. “This is it.”

“What’s it?”

“This was the song I was just going to add.”

William smiled. “Does that mean I have superior music taste now?” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled. “You’re working on it.”

She began to sing, and William had never heard anything sweeter. She was louder than when she half-mumbled, half-sang ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift in the passenger’s seat of his car when they were driving on the Gardiner into the downtown core. Perhaps the shots had gotten to her, but they were so long ago and he was unconvinced. More than anything, he just hoped her walls had finally crumbled, that she felt like she could be uninhibited in front of him like he always wanted her to be. No degree of formality of being a hockey player and a personal assistant for that hockey player’s boss – instead, being just two kids in their early 20s falling for each other like they had six months ago when she wouldn’t shut up about her graduation or her writing or her favourite books and he couldn’t stop listening to her.

William didn’t know the lyrics off by heart like she did, but he was able to contribute certain lines he remembered. Certain lines that would hammer a message home.

I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

He looked at her when he sang them out loud, and she looked at him when she sang them out too, albeit more emphatically and with more swaying and dramatic hand motions. It was like they were admitting to each other what they were really thinking; what they couldn’t say to each other in the presence of other people, but what they could say to each other alone in hotel rooms in the middle of the night or in the backs of Ubers after parties.

Honey I’d walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do

Aberdeen bit her lip after they sang the chorus to each other. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She couldn’t believe how quickly her walls had fallen. She’d spent two months trying to forget him and four months trying to keep him at bay, only for the last three weeks to make all of that obsolete. “Willy?” she asked, her voice sweet as the second verse began to play.

“Minskatt?” he prepared himself.

“I can’t believe you added Harry Styles on your own free will.”

William snorted. This was why he was so enamoured with her. “I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t.”

They arrived at her building, getting out of the car and slipping through the front doors, nodding politely at the concierge before walking to the elevator. As they waited for it to come down, Aberdeen lay her head on William’s shoulder. “My feet are fucking killing me,” she whispered.

“Are they?”

“They’re, like, pounding,” she said. “They’re pretty to look at but fuck they hurt.”

Before she could realize what was happening, William had scooped her up in his arms, shifting to carry her bridal style as the elevator pinged to signal its arrival. “What are you doing?” she laughed out.

“Being a knight in shining armour, clearly,” he smiled. He felt Aberdeen wrap her arm around the back of his shoulders as he stepped into the elevator. Aberdeen pressed her phone number. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Why do you girls even wear shoes like that if they hurt so much?”

She snorted. “You tell me. Men wore heels first,” she informed him.

“We did?!”

She nodded. “Apparently you guys wanted to show off your wealth and calves more than we did at first.”

William laughed in his signature way. “I do have some nice calves.”

When the elevator brought them up to Aberdeen’s floor, she rummaged through her clutch to find her keys, sticking them in the door to open in. Luckily, they could be as loud as they wanted since Kasha was spending the night at Evan’s; it prompted Aberdeen to hook her finger into the strap at the heel and throw off her shoes. William kicked off his shoes and walked through her apartment, carrying her to her bedroom. It was maybe a bold move, to go straight there, but he didn’t care.

“Wanna see me rip my eyelashes off?” she giggled as he finally set her down on the floor of her bedroom.

“Your eyelashes?!”

“The fake ones,” she mumbled, just going for it. She saw a horrified look on William’s face, causing her to burst out into a fit of giggles. She threw the first one in the garbage before taking off the second, William still watching with a horrified look on his face. “What?” she smiled.

“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked.

“You get used to it,” she shrugged. “You know what they say Will. Beauty is pain.”

“My beauty doesn’t require pain.”

Aberdeen burst out laughing, William following with his signature giggle. She couldn’t control her laughing as she leaned her head against his chest, shaking it slightly before bringing it back up to look at him. “You’re literally the worst, Will. No other guy on the team would say something like that.”

“No other guy on the team is as beautiful as I am.”

His tone made it come out like a joke, but Aberdeen couldn’t help but thinking he was right. There wasn’t another guy on the team as good-looking as he was. She huffed out a laugh, turning around so her back was towards him. “Can you unzip me?”

It was a suggestive request, and she knew it. He unzipped her dress slowly as she pulled her hair out of the way for him. They were both still giggling as she felt the material of the dress become looser, and she was careful when he was finished to step out of it gently so she didn’t mess up the fabric or dirty it on the floor of her bedroom. She immediately brought it towards the hanger she’d left on her dresser, making sure to hang it in her closet neatly before turning back towards Will. It was only then that she realized she was in her underwear in front of him, the most exposed she’d ever been since…well…

She watched as he practically ripped off his tie; watched as he unbuttoned his shirt without a care in the world. His suit was probably custom made and tailored and cost over a thousand dollars but he didn’t even care. What was more alarming was that he was stripping and making himself comfortable in her bedroom. “Will—”

“You can change. I’ll look away,” he said, turning her back towards her automatically.

That wasn’t even what she wanted, but damnit, he was good. She unclasped her bra and threw on her top quickly before stepping into her pajama shorts. “Um, I have to go wash my makeup off,” she whispered.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she stepped across the hallway into her bathroom. As she washed all of her makeup off, the seriousness of the situation crept up on her. William was in her apartment. He was in her bedroom. He was undressing. She knew he’d been in there before, that if he stayed over it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d slept in her bed, but it was still a big deal. It was still something that, really, truly, shouldn’t be happening in every sense of the word. But it was. And neither of them was going to put a stop to it.

When she stepped back into her room, closing her door behind her, she saw William waiting for her to get into bed. He had nothing on besides his boxer-briefs. She knew that if they both got in there, there’d be no room. They’d be squished against each other. She knew this because it had happened before – the night they hooked up, and then the night after what Ethan did to her – it was the same situation. Standing now, in her room, looking between the bed and William, things felt…different.

She climbed into bed, liking to be on the side closest to the wall, anyway. William followed her, even going so far as to start to pull the covers over their bodies as he snuggled in next to her. “Will—”

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed. “Aberdeen, stop freaking out.”

“But Willy—”

“I just want to lie down. We’re just lying down,” he said, his voice sleepy. He pulled her against him. She let him. He nestled his head onto her chest, under her chin and above her breasts. She let him. She could feel the contented sigh he let out as he settled into her, as her body relaxed into his, as she began running her fingers through his beautiful blonde hair. He let her.

“Will?” her voice was soft.

“Mhm?”

“You – I – you—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“You could have any girl in the city, Willy,” she blurted out. She immediately regretted it. “Any girl in the city. W…Why do you keep – I mean, why are you here with m—”

“Because I only like you, Aberdeen,” his voice was so soft, sleepy, tender. The most tender she’d ever heard it. “You still don’t understand?”

Aberdeen hesitated. “I guess not.”

“Well…I like you,” he stressed his sentiment again.

“But why?”

“Because you make me nervous. And nobody makes me nervous,” he said softly. “And because I like talking to you. And I don’t like talking to anyone.”

There was nothing more she could say; nothing more she could do. He always answered her question and always answered her honestly; he had never lied to her. He had laid it all out for her and she could either take it or leave it.

Of course she was going to take it.

***

Aberdeen woke up slowly the next morning early. Stupidly early, because of her natural alarm clock. In typical fashion, because William was in bed with her and there wasn’t enough room for the both of them, Aberdeen found herself semi-on top of him, her head on his chest and hair spread out everywhere; an arm draped across his torso. As she began to come to her senses, she took a deep breath and could smell him. He still smelled so good. So manly. And then, she realized his one arm was hugging her body against his, and his other lay directly on top of hers that was draped across his body, keeping it there.

She sighed contently.

He was so big, so snuggly, so warm. Of all the people she’d snuggled up against in her short lifetime, William was easily the best. His body was like her own personal heater, and in the dead of winter, it was much appreciated. She’d always known he was big – big and thick and strong – but feeling him under her now was so much different. She’d almost forgotten what he felt like, but she could never truly forget something like that.

When she moved slightly, mostly to stretch, she realized one of his thighs was between her legs. God, they were so fucking thick. Thick and strong, just like the rest of him. She moaned slightly, the feeling of their bare legs together really waking her up now. Before she knew what she was doing, before her brain could tell her body not to physically react to such a specimen of a body being in such close proximity to her, she moved again, rubbing her core against his thigh. It felt good. Of course it felt good. She had been denying herself the pleasure she knew William Nylander could give her for six months now (besides their kisses), and if she wasn’t dangerously close to breaking every known rule, parameter, and boundary she gave herself when she got the job, then she was now. So close. Dangerously close.

She rubbed her core against his thigh again.

And again.

He began to wake up, shifting slightly at the feeling of the friction of her against him. He moaned at the feeling and rubbed his eyes before opening them, and when he did their eyes met, drowsy and barely open but still looking at one another. “Minskatt?”

Aberdeen looked into his blue eyes. She couldn’t hold back anymore; couldn’t deny it anymore.

She was going to do it.

She pushed herself up slightly, coming face to face with him, and began kissing him. No hesitation. No uncertainty. She knew she wanted to do it. That she had to do it. That kissing William was as important to her right now as breathing. That kissing William continuously – not just one little peck, not just a standard kiss – was what she needed. That feeling the scruff on his face along her fingers was integral to her well-being. That grinding against his thigh again, causing him to moan in her mouth before she got on top of him and straddled him, was what she needed to survive.

She felt his hands squeezing her thighs, trying to feel every inch of exposed skin on her body as they wandered underneath her pajama shorts, then underneath her shirt, where he took sweet time inching higher and higher towards her breasts. He squeezed them in his hands gently, massaging them and pinching her nipples, causing her to squirm. She knew she didn’t have an ample set to worth with, but William didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem to mind because when Aberdeen grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, he looked at her exposed chest like it was the first pair of boobs he’d seen in his life.

Aberdeen hesitated only slightly after she saw the look on his face. “Willy?” she breathed out.

“Fuck, Aberdeen,” he whispered in some sort of apparently disbelief – a disbelief that this was actually happening. That she was the one to kiss him. That she was the one to take off her top. It wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her exposed chest, but it still felt like the first time to him.

Before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her with his big, thick body as he kissed and licked his way down her neck and towards her breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue and making her arch her back. She tried to catch her breath as she got used to feeling his mouth and tongue on her breasts. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly what to do to set her off, leaving her a writhing, moaning mess in her own bed.

Then she felt where his hand was.

She flinched at his touch on her hot core, but so desperately wanted more. After that initial flinch, she practically grinded herself onto his hand. “It’s so hot,” William mumbled before he kissed a trail to her other breast. “So wet already.”

“Will—” Aberdeen could barely get out once she felt William’s tongue on her other breast. “Will, please—”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head as he teased her some more. “Ta—Take them off.”

He did as he was told, his mouth leaving her breast so he could sit back slightly on his knees, hook his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and pull them off slooooowly, revealing every inch of exposed skin on her body. He could see her chest rising and falling dramatically as he let the shorts drop on the floor. “You okay, minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She leaned forward so she could kiss him again, their hands exploring each other’s bodies – William’s hands gripping her thighs or breasts or teasing her hot core some more; Aberdeen’s hands gliding along the muscles on his abs and chest and shoulders before scratching down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

She tugged on them.

“Aberdeen—”

“Condoms are in the same place,” she whispered quickly.

“Aberdeen, are you sure—”

“Yes. Yes yes yes,” she repeated, nodding fervently.

William opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing at a packet. He ripped off the packaging and helped her push his boxers down before sitting back. Aberdeen helped him slide it on, much like the first time. When she lay back down, William moved to loom over her.

William and Aberdeen looked each other in the eye as he guided himself near her entrance. When Aberdeen could feel him, she let out a shaky, excited breath. “Willy…”

“Yes, minskatt?”

“Go slow.”

William nodded. He began to push himself into her, and as he did, he saw her eyes close to bask in the feeling of him filling her up. He did the same, as it brought back all the memories from that fateful night six months ago, when they were in the exact same position as they were now. He remembered everything so vividly, but somehow, this all felt brand new. He remembered how good it felt, but simultaneously had never felt anything as amazing before.

He went slow.

He could feel her nails dig into his shoulder blades and a small gasp of breath escape her as he bottomed out. He kissed her lips and the tip of her nose and back to her lips. “You okay?” he asked, his hair falling in between their faces.

Aberdeen nodded her head. She bought one hand between them and pushed his hair back tenderly so she could see his face. “Yeah,” she nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, letting out another breath as she felt him pull out slightly before pushing back in. “I’d almost forgotten how good you feel inside me.”

“You’re perfect, Aberdeen,” he responded immediately after. He meant it in every sense of the word, because to him, she was. Plus, if she thought he felt good, he has some news for her about what she felt like. “God, you’re fucking perfect.”

He dipped down to kiss her again as he began moving in and out of her slowly. Aberdeen moved her hips in tune with his, and soon, all she felt was pleasure. Despite what was happening, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, looks mixed with lust, love, desire, adoration, longing, and of course, the pining they’d been doing since that day they reunited in the elevator being exchanged between them. It had all led to this moment, this moment of pure, built up passion.

“Willy…f…fuck,” she whispered. “You feel so good, Willy.”

She watched as some of his hair feel in between them again, blocking his eyes. She brought a hand to push it back tenderly. They looked at each other for a moment before William said the words. “I love you, Aberdeen.”

She looked for a lie in his eyes. Any hint of a lie. A lie she found in Zane’s eyes. A lie she found in Corey’s eyes. A lie she found in any other boy’s eyes that she’d known. But she couldn’t find it. Not even the smallest hint. Nothing. And because of that, and because of the moment, she said the words too. “I love you, William.”

He kissed her, big and wet and sloppy and full of desire and want, and she kissed him back with equal amounts of desire and want, and when he began to move in and out of her quicker, and when she arched her back into his body, she knew was close, that they were both close, and that they wouldn’t last much longer.

“Willy—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen I—”

“Cum with me Willy. Cum with me.”

And they did. It hit them all at once, the wave of pleasure as Aberdeen’s walls tightened around William’s pulsating cock, and they rode it out for as long as they could before William collapsed on top of her, the both of them catching their breath and coming back down to reality. As they lay in her bed together, with William still inside her, the gravity of the situation didn’t need to hit them – they knew what they’d just done. They knew it broke every boundary and was against every rule in the book. But they didn’t care. William didn’t care. Aberdeen didn’t care. All that mattered was that they shared that moment of pure bliss together.

William rolled onto his back and took off the condom, tying it before throwing it in the garbage near her bed. When he finished, he turned towards Aberdeen and they intertwined their limbs and bodies, drifting off to sleep again in each other’s arms.

***

The next time Aberdeen woke up, it was because she’d heard the front door slam shut and the sound of footsteps throughout the apartment. It meant Kasha was home, which also meant it was later in the morning than when she and William had first woken up and…well…

She shuddered.

As she did, she felt William’s body beside hers in her bed, spooning her from behind. Still naked from their rendezvous earlier, she could feel his cock against her as the hand of the arm that draped over her body cupped one of her breasts. His face was nestled into the crook of her neck. She didn’t want to move – she would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with him all day – but she knew they’d have to get up eventually. And more than that, they’d have to put on clothes before they went out there.

“Willy?” she whispered softly, hoping he’d hear.

“Hmmm minskatt?” he mumbled against her skin. “Was that Kasha?” he asked.

“Yeah. And probably Evan,” she said. “We should get up.”

He peeled himself away from her body slowly, and she rolled from her side to her back so she could look up at him. He looked down at her, still naked for him. She smiled up at him and caressed his cheek, his stubble scratching her skin. A piece of hair fell in front of his face, and she pushed it back, making it a habit now. “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Do you regret what happened?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. No,” he replied automatically, shaking his head. “Do you?”

“No,” she responded automatically as well. “I don’t regret any of it at all,” she ran her thumb along his lips. “But nobody can know. We can’t tell a soul.”

William nodded his head. In any other circumstance, if he had landed a girl as amazing as Aberdeen, he would be practically bragging to everybody about how lucky he was. But things didn’t work out that way, and everything was complicated. “Nobody will know,” he said in agreement.

“No Brendan,” she began.

“That’s a given.”

“No Kappy,” she continued.

“No Kappy,” he agreed. Kasperi didn’t even know about the first time they’d slept together, so it would be no problem. None of the guys did. They all thought he just had a harmless crush. “No Kasha.”

Aberdeen bit her lip. “No Kasha,” she nodded her head. She knew she’d be able to make up a good story when they met each other outside her door. She knew what she had to do next. It would have to hurt them both. “No Alex.”

William nodded slightly. It would be hard not to tell his brother, but he knew he couldn’t. It was probably one of the few secrets he would keep from Alex. He knew he had to say the same. “No Siena.”

Aberdeen nodded. It would be the hardest thing she’d have to do. “Our secret only,” she whispered.

“Our secret only,” he repeated, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. “We can do it, minskatt.”

“I know we can,” she said, kissing him again. It went against everything she believed in, but she didn’t care anymore. She only had so much willpower to reject him. Now that they’d done what they’d done, and agreed to what they agreed to, there was no going back. She’d have to lie to the people she loved and respected most in her life. She’d have to lie to everyone she knew – her parents, her sister, her friends, her co-workers.

She’d have to lie to Brendan.

They got out of bed slowly, with William putting his boxers back on and Aberdeen throwing on her pajama shorts again and a crew neck sweater. She looked over at William and saw him searching for his dress shirt, crinkled on the floor. She threw one of her oversized University of Toronto hoodies at him. He laughed when he realized what it was, pulling it over his head. It fit a bit snug, but it worked.

The second Aberdeen opened her bedroom door, she heard the shower from Kasha’s ensuite turn on. She was happy – it gave her time to get breakfast started, to spend a little bit more of alone time with William, and to think of an excuse as to why William slept over last night. Not like this was the first time he slept over in the past four weeks.

She still couldn’t believe what this had become.

After washing her face quickly, she and William made their way into the kitchen, Aberdeen grabbing some pancake mix out of the cupboard. She grabbed some blueberries from the fridge too, putting them near the sink to wash them. As she began to pour the pancake mix into a bowl, she felt William come up behind her, pressing himself against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Aberdeen?” his voice was soft, and suddenly sounded very nervous.

“Willy?”

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said.

She was confused. “About not telling anybody?”

“No. Earlier,” he gave her another hint. When she didn’t respond, he knew he’d have to say it again. “That I love you, minskatt.”

Oh. That. It was said so passionately during them having sex that it felt like it was part of the experience. That it was completely natural and easy for them to say to each other, despite not officially being together, despite not even dating, despite Aberdeen trying to convince herself for months that she didn’t like him, despite William trying everything to make her realize otherwise.

“I know it was in the heat of the moment,” his words interrupted her thoughts. They sounded so nervous and apprehensive. “But I meant it. I mean…I know. And I know that you said it back, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Or if you’re not sure or whatever. I just want you to know that. I won’t care. You can say it whenever you want. I just know that I do.”

Aberdeen turned around. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, now wearing one of her hoodies, and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him. She said the only words she could say to him. The only words that, despite every boundary, despite every rule, despite every thought, despite everything she knew about herself, despite everything she thought she knew about herself, she knew were true.

“I love you too, William.”

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thessalian · 2 years ago

Text

Thess vs the BBC

This is going to need to be two rants - one personal, one more ... indicative of the increasingly fascist-leaning hellscape in which I live. Sorry to fans of Doctor Who and a whole bunch of other terrific programming; today we’re flagging up the issues with the BBC.

The British Broadcasting Corporation actually reached its 100th anniversary last year. Well, at least as a private entity. It became a public organisation of the sort it is today in 1927. And ... y’know, they’ve been censoring shit for nearly as long. Back in the day, they wouldn’t refer to Prohibition at all, and pretty much pretended no one existed but the UK. Which ... y’know, still the Empire at that time, eye-rolling but about right for the time period. Thing is, they also shu down discussion of items of local and national politlcal controversy, because the government got upset. So I guess this current situation is old news.

This is ridiculous on so many levels for a country that seems to love its monarchy, however many bags of dicks its monarchy is and how functionally useless said monarchy is in the day to day. See, the internet has been my enabler in one fairly big thing, and that is when I want to figure out how something works or why it is the way it is, I poke at its foundations. Something I’ve been doing since being a kid and taking apart every piece of electronics in the house out of sheer curiosity ... or, like, my own brainspace with the help of coping mechanisms I learned in therapy. For everything else, I have Wikipedia and other stuff all over the internet. Why I’m bothering to go into that right now is because I was desperate to find out what the BBC’s official creed was. Because it’s not going to be written down as “We will do whatever the government says like good little mouthpieces” ... right? Right, actually. I’ve had a look at the BBC Charter as provided by the royals (which mostly waves people at Ofcom, the Office of Communications) and the accompanying document that clearly states that the editors of programmes are entitled to make decisions without influence from the owner.

Thing is ... ownership of the BBC is a bit tricky at the minute. Thatcher privatised a lot of it in her day, and the license fee freeze awhile back had to have also hurt. Hell, the BBC’s space on the politlcal spectrum’s been in question for a very long time. Usually it’s been left-leaning individuals thinking that the BBC is full of right-wing types and leans very right in its reportage, while Tories from Thatcher on down insisisted that the BBC was very culturally left-wing and that the establishment was “fighting against it”. Which ... is honestly kind of good, if you think about it. If the left thinks it’s right-leaning, and the right thinks it’s left-leaning, that suggests some kind of impartiality or at least lack of favouritism.

Well. Here we are in 2023 and even that nod to impartiality has gone out the fucking window.

First there’s the transphobia thing. Because, seriously - it keeps apologising to Rowling any time it isn’t purely complimentary or supportive of her TERF bullshit, and then there was the “We’re being pressured into sex by some trans women” article, which was literally, “lesbians feel obliged and pressured into having sex with trans women” with a skew towards “trans women aren’t women so lesbians shouldn’t feel obliged to have sex with them”. That one did at least get looked at by the complaints department, but despite the whole “your sample size is too small and thus your data is inconclusive” nature of the poll this shit was based on, it still exists at the moment. So ... yeah, sorry, BBC’s perfectly happy to keep this transphobic bullshit going.

This was over a year ago, when focus was a bit more Covid-directed, and it wasn’t specifically focused on acts of censorship and direct pandering to the current party in government. Now, though ... now we have serious pandering bullshit. So let’s talk for a little bit about Gary Lineker. I mean, there’s not that much to talk about - he used to play football (for the North Americans, just assume that I mean ‘soccer’ whenever I say ‘football’; it saves time), he has also been the face of our biggest-name potato chip brand, and has been presenting a football programme - Match of the Day. (I can’t think of an American version exactly but the best comparison I have is Hockey Night in Canada.)

Thing is, he also has a Twitter account. And opinions about the UK government’s unlawful (by ECRH standards and UN standards) treatment of asylum-seekers arriving in small boats. Apply the second to the first, and you have the BBC apparently cancelling him. Like, literally said, “Okay, you’re critical about the government’s policies, you can’t present a football programme until you’re back in lockstep”. To which Lineker and his co-presenters and a lot of potential incumbents said, “Okay, then we won’t present”. So currently the BBC will be having Match of the Day with out commentators. So if you happen to see a lot of jokes about Boris Johnson or Jacob Rees-Mogg sitting on an obvious set for a TV programme ... that’s why; the jokes have been huge about getting only the rightest of right-wing pundits to present the show because apparently that’s what the BBC wants right now.

And no, that’s not even really joking, given the post I made yesterday about the BBC refusing to air a David Attenborough nature documentary series because of the potential for “right-wing backlash”. Apparently we don’t want anyone worrying about climate change because that’s not in the interests of the right wing at present. Sooooooo ... yeah, that’s a thing.

Honestly, never been so unhappy to have paid my TV licence in my life. I don’t even really need one; I don’t watch anything on the BBC, or live television at all. I only pay the fucking thing just in case I one day might want to watch live TV and because the constant hounding letters from the TV licence people give me anxiety. Which is probably the plan at the end of the day, which pisses me off. See, that’s where the BBC gets all its money - from our licence fees. And of course, the government sets the value of the TV licence. So you see where the government has the BBC by the short and curlies, and you kind of have to wonder, have the Tories already applied pressure, or is the BBC just rolling over pre-emptively? Either way, most of the ‘independent’ (or rather, non-government-funded) news organisations are owned by Rupert Murdoch, who’s also excessively right wing. So suffice to say that a whole lot of our news is skewed that way for one reason or another. Living here is getting a little terrifying.

#Thess vs the Tories

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years ago

Note

hello mel i Love You

HELLO DIL I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE!!!

You had me SCREAMING! Criminal genius/Detective Annabeth is my new hyper fixation, I fucking swear T_T

My brain went OVERBOARD with this! It’s super long! Please enjoy!!

(I’ve withheld this story due to the current political climate and I still feel sorta a way. But if reading about the p*lice triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I wholeheartedly understand if you want to skip this one. Also... the story has some... a little bit of heat in it. Not much, it’s SFW. But it’s there <.<)

And: law enforcement, medical and science side of the pjo fandom, I doubt that this will make any sense :D

Also thanks again Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!!

The Golden Age (WC: 9,5k)

“Absolutely not,” Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.

“We need his statement, Chase,” said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. “It’s his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he’s operating from prison again or someone’s copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!”

“Even so, we’re busy with the robberies in Chelsea.” Annabeth didn’t want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.

“Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don’t have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That’s an order,” Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.

“Don’t you think we haven’t tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars,” Beckendorf explained.

Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.

“When will I speak with him?” she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.

“In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files,” Dougenis said.

Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.

He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn’t hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.

“You’ll be fine in there?” asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.

Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth’s eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.

“Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You’ve managed roughly a third so far.” Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.

“Annabeth, you know me,” Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. “Call me Percy,” he winked.

Her neck felt hot. “It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.

“Okay, Detective Chase.” How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?

“The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that.” And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:

Make Perseus Jackson sing.

“I need information.” Annabeth’s mouth was pressed to a thin line.

“Straight to the point, Detective, huh?” The attractive man leaned forward. “And what information do I supposedly have?”

“Your family never stopped your business,” Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.

“Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you’re behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone.” She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.

“Oh?” Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.

“I’m pretty sure that I don’t have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you’ve been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective,” he then smiled.

Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.

ii.

Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn’t make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.

He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people’s lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:

Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.

Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.

Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.

All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn’t do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.

Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy’s being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.

“And?” Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.

“Poseidon is willing to speak to you,” her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.

“Okay.”

“Only you. Not anyone else. I’ll drive you.” Annabeth nodded.

The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl’s lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.

Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn’t have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.

Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. “Ah!” he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.

“Detective Chase!” Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.

“What can I do for you?” he asked friendly.

“More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?” Annabeth smiled.

Poseidon laughed. “Which one? I have many.”

Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.

Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.

“The youngest,” Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.

“Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?” Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.

“Sorry, confidential,” Annabeth deflected and pouted.

“Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-” Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. “My son isn’t here.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call.”

She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. “Of course, I will Miss Chase.” Another friendly smile.

The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.

“Thank you, Drew!” he said before pressing a number into the small device.

“Yes?” asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.

“Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?” The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.

“What?” Now he was wide awake.

“I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud,” complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.

“I will take care of it.”

“Yes, you will.”

The line was dead.

And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn’t drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.

“See you tomorrow!” said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.

“See you!” Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.

“Great.” Her steps got faster.

Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn’t realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.

“What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?” His friend nodded.

“Have you eaten something?” The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind something to snack on,” she confessed.

Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” asked Grover and looked to the door.

“Whiskey. Double.” A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.

Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.

Perseus looked… good. Good didn’t even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father’s. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.

“A little bird told me you were looking for me,” he winked.

Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren’t her lungs functioning normally?

Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?

“Your father,” she commented.

The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.

“Do you mind?” the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?

“I usually don’t smoke,” he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?

“And you do now because…?” The interest was honest.

“I only smoke when I’m having a good drink-” He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. “And am sitting next to a beautiful woman,” Perseus winked.

Annabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.

“So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth.” The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.

“It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy. Kinky. I like it,” he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.

Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. “Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right.”

“Grover, shut up!” she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.

“Now I’m interested.” He tapped some of the ashes off.

“You really want to know the details of her love life?” Grover asked.

“Oh, I definitely bite,” Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.

“Could we come to the more pressing matters?” the woman groaned.

“Sure,” Jackson shrugged.

He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.

“I need information.” Chase cutting the chase.

Percy smiled. “Everything comes at a price.”

The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.

As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.

What’s worse? Being wrong or being crazy?

iii.

“I’m pretty sure you got the wrong person,” Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. “I know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got the right person,” Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.

“You’re the key. You were the blueprint and now someone’s running off with your legacy. And you’re more than okay with that?!”

“Mmhh,” Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn’t lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth’s eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.

“Are you fucking serious, Jackson?” she spat.

The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. “It stinks in here,” he sighed.

Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.

“No,” she whispered.

His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.

iv.

“Is this really necessary?” Annabeth questioned Beckendorf’s decision behind his back.

A visit to an art gallery. Perseus Jackson decided to become visible to the public eye all of a sudden and started to work as an art collector and conservator. He had meetings with clients, he had visitors in his studio and seemed to actually use his degree for something. Whether it was for the good or not was a matter of perspective. The criminal went to the gym daily; he even bought his own fucking groceries. Observing him had been nerve wrecking. Especially since probably he knew that he was being watched and therefore enjoyed every second of Annabeth’s annoyance. The detective felt like a true voyeur. He hadn’t done anything suspicious unless being a little piece of shit counted. Jackson didn’t separate his waste for an instance. Prick.

When Luke told her that Jackson had planned the opening of a gallery and proposed that they should go, the blonde almost laughed. A public event where no invitation was needed. A ballsy move. It seemed like Jackson really gave no fucks. Unfortunately, Beckendorf caught wind of it and now she was forced to go.

“I’m afraid so,” Luke said as he rubbed his temples. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with Annabeth. She was an opponent that just maimed you with arguments.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” her colleague asked. “You wanted to find Jackson the entire time. You’ve worked for years on this and now you’re basically backpedaling. This is so not you.”

For better or for worse, Annabeth didn’t talk about Luke with her meeting with Jackson at The Grove. Something told her that she should hold onto the information.

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling I guess,” she confessed. Annabeth didn’t know what would happen once Jackson was aware of her presence. And he would definitely see her.

“You’re not alone.” Luke patted her shoulder. “Grace, Beauregard and hell even that di Angelo informant guy said they would be present. Jackson must have pulled a big gig if even the Italians are interested in his shitty joint. Nothing will happen to you.”

I’m not so sure about that, Annabeth thought, but the only thing she did was nod.

A month had passed, and the day of the gallery opening was finally there. Annabeth stood in front of the building where soft string music could be heard from the outside and guests flooded in. Annabeth saw how undercover cop Jason Grace entered. He quickly glanced in her direction but turned around. Annabeth understood; he was a valuable asset who could not let his cover get blown over.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curves tightly and the high heels that she chose made the detective regret every life decision that led up to that exact moment. Her soles would be burning the next day and it wasn’t like in the movies. An attempt to run in those things would be a one-way ticket to the ER. The wire in the dress didn’t make the discomfort any better.

“Chase, everything's fine?” asked Beckendorf in her ear. Of course, she had been bugged.

“Yes, everything is good. I’m moving,” she said.

Annabeth mingled with the crowd and entered. The blonde actually stood in awe and registered all the modern pieces. Pop art, minimal art, abstract expressionism, all sorts of different post-modern works that fought for space but harmonized wonderfully together in the rooms. How the fuck was that criminal scum be able to display works from Andy Warhol, Helen Frankenthaler or Jackson Pollock?

They had to be either stolen, bought for a large sum, rented, which was not the style of the Greek syndicate or, something that was Jackson’s supposed specialty, be forged. A waiter offered her champagne which she politely declined. As much as Annabeth would love to cloud her mind, she could not afford it on that evening. She had to look out for Jackson. The blonde made her first round at a slow speed.

“Can you see him yet?”

“No, not yet. Oh, there he is! With Chiara Benvenuti!” A known mafia bride. Chiara was surrounded by her bodyguards like always as she pointed towards a picture.

“Good,” Beckendorf breathed into her ear. “Perhaps we can finally raid this place.”

The painting was an abstract piece with lots of red elements. Blood that was spilled on the dance floor. Something fitting for a coldhearted villain.

“Of course, painting it was a task, but I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Annabeth heard Jackson say. The way Benvenuti laughed made her rage. Jackson joining her, didn’t make it any better. The fact that Benvenuti stared at his tanned chest as he had left some of the buttons of his shirt open, pissed the detective even more off.

Jackson’s sea green eyes shifted to the right and caught her staring at him. A pleased expression rested on his face and the smile could almost be considered to be honest. Embarrassed, Annabeth turned around and immediately left the corner. Fuck that mission. Fuck everything. Fuck that man in particular and the uneasy feeling that rested inside her heart. She saw Luke mingling with two people in black suits, they looked like they would fit the description of some of the Golden Age’s lackeys. Luke was irritated but there was no time for explanation. Annabeth needed alcohol, she needed it badly.

“Chase, what’s going on dammit?” hissed Beckendorf as he heard her frantic steps. She was glad he was unable to see her in that pathetic state.

“Nothing,” Annabeth lied. “Don’t want to blow cover.”

Fortunately, another waitress was making her rounds and Annabeth grabbed a glass which she nearly inhaled. She was wandering through the gallery and tried to figure out her next steps. Too little, too late.

“You left me waiting. Good evening, Detective.”

Annabeth almost let the glass fall as she heard his deep voice behind her and felt his large hand around her waist. A scent of musk and fresh sea breeze crawled into her nose. The grip wasn’t extremely tight, but it was clear that Perseus Jackson had no intention of letting her go.

“Fuck!” hissed Beckendorf into her ear. It was too early to storm the place. They had nothing in their hands against Jackson.

“You have quite the collection,” Annabeth complimented him.

“Thank you, love.” She punished him with a sour look that made his grin only widen.

“Interested in buying?”

“If it’s real perhaps.”

“Oh, my dear Annabeth, everything is real.” The warmth of his hand spread throughout her entire body. Her glass was empty, and he gave it to one of the lackeys.

“Mister Olympianidikis,” the boy nodded and ran off with it immediately. Oh, the power of someone in the higher hierarchical position of a crime syndicate.

Jackson accompanied her through the gallery and showed her his favorite pieces.

Annabeth could picture Beckendorf walking up and down in the small van, nearly losing his shit at the man babbling about oil colors or frameworks that he or other painters used. Jackson was hindering them on purpose. Something was going on.

“There’s something I want to show you. Follow me.” He took her hand and walked to a hidden niche. Jason Grace who stood in the corner and spoke to a woman eyed them with suspicion.

A white door was there with the words Emergency Exit engraved on it. A cold and naked hallway was in front of them. Lights were off and the moon was the only orb that illuminated the place. They were alone.

“And what are you supposed to show-” Jackson cut her off. With a brutal kiss.

A spark that set the entire place in flames. Annabeth did the one thing she was not supposed to: not use her intelligence. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. Their lips fought a battle against their lungs, and they dived into each other again and again. Taste. That was all they thought.

Percy pulled away from Annabeth. She was beautiful. Her citric smell was divine. The delicate updo was no more. The lipstick was smeared. Her lips trembled and there was something else written in her eyes. Lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. A wild look was on his face. He kissed her again. He held her close to his body and pressed her against the wall.

Annabeth felt how one of his hands slid underneath the dress. Did Annabeth exchange the boy shorts for a thong in the last minute? Yes, she did. Did she regret that decision? No, she did not. But his hands had a different goal in mind. The yanking made her shriek into his mouth. A solid welcome for his tongue. The wire underneath her dress was no more. Only then did he place his tight grip on her ass.

Oh, two can play this game Annabeth thought and grabbed the wire that stuck out of his collar.

“Guess that no one’s listening in on us anymore,” Percy commentated.

“It seems like it,” Annabeth agreed. A calm before the storm. A storm that broke loose as they kissed each other again. Percy’s lips wandered.

“Who told you to waltz in this place with this fucking dress?” He claimed her neck with kisses. His beard tickled her. “You look perfect!”

Annabeth wished she could retaliate the compliment. Percy looked fairly handsome in the beige suit, but her brain was short circuiting and only focused on not moaning too loudly and enjoying the feeling of being pressed against him. The probability of her colleagues rushing in that compromising situation was way too high.

Percy broke the kiss off for good. He made a move towards the staircase. A foot was set to the lower step. “Come with me!” His hands reached out for her.

Annabeth was panting. Heart or sanity who would win? Annabeth made one decision that would seal her fate forever. She took his hand and the unlikely pair fled out of the building.

As soon as they opened the backdoor, Annabeth heard a frantic scream for her name. There was no turning back now. A black car was waiting for them in the hidden alley. It looked like Castellan didn’t do his homework properly and had received the wrong plans of the building to study.

Percy held the door open for her and she slipped into the limousine. Percy followed. “Leo!” he barked. The vehicle moved with screeching tires and drove through a garage which led to a tunnel that Annabeth had never seen. She stopped paying attention to it as Percy claimed her lips yet again.

The car ride was a blurry memory. They entered another garage which was when the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” announced the chauffeur.

Percy nodded to the front and then exited the car. He reached out for Annabeth and helped her out of the car. “Where are we?” she asked as they entered an elevator.

Percy pressed a key card against the board. “My home.”

There was no time left for sightseeing. They immediately entered the bedroom. His jacket was tossed aside, her dress slid to the floor. Both of them fell to the bed. Both of them never wanted to leave the bed.

Annabeth woke up to the wonderful smell of coffee. Her eyes fluttered and the memories hit her. The wonderful night she had shared with a wanted criminal. Her naked body was wrapped in satin sheets. The blonde sat up. Her pale body was sore and ached but in the best way. She didn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone; work had been way too busy. She didn’t want to remember. What Perseus Jackson did to her would be fairly impossible to top.

Said Perseus Jackson entered the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and two mugs. Oh yes, he did enjoy his daily workouts. “Morning,” he smiled.

“Morning,” she replied and thanked him for the cup. A delicious aroma took over the room. Annabeth took a sip.

“Mmhh,” she delightfully sighed. Two pumps of hazelnut and heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

“Yes, I did do my homework,” he laughed and drank his tea. “You aren’t the only people that study others. Was seeing me work out at least fun?”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Annabeth blushed. He laughed.

The cop finished her cup and Percy put it on a nightstand. “And what do you want to do now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s coming to my mind.” His light eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. Annabeth pushed the blanket aside, revealing her perfect self.

“That insatiable?” she laughed but didn’t receive an answer as she felt his lips on hers again. Her hand went on to grasp his black curls.

“Very,” he said as his hands roamed over her very naked body.

Putting the blue dress on again felt wrong. Percy wouldn’t have minded for Annabeth to stay the entire day at his apartment, but he knew she had a point when she said that her colleagues would searchthe entire city for her. Turning brick by brick if they must.

“I honestly can’t come up with a good excuse for my boss. You didn’t think this through.” Annabeth wandered through the modern apartment. It was bathed in light and had window fronts that showed her the entirety of Manhattan and the green of the Central Park. A dream apartment. The Golden Age had money, no doubt in that.

“Well… I actually have an idea,” Percy started. Annabeth turned to him with one cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like I won’t like it,” she predicted.

He opened a cabinet and showed her the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well as you’ve said. I didn’t think it through,” he shrugged with a goofy grin. It made him look adorable. Stop Annabeth. No time for that. Percy grabbed a cloth as well.

“Let’s just say that I never had the honor of being treated that way,” Annabeth muttered. But she agreed with him. It would make the lies that were about to come out of her mouth easier.

Percy kissed Annabeth one last time and brushed a lock out of her beautiful face. “Sweet dreams, Annabeth,” he wished her.

Then he pressed the drenched cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she was embraced by darkness. Annabeth slumped down but Percy caught her.

Four hours later, Luke Castellan and Jason Grace made their way to Annabeth’s apartment, looking for possible clues. Both of them were fucking pissed. At Jackson, at Annabeth, at the entire fucking operation. The police force was frantically looking for her. They got Paris Olympianidikis for kidnapping at least. If they would catch him.

Luke had a key to Annabeth’s apartment because they were close friends. Annabeth had actually defied orders, nearly ruined a mission and drove him to the hospital as his wife gave birth three years ago. He had to find her. Not to make it even, but to know that his friend was safe.

“Look for anything useful,” Luke commanded. Jason nodded.

Luke entered the living room and Jason worked through the bathroom which was followed by the bedroom. He nearly slipped to the floor.

And there she was, sleeping like a princess.

“Annabeth?! Annabeth! Luke, she’s here!”

The next thing Annabeth remembered was waking up in the hospital. She knew that everyone was pissed at her. But Castellan had defended her for the stupid act of following a criminal to nowhere. Jason had seen where they left, and Annabeth thought the Sergeant could hear important information. Who would have guessed that the wiring would be cut off?

Examinations. DNA samples were taken to get a hold of Jackson. Questions. So many questions. A knock. Yet another person that wanted to annoy her. “Yes?” Annabeth sighed.

“Annabeth,” Beckendorf entered the hospital room. Annabeth felt patronized but of course her hands were tied. She refused to speak with her boss about a certain criminal. She covered up the truth and enjoyed living her life in lies. The young detective had no family who anyone could call. That made Beckendorf extremely worried about her.

The tall man took a seat next to her bed. “I’m not here to tear you apart, pretty sure Captain Dougenis had the pleasure.” Yes, he had. “I want to hear from you what happened.”

The blonde retold her vision of events. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was a trap. I can’t remember how I ended up in my apartment.” Annabeth spoke a little truth in her web of lies.

“The way our connection cut off as soon as you left the exhibition… I thought it was static. Then you were gone.” Oh no, he heard us making out Annabeth thought. She tried to suppress the panic that was bubbling up in her and was glad that Percy had discarded the wires. The technicians at the police department would have immediately figured out that there had been no static. She remembered almost everything. The staircases. The car. The apartment. The way he felt between her legs. The way she straddled him. The way he grabbed her throat. The pleasures and the cries.

Beckendorf looked deeply into her eyes. He knew that she had something to hide but was wise enough not to ask. The old man was one of the few people that blindly trusted her instincts in the department.

“Okay,” was all that he said. “I’m trusting your judgement.” She nodded. He was a kind soul.

“Take the next week off. You need the rest.” Beckendorf stood up.

Percy saw how her delicate fingers grabbed the folder and closed it. The shiny object fell into his vision.

“I like your ring.” His sea green eyes shot up to her face. He saw a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered and played with the small white band.

“Someone very important gave it to me a long time ago. Someone dear to my heart.”

He blinked twice. She blinked twice.

A devilish smirk rested on his face.

vi.

Their affair lasted an entire year. The fact that it came to an end was saddening. But it was predictable. Star-crossed lovers from two entirely different universes that weren’t meant to be. Otherwise the balance of both of their worlds would crash, burn, and fall.

Annabeth had insight into the police work and Percy had insight into the Golden Age. That was the sole reason they barely saw each other in a work related context. They actually managed to live a fairly happy life outside of the working hours. They went on secret dates, they visited museums after they had been closed and reopened only for the powerful son of Poseidon, they watched movies together, they even flew out to visit his Hawaiian mother Sally who adored Annabeth. And the sex was amazing. A welcoming bonus. Both felt happiness for the very first time. Both felt love for the very first time.

The secret studio in his art gallery was one of the few places where they could be free.

“And here’s the Mona Lisa,” Percy grabbed the painting out of the box. He showed Annabeth some of his latest pieces that were part of his collection or creations. Real paintings and forged ones.

“Wow, that looks so real. An incredible copy.” Annabeth had visited France in her college days.

“The thing that’s hanging in the Louvre?” he winked.

“Tell me you’re joking.” The corners of his lips pointing up was all she got.

Annabeth laid next to him a week later. They were inside of her shitty apartment. Percy had surprised her because of course he could cook as well. To the question “Is there something you can’t do?” Percy only answered, “Change a tire and board planes because I hate heights.”

He might have been joking, he might have been serious. Annabeth did not care. She had returned from yet another demanding shift. This time her task force had hunted down one of Zeus’ kids. Aristidis also known as Ares. Despite being in his late 40s he was an annoying little piece of shit. The fat fuck tried to sell child slaves on the dark web and barely managed to escape them.

As Annabeth had entered her apartment, she was greeted by the delicious smell of parmesan that melted over fresh pasta. Seeing houseman Percy cook was not only a picture for the gods but something she could get used to. Annabeth placed her bag on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to greet Percy with a kiss. A passionate kiss.

“Aren’t-” kiss. “You-” kiss. “Hungry?” he asked between their kisses.

“Well, I think we can eat later.”

“Grover is right, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to food,” he joked. The Grove was another spot for them together. Once the customers left, the three would sit together and joke. Mostly at Annabeth’s expense.

Annabeth pouted and then kissed him again. The only thing that broke her silence was her stomach grumbling.

Percy broke off from her with a roaring laughter. “Eat first. Then we can come to the more fun activities.”

Annabeth pouted but Percy unfortunately had a point.

Now she was fighting against falling asleep as she laid on his chest and he played with her hair. He inhaled her smell. Raindrops were racing on the window as gravity pulled them down. The shower on the outside calmed them. “There’s a good reason why you never found me. Why no one found me,” Percy started.

Her tiredness was gone. Curiosity won. “The fact that my father uses me as his master forger is abundantly clear, right?”

Annabeth nodded. They didn’t talk much about his business ventures in the Golden Age, but she had pieced large chunks of the puzzle together.

“I want to leave my family,” he confessed.

“What?” That came as a surprise to Annabeth. Percy seemed fairly content with his life in the family business. He joked about it and enjoyed the high standards of life that came with the fruits. Then again, Annabeth had seen the dark shadows that followed the Golden Age everywhere they went. Blood, bodies, chaos, destruction.

“A rule that my father engraved into my brain was to be invisible. Live like there’s no tomorrow, but don’t forget to clean the remains of yesterday. The day me and my cousin Ethan were caught shoplifting seventeen years ago changed me. It changed us all. We were so naive, and felt so invincible. For normal parents that would have been a tirade and grounding. Our parents think differently. For Ethan, whose idea it was to begin with, it cost him his eye.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. The cruelty of parents. The fact that the Golden Age had no problem with hunting their own down was still sickening to her.

“It didn’t matter. Four months in and he had been shot by the Russians, the Bratva. Nearly started an entire fucking war,” he sighed.

“Percy, that’s horrible.” Annabeth tried to see if there was any emotion left in his eyes. There was none. His eyes were dull from the wars he had seen. Percy was blind and used to the cruelty of the survival of the fittest.

“Annabeth, I’ve witnessed my first murder as a thirteen-year-old. At least I haven’t pulled the trigger myself yet. Not in a deadly way.” He stared at the white ceiling.

Her heart broke for the boy that lost his honest smile. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” Percy hugged her tightly. “I want to be free. Die as a free man. Live in the sunlight and not in the shadows. Not in fear of getting gunned down by a crazy family member. My father spoke with my uncles. They gave me an impossible task. Once I solve it, I’m a free man.”

“Who are you? John Wick?” she joked. She wasn’t in the mood for cracking stupid jokes, but she had to uplift the situation or else the mental image of Percy losing his innocence as a child would forever haunt her.

“That guy is amazing; I’m not going to lie.” Percy managed to crack a crooked smile.

“And the task?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded a smoke. “It stinks in here, the three of them had said. ”He turned to Annabeth. “There’s a rat.”

A rat? she thought. “Someone that betrays my family. They mix up our business and create chaos from within as if they want us to implode. I have to find and either obtain or eliminate them.”

Someone that betrayed the Golden Age? Whoever they were, they were crazy and suicidal.

“And what do you want to do once you’re free?”

“Move to Hawaii. Be reunited with my mother again. Find a woman,” he looked at her and grinned. “Marry her, pop out a kid or three. Be an artist.”

Silence. Annabeth was speechless. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that and being a part of that,” she whispered.

Percy only kissed her.

Another month later. The fact that Percy disappeared around her birthday upset her, but that was life. He had been in Los Angeles for a gig. Which gig exactly she did not ask. Was it a legal gig? Highly debatable. It had something to do with the rat. That was all that he told her.

A small package got sent to her and she was curious to see what it was. No sender. Carefully she opened it. A small ring box was in there. Tiffany’s & Co.

A card was attached to the box. Happy Birthday, Princess – P.

“Oh no…” Annabeth opened the little box. The ring had a small silver band that was covered in small diamonds. Her jaw dropped. The ring was beautiful. And it was meant to be for her?

Annabeth put it on. It sat perfectly on her ring finger. Annabeth looked at the box again. It had a code on it. The detective grabbed her phone and searched for the ring.

“WHAT THE-”

Perseus had spent fifteen thousand dollars for that little piece of jewelry.

“No…” she cried. How could he have spent so much money on her?

Annabeth ran into her bathroom and shoved a loose tile aside. She used that little space to hide something. That something was the burner phone that Percy had given her so that they could always stay in contact. Annabeth called him.

“And?” he asked.

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” she yelled.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Why? Don’t you like the ring?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I love it. We have to talk about the price.” Her left hand already played with the beautiful ring.

“Why? Do you want a more expensive one? Let me know which one, I’ll buy it,” he stated.

“What?! No! You’ve spent way too much on that ring! I can’t accept this!”

Percy laughed. “You can and you will. It is my gift for you. Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

Annabeth wanted to scream. Denying his gift felt so wrong, but it was the right choice she made.

“Once you’re here we’re going to have a talk. We have to return this!”

Annabeth could practically hear how he shook his head. “You’re going to like the ring and you’re going to keep it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Annabeth accepted her fate and waited until the days of solitude would be over. Until she was reunited with her Percy again.

The year had passed. Then it happened. The day Paris Olympianidikis would fall.

vii.

“Cooperate with me, Jackson,” Annabeth sounded soft. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“Cooperate and we can make a deal. Better conditions in prison, a reduced sentence perhaps and-”

“I want out,” he boldly stated.

Annabeth stared at him blankly. “Pardon me?”

“You said cooperate and we can make a deal. That’s my end of the line.” Jackson leaned back into his chair again.

Annabeth was speechless. He had beaten her with her own game. She closed her eyes for a second before focusing on him again. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked as he loved to hear that answer. Then she remembered what he had said.

“You said it stinks in here?” she repeated. Annabeth eyed him suspiciously.

“Yes, Detective,” he truthfully answered.

“What does it smell like?”

“Colors, Detective.”

“Why?”

“You should be able to see it for yourself.” He scratched his temples.

viii.

They got him. They didn’t get him with drugs or anything else that would give him a long sentence. But they got him with one of his forges. The good old Al Capone method. If you don’t get him with the big guns, try to stick to the petty crimes. Criminals get sloppy. Especially criminals that do way too much in too many places. The meeting was over, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Annabeth.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Hell, Annabeth. You’ve spent more than three years on this case.” asked Travis Stoll.

“It’s just…unbelievable. The fact that everything comes to an end. Goal completed and all,” she smiled sadly.

Annabeth dreaded her seeing Percy again. He was waiting in her apartment and probably preparing food for them. The sight of her apartment complex made her heart sink. Where once was joy, ruled depression.

“Annabeth, what happened?” Percy ran to the door as he saw her in her desolate state. The door closed and she told him what would happen in the next sixteen hours.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Percy just held her and hugged her tightly as the tears blinded her. He fought his own tears that threatened to rise. Their future, destroyed.

“It was bound to end like this,” he said. Sadness rested in his voice. But also, tranquility.

“No.” Annabeth shook her head and buried her face into his strong chest.

“Whatever happens. I’ll be fine. Most of the prisons and the judges are smeared.” He kissed her head.

“Of course, they are,” she laughed darkly. Knowing that he wouldn’t be subjected to fights in prison didn’t do much to calm her down. She’d rather have him next to her.

“Annabeth. I want you to arrest me.”

“No. Never.” She violently shook her head again and slapped his shoulder.

“I mean I’m already used to your cuffs, now’s the chance to make it official,” he grinned.

“Percy! Now is not the time to joke about our sex life.” They shared a laugh anyway.

“I have another wish. Move on, Annabeth. Live life to the fullest,” he whispered.

“Everything but that.” She refused to move on. How could she?

“Find an idiot, marry him, have kids and live happily with him. Do that for me. Please,” he continued.

“I want you to be that idiot,” she pressed and looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll wait for you.”

He kissed her. Don’t do this Annabeth. Don’t give me hope he thought.

The unlikely couple hugged each other tightly as they went to bed. One last time. It didn’t come to Annabeth as a surprise to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His side. His side was no more, it was only her side.

Perseus spent the night and morning hours in the art gallery. He had one final piece to finish. He drank and smoked and cursed. The bottle of cheap whiskey nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to catch it.

The oil painting was a self-portrait. An anchor to the last few moments of his life as a free man that hid in the shadows.

The task force broke into his gallery. He had a cigarette in his mouth and put the paintbrush down as his lover approached him. He had a sarcastic smile on his lips which vanished as he registered the pain in her eyes.

“Perseus Jackson, you are under arrest,” spoke Annabeth with a commanding tone.

She put him into cuffs and read him his rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court... A glance at the painting he had been working on ever since he left the apartment.

Annabeth knew immediately that it was them. Percy in the painting hugged her but their faces had been cut off. She saw the birthmarks on her back and the accuracy of how he portrayed his hands on her hip. Percy’s final act of love to her for all of them to see. Unfortunately, all of them were blind to it. All of them but Annabeth.

The moment she was at home she ran to the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Gush after gush came out of her. Her mouth felt sour and dry, the teeth hurt and had an ugly yellow color, the tears that blinded her ran towards her nose. “What have I done?” she cried and looked at her pathetic self in the bathroom mirror.

Judgement day came eight painful months later. The judge slammed the hammer and sealed his fate.

Twelve years. Twelve years was the sentence. Perseus lost his coolness for one second. Annabeth’s heart broke in two. Poseidon who sat on the other side of the room looked like he wanted to shoot the judge right then and here and Annabeth would have gladly joined him.

They were robbed of twelve years together. Percy was put into handcuffs. His sea green eyes searched through the ranks until they found her gray ones. He blinked twice. I love you. She blinked twice. I love you too. The police officers around her almost cheered.

They complimented her for the worst decision of her life. An act that had destroyed her life. Her lover was gone. And a free rat was still out there.

The trail of memories stopped. Annabeth knew that Luke was restless behind the one-way-mirror. The talk had stretched into eternity and gave little information to the hidden detective, but so much to Annabeth. Percy had been right. He was roaming freely in prison. He was able to talk with his family day in and day out. And most importantly. He knew of operations. And he knew of his own operations the best.

Finally. There was movement in the gallery. Whoever was decided to continue the work of Percy Jackson was stupid enough to revisit the place where it all began. The rat would be caught in a trap.

“NYPD PUT YOUR - no.” Annabeth had the gun pointed at him. But she couldn’t believe it. The rat. The rat that had cost her four years of their life.

“I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he sadly smiled. Then he pointed his gun at her.

A shot.

Annabeth had closed her eyes. The bullet didn’t hit her. It had hit him as Luke Castellan had fired a warning shot into the abdomen. The detectives moved to him.

“Call an ambulance!” yelled Annabeth to the cops that flooded the place. He laughed on the floor as he bled.

Jason Grace. Secret son of Zacharias Olympianidikis also known as Zeus. He not only wanted to act in revenge as Percy’s brother Sciron had killed his older sister Thalia. He wanted to spite him and take over his businesses as well. The money and the gold. The cars and fame. In his twisted mind he was able to run the syndicate and destroy it at the same time. It was over.

Annabeth saw as the ambulance drove off. Percy scratching his temples as an indication for the glasses and his talk about colors to point to the gallery would be his ticket to freedom. Hopefully.

ix.

It was the first time that Percy had seen the sun as a free man again. He left prison with the clothes he entered. The deal with the district attorney went smoothly although the old man would have rather wrung the half-Greek’s neck.

A black car drove up to the prison. Two people exited the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Sally and Poseidon hugged their free son tightly.

“You are stupid!” cried Sally. “Both of you!”

Father and son winced. That was Sally Jackson for them.

Quitting her job had been freeing. She had made the decision about half a year ago. Annabeth wanted to see something new. Experience something new. She was on the way to the small airport. The day was sunny and warm. A new day to start a new chapter in her life.

Annabeth arrived. “You can stop hiding, we aren’t being followed,” she laughed.

Percy yawned in the backseat. “I was sleeping,” he excused himself.

“Of course, you were.” She rolled her eyes and smiled into his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Her colleagues were upset, especially Luke, but it had to be. She had to quit for her own sanity. Beckendorf would check up on her and then see who she was with and connect the dots. But he would be wise enough not to contact her, not to rat her out. He would be happy about the fact that she had found love.

They would live with Sally and her little family for a while before they would buy their own house. The private jet that Zeus had given them would bring them to Hawaii undetected. A small sorry as the son of Zeus had caused a lot of trouble in the family. At least Jason was still alive.

Annabeth stopped the car and turned to Percy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she grinned. A delicate kiss was shared.

A golden age was truly upon them.

The End

Ummm... I... I think this might be a poppin feature fic? I have still many ideas and many things could be fleshed out...? Help?

BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SUGGESTION DIL OMFG ILY!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #mel's little cookout #percabeth #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #tw: police #tw: violence #mel writes #the golden age

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i-did-not-mean-to · 4 years ago

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Hello Tumblr

The subreddit has directed me here to promote my realfic(s) about actor Richard Armitage on Ao3.

I do not know the etiquette of doing this, but here I am...

Here’s the first chapter of the ludicrous romcom I’m writing right now...

°1° ~Victoria~

Victoria, Vic to her friends and Vicky to her father and Tory to her ex-husband, walked briskly towards the little café at the end of her street, lifting her shoulders to her ears to shield herself as much as possible from the wind that cut into her skin and made her face flush an unflattering shade of windburned red.

She had no idea what Angie and Liza were up to, but apparently, she was to have high tea today, which in itself was not a reason to distrust her friends, but a little voice at the back of her head told her quite clearly that this was not going to end the way she had anticipated, and she was already annoyed before even knowing what they would spring on her.

As her heels clacked on the pavement in an impatient staccato, she yanked her handbag that kept sliding off her shoulder a little harder to wrestle it back in place and slammed it into her face with full force.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She cried out in the middle of the street, rolling her eyes at her own incompetence.

When she pushed open the door though, the warm smell of cinnamon and coffee wafted into her cold, numb face and she relaxed a little, especially as the young girl behind the counter gave her big, beaming smile and took the dark grey coat from her with perfect understated courtesy.

Victoria loved this place, she had loved it from the very first time her former husband had taken her here to introduce her to the owner of the little shop for whom he had a strange fascination (which turned out to be run-of-the-mill horniness, as Angie was a lesbian).

Once, this had been a townhouse much like the one Victoria lived in now, and the old doors were still clearly visible in the bright, open room where polished white tables and dainty chairs with faded blue upholstery invited for a quiet sit-down with a good book and a steaming cup of coffee or tea.

On the old mantlepiece over a disused fireplace, daisies and peonies smiled at her from a slightly kitschy, ornate vase and her favourite spot, right next to the huge windowfront looking out on a neat little courtyard with wrought-iron tables and chairs in impeccable white, was waiting for her.

Angie had worked wonders with the small, crowded rooms, making them appear more spacious without losing the cosy feeling they had once held, and every artfully decorated plate hung on the wall had a special meaning to the dreamy, romantic woman who was the owner and boss of the establishment.

As far as middle-aged women went, Victoria was a good enough catch with her reasonably attractive physique and her actually very pretty face, not to mention her considerable smarts and her undeniable wealth, BUT Victoria was also notoriously stubborn and easily angered.

Most importantly though, at least that was what Angie and her beloved Liza thought, Victoria had taken the ludicrous and completely insane decision never to date another man again after her divorce and they were having none of that nonsense.

Hence why they were about to have high tea with her to gauge how hot her distemper was still burning after months where she had shut herself away in that little house she had taken to spite her family and avoid her ex-husband, refusing to take most calls and only ever coming to the tearoom to read a script.

As a member of a highly successful production-team, Liza had decided to offer Vic a spot as proof-reader of scripts, as her friend seemed particularly good at finding mistakes or inconsistencies. Also, Liza was convinced that Vic needed a few stories in her rather dull life after the childhood and youth she had had.

Vic took her new job as seriously as she did everything else in her life, her existence as a hermit included, and this made Angie’s plan to find her nice man to at least bed increasingly hard.

“She doesn’t want a man.” Liza had rolled her eyes at her, but Angie was convinced that it was not good for a woman to leave home and hide somewhere in London in a tiny townhouse and refuse to meet any kind of new person. It made people bitter, and she definitely didn’t want Vic to become bitter.

“Jesus, Angie, listen, I see bitter old men every day at work.” Liza had laughed, but when her girlfriend’s eyes flashed a feline green, the idea had taken hold in her own head to convince Vic to change her mind after all.

Only, not only did Vic not want to meet any men, no, she had made it very clear that there was a certain type of man that she would never ever exchange a single word with again: wealthy, suave, and handsome men, which was exactly the kind of men Liza had to sell a dime a dozen.

In this very second, she watched Vic settle down in her usual spot, waiting for her friends to arrive, her eyes narrow, suspicious slits as she surveyed her surroundings with hawk-eyed distrust.

~Richard~

He was surprised to see his phone light up and when he saw the name on the screen, his amazement only grew. There was no good reason why Martin would call him up just now as they’d meet a few days hence for one of those terrible meetings where all the rich and beautiful would stand around, bored to tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He picked up his phone, nonetheless, curious what his friend could want from him.

Martin droned on about all kinds of things before making sure that Richard would indeed show up on that fateful evening, he had just been musing about a few minutes earlier.

It was vital that the man would be there for the success of the plan that he had hatched out with a dear friend of his, which consisted of getting two boorish, middle-aged twats to have a roll in the hay.

Maybe that hay would be pure spun gold, but the roll would be the same as it was everywhere else on this planet for all kinds of people. As far as he knew, the woman Liza had pitched had been made a millionaire by her divorce…and an emotional cripple.

After having married her high-school sweetheart, she had been replaced by a woman 10 years her junior as soon as the money and the fame started rolling in. If Liza was to be believed, she had put her heart and soul into that marriage and into the platform she now owned 50% of, which made of this banker’s daughter a good catch…Only, she apparently hated all men with a burning passion now.

Enter stage left, a rather underwhelming specimen of said population: inveterate bachelor, notoriously shy and often awkward and still stunningly handsome artiste extraordinaire Richard Armitage.

Martin had no idea how much he and Liza had drunk that evening to really believe, even for a single moment, that it would be a good idea to pair a hissing, angry, and disillusioned divorcee with a man who had not even been able to convince wide-eyed ingénues of his merit, but for some reason, they had shaken hands on their game plan and he would be damned if he was the one to drop the ball on this one.

“Yes, I will come. Why?”

That makes two of them being suspicious from the get-go, Martin thought, feeling the challenge raise his hackles and light a fire within his chest. This could be great fun if they managed to pull it off.

“Just checking in on you, old horse, don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.” Martin chirped cheerily, rubbing his hands noiselessly as he popped the earbuds in to move around the house while being on the phone like the puttering busybody he was.

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation, he worked too much and socialised too little, he was well aware of that, but God, what did people expect of him? Secretly, he HAD thought about ducking out of this function on the down low, but now, that was virtually impossible as at least one person would indeed be looking out for him to show up.

There was an edge to Martin’s voice that he didn’t like all too much either as it announced some mischief he could not yet fathom, but already, he could feel the shadow of those dark rainclouds falling on him and it made him frown impatiently.

He had no time to be the butt of a joke or the unsuspecting victim of some cruel prank that had been hatched in good faith, he had no doubt whatsoever about that, but he was too old to be made a fool of in public and he hoped that his friend would know that, and respect his boundaries.

Poppycock, the hell he would, Richard thought with a sigh, rubbing his forehead to dispel the headache that was building constantly behind his eyes. He really should be wearing those glasses more consistently, but he tended to forget when he was sitting around at home, lounging comfortably around with a good book and planning a productive, prolific future that would keep him from thinking too much about the things he had missed out on.

“I’ll be there, don’t you worry.” He grumbled, hoping that there would be enough mainstream artists so he could blend into the background and slip out of the crosshairs of those who were after some funny business.

“Then I’ll see you there. I’m sure you’ll look ravishing.” Martin chuckled and earned a disgruntled growl from his friend and colleague which made him laugh silently. Oh, he was smelling that something was up, Richard was too smart to be taken unawares, but he was also adorably easily to get flustered sometimes, and, if he was honest, Martin enjoyed that a great deal.

For a second, he pondered if it would be cheating to pull Ben into the fray, but he knew that he’d need help to steer poor, old Richard into the right direction and there was only so much a single man could do.

#richard armitage #fanfic #writing #longfic #realfic #ao3 #introduction #hello #fanfiction #tom hiddleston #oc #never say never #same username #rpf

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mavmax · 4 years ago

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Grateful, I guess?

When: Thanksgiving 2020

Where: The Maxwell Cottage

Warnings: Racism / Racist Remarks

Featuring: Lexa Maxwell & Isabelle Maxwell ( @isabellemaxwellxx )

Maverick purposely dragged on to get ready. Purposely. Every chain reaction that happened was intentional on his end and it was getting to the point where by the time Lexa had arrived to help, she could feel Maverick’s purposely sluggish intentions coming to light and frankly, it tested her patience--and Izzy’s, so he decided instead of having two sisters wanting to end him on the spot, he’d clean up his act. Just a few hours and Izzy would help him sneak out of the event and he’d be free for the rest of the evening to do whatever the fuck he wants.

The carpool to the cottage almost seemed normal with him and his family...minus Lexa who opted to drive on her own since she had to grab a few things from her place. Maverick knew it was bullshit, she was definitely plotting her escape and since she was the oldest, it wasn’t exactly questioned. Since it was his parents’ turn to host, rather than turning their home upside down--and risk the family finding out about Victoria’s battle, they opted for the cottage in South Redondo. A 40 minute drive, but a 40 minute drive of just casual chit-chat, some laughter, and catching up.

After helping some of the landscapers with decorating the cottage and his dad with the turkey, it was time to put on that Maxwell smile and greet his extended family. He stood tall in his clean cut cable-knit sweater, greeting his rowdy younger cousins, his boisterous uncles, his judgy, snobbish aunts, his sweet grandmother, his Navy grandfather, and of course...Benji--and some statuesque, but clearly ditzy blonde girlfriend. Which would make the night even more interesting when she introduced herself as Tiffany. How...predictable.

Everyone was scattered throughout the cottage. The older women sat in the living room, snacking on hors d'oeuvres, the older men sat on the patio with their cigars and whiskey, the teen cousins played volleyball in the backyard, the younger cousins sat on their iPads, and the young adult cousins, where Mav and his sisters sat, sat on the second floor. There was casual chit chat behind their triumphs. Maverick had a few things to brag about, from how he was in the running to being scouted for the NBA, to his stellar grades and graduating magna cum laude...and that was when Benji chimed in with a,

“I mean, it’s no surprise you’ve got the best grades out of all of us.” Already, that prickled Maverick’s skin. Once again, Benji was cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

“Lexa’s grades still remain the highest out of all us here. She literally graduated as valedictorian from Stanford. I don’t even go to an Ivy League,” Maverick sighed.

“You could’ve though. Let’s be real, Uncle Nate and Aunt Tori definitely adopted a solid genius. Kinda wish my parents had done that...maybe could’ve suckered my sibling into getting my homework done,” His cousin crudely remarked. This was followed by a bunch of “Benji, chill” or “Benji, what the fuck bro?” and clearly, Benji didn’t care about the fact that he was

“Do you have something against me or are you just blatantly racist?” Maverick finally shot out, the warning glances exchanged between him and his sisters before his glare went back to a taken aback Benji.

“Bro, it’s chill. I’m not--” Benji began to say when Maverick interrupted with,

“Wait guys, you smell that in the kitchen?”

There were a few confused murmurs within the cousin group and a few shrugs but finally Benji chimes in with, “What did Aunt Tori cook?” He asked with confusion.

“Beef,” Maverick simply said before simply tilting the cranberry ginger ale over his cousin’s head with. a shit eating grin. Benji who immediately fell over into his girlfriend, spilling wine on what definitely looked like an expensive dress. He stood there, sitting in his humilation for a few moments. There were a few loud oohs that alerted the women in front. While Lexa let out a rather loud cackle....Izzy definitely looked a bit distressed from the situation but he still smiled proudly. Benji was asking for it.

“Bro, you’re just gonna do me like that?” Benji shouted over to Maverick and before Maverick could even get in a punch, Lexa stepped in and smiled her condescending smile, her head cocked to the side.

“Benjamin,” She added as she shoved Tiffany to the side, grabbing Benji by his collar. “I’ve made this clear every year now since Maverick first came home, if you mess with my little brother, you won’t have to worry about just him. Let this be a warning, I have a lot of dirt on your side of the family. Mav will kick your ass, I will kick down your reputation. So, I suggest you clean up your act. When you come to California, remind yourself that your family is Liberal and not red like your daddy’s neck. Understood?” She added with the most intimidating smile. While she threatened this...there was one little detail that Benji didn’t know: the threat was already happening on Lexa’s end and Mav had seen it all.

“Yeah, understood, redneck boyyyy!” Maverick chimed in the background with a shit eating grin. Benji could only look at the two in fear before Maverick made himself go downstairs to “grab himself another drink”, when in reality, this is where Izzy would come in to cover for him and Maverick would disappear for a little bit, at least until dinnertime. On his way down, he had to turn the corner near the study and that was when he had noticed his father on the phone. He was pacing back and forth, looking mildly distressed. He could feel his heart drop to his stomach, hoping it wasn’t news about his mother until he heard.

“Yeah, Ha-Jun...Mav...he grew up to be a fine young man. He’s...a little rowdy, opinionated, but, he’s got a heart of gold,” Mr. Maxwell spoke.

Ha-Jun...his Korean name, his birth name.. It had been so long since he had heard that name that it almost sounded foreign to him. Maverick tried to hide around the corner to where he could hear the conversation but not be caught by his father.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you survived...I’m sorry things had to turn out this way for you and Eun-Joo,” Mav heard his father say with a sigh. It didn’t take long for him to realize who his father was talking to and that, was a slap to the face. His father--his birth father, survived. But what did he survive, was the question.

“Sang-hoon, we have to tell Maverick. I understand this comes with risk, but our family is untouchable and you know this. No harm will come to him or my family and I’ll make sure of it, but he needs to know. This is his past, he deserves that chance,” He heard his father bargain on the phone with his birth father. The one thing he could say, was that this is why Nathaniel Maxwell was his father. While his birth father wanted to cower in fear, Nate Maxwell was fearless...much like his sisters, and his mother.

He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he wiped them away with the back of his sweater. He wasn’t sure how to handle that information yet. Knowing that his birth father was alive but hesitated to even meet him. He didn’t understand what dangers were in or why there was a risk in the first place. All he knew, was that he’d have to face the past head on.

And maybe then...he’d have a better understanding of where he comes from.

#sp

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tabloidtoc · 4 years ago

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Star, October 26

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Reba McEntire dating CSI: Miami star Rex Linn and finding love again at 65

Page 1: Duchess Kate Middleton stopped by England’s University of Derby to discuss students’ mental health and how the pandemic has affected their education but during her visit those watching couldn’t help but notice Kate looked more youthful than ever because of a new shorter highlighted hairstyle

Page 2: Contents -- Demi Lovato and pal Matthew Scott Montgomery were ready to be spooked at Nights of the Jack

Page 3: Vanessa Paradis and her daughter Lily-Rose Depp at the Chanel show during Paris Fashion Week, Tom Cruise looked a little leery filming a difficult scene on the set of Mission: Impossible 7 in Rome, Cara Santana repped boyfriend Shannon Leto’s band 30 Seconds to Mars in a sweatshirt from the group’s apparel line

Page 5: Chrissy Metz is so smitten with her new boyfriend Bradley Collins that she’s already talking marriage and babies with her Nashville-based beau and that has alarms ringing for some of her friends about why they kept their romance totally hidden until now and since Chrissy is all-or-nothing this is way too intense for some, fans of Law & Order: SVU rejoiced when it was announced that a spinoff was in the works that would star Christopher Meloni as Elliot Stabler and the new series called Organized Crime would feature Stabler leading a task force fighting NYC’s crime syndicates but the show has been rocked by behind-the-scenes drama as first showrunner Craig Gore was axed in June and now his replacement Matt Olmstead is also out leaving the future of the show in jeopardy, after a contentious season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Denise Richards and Teddi Mellencamp are out and mainstays Lisa Rinna and Kyle Richards have proven they’re the alphas of the long-running Bravo show and now as producers are scrambling to fill out the cast one obvious contender is out of the running as Kathy Hilton has respectfully declined because her daughters Nicky Hilton Rothschild and Paris Hilton didn’t want her to do it because they felt it was a bad look for them and the family

Page 6: Sofia Richie and Scott Disick have split but she seems to still be taking her beauty cues from her time with the Kardashian-adjacent dad of three because she has noticeably fuller lips where she had lip injections to both lips, Mariah Carey had nothing but nice things to say about Derek Jeter in her new memoir calling their relationship sensual and credits him with helping her see the value of her biracial background but Derek isn’t happy about it and he’s fed up and feels Mariah is taking advantage of him to publicize her book and it doesn’t help that Derek’s friends have been teasing him about the sexy details because he hates being made fun of; his ego can’t handle his friends ribbing him, Star Spots the Stars -- Christina Aguilera, Kaitlyn Bristowe, Travis Scott, Teddi Mellencamp, Rev Run and his wife Justine Simmons, Lindsay Arnold

Page 8: Star Shots -- Anne Heche headed for rehearsal on Dancing with the Stars, Christina Milian and her daughter Violet, Gavin Rossdale at the beach in Malibu with his dog and a mystery woman

Page 9: Liev Schreiber plays basketball with his son Sasha in NYC

Page 10: Bachelor alum Catherine Lowe and her son Samuel, Reese Witherspoon jumping rope, Million Dollar Listing Los Angeles’ Tracy Tutor playing Monopoly at home

Page 12: Johnny Weir leaving Dancing with the Stars rehearsals, Brie Larson and boyfriend Elijah Allan-Blitz on a grocery run, Alessandra Ambrosio on her way to dinner in West Hollywood

Page 13: Selena Gomez shows her kidney transplant scar, Julia Garner filming scenes for Inventing Anna in New York City

Page 14: Chrishell Stause heading into rehearsals for Dancing with the Stars, Johnny Depp waved to fans outside the ZFF Masters during the 16th Zurich Film Festival where he promoted Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGown, Patrick Schwarzenegger stepped out with a script in West Hollywood

Page 15: Silver fox Jon Bon Jovi struck a pose while promoting his new album 2020 in NYC, Shia LaBeouf went for a jog in Pasadena on the same day he was charged with misdemeanor battery and petty theft following an incident that happened in June, Maisie Williams at the Chloe fashion show in Paris

Page 16: Gwen Stefani stepped out of the studio in Woodland Hills, Chiwetel Ejiofor referred to his phone while reciting poetry on the set of the upcoming pandemic-themed dramedy Lockdown in London, Sting and his wife Trudie Styler celebrated his 69th birthday at a meal with friends in Rome

Page 17: Sofia Vergara out in L.A., Denise Richards and husband Aaron Phypers looked carefree leaving a restaurant in L.A., Danny Trejo hung out with an adorable pooch during an appearance on Home & Family

Page 18: Normal or Not? Machine Gun Kelly shared a glimpse of his beauty routine en route to his new cafe in Cleveland -- not normal, Eva Longoria wore a Vote t-shirt and a Biden mask during a political rally in Miami’s Little Havana neighborhood -- normal

Page 19: Snoop Dogg inhaled and exhaled during his DJ Snoopadelic set at the Concerts in Your Car event at the Ventura County Fairgrounds -- normal, while grabbing a meal in Los Angeles with a bevy of beauties Billie Dee Williams enjoyed a quick grooming session too -- not normal

Page 20: Fashion -- stars get glitzy in gold -- Olivia Wilde, Leona Lewis

Page 21: Karen Gillan, Kate Beckinsale

Page 24: Emilio Vitolo Jr. appears to be every inch the doting boyfriend to Katie Holmes but he’s playing the field behind her back -- Emilio’s a ladies’ guy and he’s been texting a bunch of girls saying things between him and Katie aren’t nearly as serious as they seem while Katie thinks she’s in love and it’s no exaggeration to say she’s obsessed with this guy and she’s adamant they’ll elope and in her mind they’re two kindred souls destined to be together

Page 25: Beyonce and Jay-Z are hoping to add on to their already impressive real estate portfolio as they are quietly checking out homes in Montecito in California for their family of five -- although they already own a $26 million home in New York’s tony Hamptons as well as an $88 million Bel-Air mansion the couple are hoping to put down roots in the American Riviera so their children can attend the area’s prestigious schools and Beyonce especially likes that it’s not far from L.A. and it’s clean and super private, after two years of dating Jake Gyllenhaal and Jeanne Cadieu are at odds about their future and Jake’s frustrated because the relationship is going nowhere and he’s eager to start a family but the 24-year-old model isn’t ready to put her career on hold and take that next step leaving Jake in limbo -- his most successful relationships were with women his own age with the same maturity and ambition like Reese Witherspoon and Kirsten Dunst -- while Jake remains conflicted about whether to stick it out with Jeanne or start over with someone new his friends say it’s time to move on and find someone who’s baby mama material, Jon Hamm has been considering settling down since he began dating Anna Osceolo because something about Anna is making him rethink everything from the guy who never pictured himself walking down the aisle or having children but now he and Anna are talking about marriage and a family

Page 26: Cover Story -- Reba McEntire finding love at last -- after a string of broken hearts the country superstar has finally snagged Mr. Right actor Rex Linn

Page 30: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s courtroom showdown -- four years after their split Brad and Angie are still duking it out over custody and now they’re prepared to bring star power to the battle -- Brad will be using every scrap of ammunition he can to fight for his kids including testimony from fellow stars and Angelina is prepared to do the same

Page 32: Five-time rehab vet Scott Disick is caught partying in front of his kids

Page 34: Stars’ Cheating Confessions -- sometimes all you can do is beg for forgiveness; these celebs have all had to plead their case -- Jude Law and Sienna Miller, Kevin Hart and Eniko Parrish

Page 35: Donny and Debbie Osmond, Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith, David Letterman and Regina Lasko, Dean McDermott and Tori Spelling

Page 38: Beauty -- add a sophisticated scent blend to your fragrance wardrobe for fall -- Kim Kardashian

Page 40: Entertainment

Page 48: Parting Shot -- Chris Hemsworth and wife Elsa Pataky partnered with the Global Wildlife Conservation and Wild Ark to boost the ecosystem of their beloved Australia -- the pair helped Aussie Ark release 11 Tasmanian devils into a wildlife sanctuary at Barrington Tops National Park -- the hush-hush event marked the first time the endangered marsupials whose presence can help repel pests and bush fired were returned to the mainland in 3000 years

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africanization101 · 6 years ago

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Dear A.,You've used the metaphor of life today as a realtime softcore IR flick a couple of times recently. A persuasive analogy! My fave instance: I often encounter on my local jaunts a lithe little teen blonde snowbunny, who is NEVER seen without the close company of A PAIR of strapping black boys. Whatever her 'story,' I'm sure it has many happy endings! Have you been enjoying your own personal irl IR soap opera lately too? Sincerely, Tori Reid

Was that a sly prod for me to write about some of my more exciting interracial observations--a kind of literary (extra-)marital aid? Sure, let’s spice things up a bit in here. I’m actually curious how my audience will take to this compared to my usual content.

I should preface this by saying that my Euro town used to be a sea of unbearable whiteness up until the refugee situation a couple of years ago. Things have sped up quite rapidly since then and knowing the contrast between just a few years ago and now makes this all the more exciting.

Something more basic to start things off with then. There’s a dark-blond white woman in my extended neighborhood, probably around 30 at this point, and though I don’t see her around that often, whenever I do, she’s wearing some combination of tight jeans, leggings, tank top and deep-cut v-neck shirt; it’s safe to say that this is her idea of a casual outfit. And she does have the curves to make it work, especially booty-wise.

Definitely a looker, but I never saw her with a boyfriend or anything like that ... until about 2 years ago, when she was sauntering down the street holding the hand of a tall, African and handsome man who definitely complemented her well. Then I lost sight of her again for a bit, figured she had moved, but oh no; some time last year, I spot the same couple pushing a baby stroller. That sure didn’t take long.

Now the thing about women post-pregnancy is that they often understandably don’t feel like dialing up the sexiness for a while because they have other worries. Not this one though. She was still strutting her stuff for her Black beau in her typically revealing attire and we can only hope this was meant to encourage him to keep up the good work on the baby-making front!

The next story requires a little context. I’m sad to report that my general area is frequently the site of what one might call “racism rallies”. I still go and check them out sometimes, but once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all: a bunch of middle-aged to old white men whining about immigrants in some shape or form. Every now and then, “civil society” will feel pressured enough by this to put on a counter-event to signal to the world that racists don’t speak for everyone. Usually these things feature some kind of music or art show and they draw a much younger and more diverse crowd. And one of those events is the backdrop to our next story.

They called it “Reggae against Racism” or something slightly cheesy like that and as you can guess, it featured a reggae show interspersed with some social commentary. The crowd was mostly under 40 with a lot of younger people who looked like college students. There were slightly more women than men present and a certain contingent of young migrants/refugees had found their way there as well.

The college-aged women were extremely interested in the non-white men there, chatting them up in English (obviously not the native language here) and being noticeably fascinated by their stories. There was a good deal of affectionate touching going on, visibly welcomed by both parties, which quickly escalated to intimate dancing on the open-air lot they had rented for the event. It looked like some whiteboi students were also having a bit of more awkward fun with some of the braided Black girls that absolutely need to show up for any reggae festival to feel complete.

At some point it was time for another speech, delivered by a very emotional white woman in dreadlocks. After some warmly received remarks about how racism is bad, she got all excited and closed her speech with: “And I’m SO SO happy to see all the brave people of color who made it here today, thank you so much, we’re all super inspired by you!!”

And I guess that was the queue to go all-in, because after a good round of applause and woo-ing, the music continued and affectionate dancing turned into fairly primal grinding and twerking. As far as these girls were concerned, their dusky dance partners were their heroes for the day and they weren’t going to let any jealous friends cut in. Of course the usual kissing, butt-squeezing and so forth was happening on the sidelines as well.

As the event drew to a close, a lot of tipsy female students left with those newfound paramours they most likely hadn’t arrived with earlier in the day. Sometimes curious middle-class girls just need an opportunity, right?

I obviously don’t know if there’s any relation between the young people who showed up at the reggae festival and the old white dudes at the racism rallies, but given how much time I have wasted listening to their boring speeches about ~European culture~, I find it most satisfying to imagine that while they were preparing the angry talk for next week’s white male masturbation event, their sweet little darlings were grinding up to the refugees that trigger them so much.

Who knows, maybe they’ll mellow out once they get a brown grandchild. Or maybe their daughters will drop them some other hints that’ll make it too awkward for daddy to be racist anymore. One can only hope!

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calzona-ga · 6 years ago

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The hour, which features multiple scenes in which a rape kit is administered, was allowed to proceed as scripted after Shonda Rhimes challenged the network and its approach to violence, showrunner Krista Vernoff and writer Elisabeth Finch say.

[This story contains spoilers from Thursday’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy, “Silent All These Years.”]

Moved by Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony against Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, Grey’s Anatomy explored consent with one of the medical drama’s most powerful episodes in its historic run.

Named after a Tori Amos song, “Silent All These Years,” the hour featured one of the most in-depth depictions of precisely how a rape kit is administered. The extended scenes in the episode — written by Grey’s Anatomy all-star Elisabeth Finch — were met with pushback from ABC’s Standards and Practices department.

In the below interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Finch and showrunner Krista Vernoff revealed that creator Shonda Rhimes pushed back and “declined” the network’s notes. In a rare and surprising decision, Standards and Practices reversed its stance — and saw the exec who flagged the scenes actually join the women who lined a hallway in support of a rape victim (guest star Khalilah Joi) who was carted off to surgery. The wall of women scene, which also featured many Grey’s Anatomy writers and Shondaland executives, was an incredible show of support rarely, if ever, seen before on a hospital drama. (Watch the moving scene, below.)

To hear Vernoff and Finch tell it, the episode was born out of the latter’s WGA-sponsored trip to UCLA’s Rape Treatment Center in which she observed first-hand the larger discussion around administering such a kit to rape victims.

The episode — the rare Grey’s installment that is driven first by an issue and not by character development — came together after star Camilla Luddington dialed up Vernoff the day of the Kavanaugh hearings and suggested that her character, Jo, be the product of rape. The series was already plotting to introduce Jo’s biological mother (guest star Michelle Forbes) who, as Grey’s diehards recall, abandoned her at a fire station.

Below, Vernoff and Finch open up about the genesis for the episode, how the “talk” about consent between Ben (Jason George) and his stepson, Tuck (BJ Tanner), is already inspiring others and the amazing women who participated in that powerful hallway scene. (It’s also worth noting that women wrote, directed, edited, served as a director of photography, script coordinator and showrunner on this episode.)

Where did the idea of this episode come from? Vernoff: Many places. I was directing an episode and the Christine Blasey Ford testimony happened and the Kavanaugh confirmation happened. I felt that through my whole body — the way a lot of women did. She got up and told her truth and a lot of pundits questioned whether she knew what she was talking about or if she could be believed or remember the face of someone who attacked her years ago. It was a pretty powerful moment to watch all of that. I felt that the most damaging thing that happened in all that is that young women and men everywhere were told that consent was irrelevant. I don’t approach storytelling through issues; we usually approach through character. But I wrote to the writers and said, “We have to find a way to come at this through character. We have to do something about consent and try to do our part to explain what consent is and how impactful rape is and how it can damage people for years, decades and generations.” We had to use our platform to do something. The same day, I got an email from Camilla, who was at home crying [amid the hearings] and who also felt like we had to do something. She said, “I know we’re introducing Jo’s mother this season. What if Jo is a product of rape?” I said yes immediately. I reached out to Finchie and said, “I heard a pitch you had some time ago that included an army of awesome women lining the hallways for a rape survivor. Can you tell me more about that?” And Finchie told me the following …

Finch: Three years ago, the WGA asked certain people if they wanted to go tour UCLA’s Rape Treatment Center in Santa Monica. It’s world renowned. I went there and learned more than I could ever possibly could on television. The most fascinating thing to me was how they treated each individual that walked into their center and the respect they gave them and how they tailored what they do as a process to every single person who comes in the door. It’s something that had been sitting in me for years and I wanted to do it. Sometimes the stars align and the people that you’re working with — and the culture is what it is — and allows you the opportunity to tell something that’s been sitting in you that you cannot let go.

Vernoff: She pitched me this imagining that she had of a bunch of women lining the hallways to support of a rape survivor. I said to please go make an hour of television that is that and Jo’s origin story. Finchie had been, at prior times, kind of discouraged from this story — as if the aftermath of rape was not in itself enough conflict to carry an episode. Finchie kept trying to make it smaller; I said it was the whole hour. She wanted to do the whole hour but had been told somehow that it wasn’t dramatic enough. The stars aligned and the moment was right. She created, what is for me, the most powerful hour of TV I’ve ever been a part of in my 20-year career.

Elisabeth, who told you no about this story? Finch: It wasn’t a matter of being told no. My brain thinks in photographs and then my writer brain thinks about how to tell the story and I try to figure out the narrative behind it. I kept seeing this army of women and kept saying that it was a race against time because they knew that there was something wrong that they had to fix surgically but in order to do that, they’d wipe away all the evidence. I think sometimes it’s hard to imagine how much people can watch when it comes to this subject matter. Normally our characters are going through something in their medical lives and then it reflects on their personal lives. When you’re dealing with issues of sexual assault, it’s really hard to go back and be like, “Well, who should I be dating?” It was hard to figure out what to pair it with and who it would impact of our people the most. With Camilla pitching this, it all felt like, “I get why it’s her and why now and why this.” It felt like the best timing of it. Watching Krista direct an episode while all of these things were coming up with the Kavanaugh hearings and watching her be such a powerful leader through all that — despite her own feelings and all of the feelings of everyone on set at the same time— really helped me understand and see an example of how you can have all the feelings and carry them and also lead. That’s where Jo is today. She’s carrying all of this collective pain of her, and her mother and all these things and still walking through her day and being of service and help and making something else better that day.

Vernoff: I don’t think anybody said no to the story. Finchie had pitched this story a couple of times and we tried to find ways to fit it into episodes and it just kept falling by the wayside. It fell by wayside because it was meant to be born at this moment with this Jo story where it becomes one great big powerful hour. As just an A or B story in a traditional episode, it wouldn’t have had quite the same impact.

What do you hope viewers take away from this episode? Vernoff: I hope viewers walk away with a greater understanding of what consent means — and a deeper understanding of how many different ways rape can impact not only the survivor but the generations that follow. I hope that medical professionals come away with conversations about modalities and systems that can be put into place to better help survivors because many of the things that you see Jo do in this episode are things that Finchie learned from the Rape Crisis Center that she visited. These are systems that can and should be implanted in hospitals everywhere.

Finch: I hope more men watch it not just for the consent — though it’s a huge part of it — but for empathy with their partners and friends. I read an article recently that talked about this woman who visits high schools talking about consent and rape and these boys with the sweetest faces and the most empathy you can see in their eyes are talking about their female friends who are hurting themselves because they were raped. And nine times out of 10, those boys will say something like, “I don’t understand, it happened two years ago.” Even the boys with the most empathy in the world can’t understand why the results are so lasting and so strong. That’s something I hope makes a dent in our younger generation.

There was a PSA for RAINN after the episode, which is an organization Grey’s spinoff Private Practiceworked with on a rape episode in 2011. What kind of feedback did you get from them? Finch: We worked closely with RAINN to make sure our language was as current as it could be. They were helpful about looking at the script and were grateful that we included men because so often when we talk about rape we talk about women. Even though the ratio is higher for women, it does exist for men as well —

Vernoff: Particularly for soldiers. Finch: I was excited to work with them because they were helpful to me when I was in college and a friend came to me and was assaulted. I didn’t know what to do — and there wasn’t the internet yet. I’d been to a Tori Amos concert and she was the biggest face of that organization when they were initially starting out. I learned about them there and she had a stand with bumper stickers and things and I’d left with one. That’s where I knew where to go to help my friend. [Editor’s note: The episode takes its name from one of Amos’ most beloved songs.]

That’s an incredible story. Finchie, you were also in the powerful hallway scene. Was that always the plan? Vernoff: No! We forced her to do it. It was the opposite of planned; it was like an intervention. That hallway contains nearly the entire female writing staff [of Grey’s]. It contains exec producers on the show, exec producers in Shondaland, most of our female crew members. That entire hallway is Shondland women and that is because they wanted to do it. So many women came up to us after the table read and asked if they could be in that scene. They were willing to lose a day’s pay to be in that scene. Finchie and I reached out to our line producer and the Shondaland head of production and to Shonda herself and said, “Can we find a way for all these women to do this without them having to lose a day’s pay?” The answer was yes. That’s not an easy thing to do — to bring other crew members in so your female crew members can be in a scene. But it’s Shondaland and we got a big yes. That hallway is full of women who read that script and wanted to stand there and be a part of this thing. They are not actors. They are holding space in the most beautiful way for the actress — Khalilah Joi, who is everything. Finchie tried to not be in the scene and we basically did an intervention and made her do it. Then she tried to say that she couldn’t be in the scene because she had to produce the scene and watch the monitors. I said, “I’ll watch the monitors!” I was there and got to be a part of it in my own way. It was really the most powerful day on a set I’ve ever had. There was a reverence on that day that I’ve never experienced.

Are you submitting Khalilah Joi for guest actress in a drama Emmy consideration? Vernoff: We are. And Michelle Forbes. Khalilah Joi came in to audition for our show four or five times over a period of a year. Every time I saw her, it was for a one- or two-page scene character. I kept saying how much I loved her but the parts were too small. [Casting director] Linda Lowy kept bringing her back and I kept saying that she’s amazing but we had to do something bigger for us. She came into audition for the episode before this one and [director/exec producer] Debbie Allen wanted to cast her. I said there was something else. Then Finchie’s script came out. Khalilahgot that role as an offer — she didn’t have to audition for that role. She’d paid her dues. She’s incredible.

Elisabeth, how much research did you do into how much of this had been depicted before? These scenes feel groundbreaking in just how extensive the portrayal was. Finch: Only one I’m aware of Private Practice did a truncated version of it and I can’t speak for SVU but PP was one most aware of and I did a lot of searching. I did a lot of research to make sure that I was doing it differently. Because it’s done so rarely, I wanted to make sure whatever we did revealed a different side of something so that people could be educated. Private was the only one that popped up.

Did you get any pushback from the network or Standards and Practices? Vernoff: We received notes initially from ABC’s Broadcast Standards and Practices. They give these standard notes: “don’t be too gory”; “don’t be too explicit in your language”; “no side boob.” But the ones we got on this script included, “Please don’t show any fluid on the Q-tips” and “Please don’t show any body fluids under the blue lights.” Shonda wrote back a pretty passionate response of the myriad ways that networks are willing to show actual violence but that what we were doing here was the medical process that happens in the wake of violence and they were trying to tell us we couldn’t show it. She said, “Respectfully, I decline these notes.” that ultimately ABC understood that she was right. I really give them credit that they came back and said, “You’re right. You can proceed as scripted.” We then extended the invitation to that ABC Broadcast S&P executive to be part of the wall of women and she came.

Why was it important to you to have this discussion about consent on a show like Grey’s that is still one of the top programs on broadcast and is sold all around the world? Vernoff: It means a lot. As partisan as the Supreme Court situation was and is, this episode is not a partisan episode. As much as the political moment that began the conversation is somehow partisan, rape is a nonpartisan issue. Rape occurs worldwide. The statists are staggering and nobody cares what your political affiliation is. It’s a worldwide blight. The opportunity to really look at it through so many different lenses that is ultimately deeply humanizing, character-driven storytelling, empathetic storytelling … I feel privileged to be a part of it and so grateful for Finchie, [director] Debbie Allen and Shonda. It feels pretty overwhelming.

Finch: Every woman on the staff wrote some piece of this episode. Because we have such a diverse and amazing and brilliant staff, I wanted that hall of women to have every woman on staff to be a part of it. Krista wrote this incredible scene between Tuck and Ben that describes consent in a way that’s so clear and relatable. A woman on our crew who is a single mother told me that when her son is a couple years older she’s going to play that scene for him because she’s trying to find the best way to get through to him. When I think about that one individual, with that idea and the number of people who will do that — and the parents who will start a conversation with that scene, it breaks my brain and heart open in a way I didn’t think possible.

Were you surprised you had the viewer discretion warning or did you ask for one? Vernoff: We requested it and ABC watched episode and agreed with us. It’s interesting because we’re not depicting violence and yet the experience of watching the episode come together made it very clear that the way we’re telling this story is so rare that women are overcome with emotion. At one point, ABC said maybe not have the trigger warning and I told them that I had yet to watch this episode without someone sobbing and felt strongly that we should give viewers the heads up to watch with a friend.

This episode also saw Jo reveal she had an abortion when she was married to her abusive ex-husband. Can you talk about the decision to incorporate that into this episode? Finch: The abortion came in because I wanted to incorporate as many points of view as possible. Jo’s mom talks about how she was trying to keep the baby and other women do that and think, “Why can’t I?” Between that and the abortion and what happened with Jo, there are so many different ways that I’ve personally known people and how they’ve dealt with it. Some mothers have a baby because they were raped and some are able to raise them. Some are not able to raise them but have them and put up them up for adoption. Some decide that they’re in a situation where they want to have an abortion. In Jo’s case, she had an abortion because she was in a relationship with someone who was abusive. But it was important to me to show as many choices as we possibly could and one of the many reasons why we should have every choice under the world in the world that we live.

Jo is the child of rape. How will knowing that affect her going forward?Vernoff: Profoundly. It was a really interesting left turn in our season because we’d planned something different for Jo and then this episode emerged. I watched the shooting of it and it became clear that it wasn’t a one-off and “Jo experienced this and now back to your regular programming!” It became clear from Camilla’s performance that Jo was going to have to process this in really profound ways that were going to derail the storytelling we had planned for the season — and we and Camilla — were good with that.

It’s already affecting Jo’s relationship with her husband Alex (Justin Chambers) and since she hasn’t told anyone, her friendships, too. Vernoff: We’re telling a story about trauma and a story about depression. Things tend to get worse before they get better. Jo knows what it’s like to be abused by someone. How will finding that out about her biological mom impact how she copes with this knowledge? Presumably there’s a struggle with not being able to get mad because she knows what her mother went through. Vernoff: Right. This is a deep and complicated well that Jo has fallen into. It’s a deep pain. Often what happens in the brain is it looks for linear ways to process information and when it can’t find one, it often just gets stuck in the shit. Jo is a little stuck in the shit and is going to have to find her way out. But it’s not going to be easy. This was a bottle episode for Jo and there’s an Amelia (Caterina Scorsone) stand-alone episode coming soon. Will that episode be issue-focused, too? Vernoff: t’s entirely different. The Amelia episode is really funny and not issue-laden. It feels emotionally satisfying for long-term Amelia fans. It’s a joy ride. We’ve been making this romantic comedy for the most part this season and had a couple episodes more exceptions to the rule — like this Camilla episode. The Amelia episode is a straight up rom-com, with some family guts underneath it and with some really lovely emotional resolve.

You’re currently in production on the season 15 finale. How would you describe that? Vernoff: The season finale is funny and dramatic and unexpected. Finch: I’m a longtime Grey’s fan and this is a favorite of mine.

Given the nature of some of the old Grey’s finales, will you be saying farewell to any series regulars in the episode? Vernoff: You know I can’t answer that!

#grey's anatomy #Krista Vernoff #elisabeth r. finch #jo wilson #jo karev #alex karev #Amelia Shepherd #15x19 #15x24 #THR #scoop #15x21

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