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bffhreprise · 3 years ago

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Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

“Slow down!” exclaimed Iris. “Turn left just up ahead.”

I nodded and complied. She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored. I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb. To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

“He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

“Mila watches everything, so there’s no need. There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain. I had considerably underestimated the size of this place. I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds. Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed. I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed. Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect. James certainly knew how to make an impression.

When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor. “James! Thank you for having us. This is quite a place you’ve got here. Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

“There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed. “Thank you for accepting the invitation. I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game. Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

“This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

“Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

“No need to apologize. We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion. Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this. Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology? “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

“You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees. I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts. We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James. “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in. My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.” Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you. She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

“How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

“My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything. You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son. “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report. There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

That sounded far too believable. I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics. “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us. What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

“So many things, Dad. James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

“I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea. My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

“What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food. My mouth was already watering.

“We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat. I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through. Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield. Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon. Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

“I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

“Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.

“If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you. Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

“You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”

“All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

Iris laughed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

“I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

James shook his head and said, “Not even close.” Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

“The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

“What!? No way!” exclaimed Mike.

Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after. She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake. I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years. I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

I found the idea mind-boggling. James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

“You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end. “You get too distracted. I could handle a village in an hour!” She was soaked, but grinning.

Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

“Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson. This is her mother, Mirabella. From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt. Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

“Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

“Sure.” he conceded.

“Hear that? I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

“Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

“Nah. I do this.” she replied, watching us all. After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

“Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower. Plants can be very good at guiding water. As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants. We have plans and stuff!”

“You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

“I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

“The idea was actually Maxine’s. She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

“You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

“There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

“I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes. Yes, we are.’ Mua ha ha ha ha!” She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

“Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

“Sounds fun.” he agreed.

From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted. She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game. Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table. There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us. James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice. Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table. Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air. James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real. Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him. Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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scare-theory · 4 years ago

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Who do u think is gonna die in s4

Good question! I’ve talked about this before but let’s get into it.

Let’s get a few things out of the way first: A lot of people operate under two assumptions when talking about who’s going to die. One, there will only be one major death, and two, they will not kill any of the kids, simply because they are kids.

Honestly, I don’t think those are safe assumptions to make. Especially the second one. Horror as of late has demonstrated a willingness to kill off younger characters more often (Hereditary, A Quiet Place, Doctor Sleep, IT, etc...) than has been seen before. I don’t think we should completely discount them. As for the other point, we could ABSOLUTELY see a repeat of season 3 with two major deaths, or perhaps even more. I don’t understand where the idea of one major death came from, especially with this show.

Be prepared for more than one major death in season 4. Don’t say no one warned you.

That being said, here’s my top five.

Nancy or Jonathan: I say this because they are at about equal (very high) risk in my mind. Both make sense narratively, especially in relation to the characters around them, and neither are so integral to the plot (at least so far) that the show would de rail without them.) The biggest evidence here to me is the VSF movies, though. The percentage of them that involve the death of a main character’s sibling is frankly staggering, and interestingly both characters fit that description. If I had to say one or the other, I’d give the higher odds of death to Jonathan, due to Will’s story arc mostly.

Steve: He’s not as high as Jonathan and Nancy because of the VSF point, but he still is pretty high on my list. Steve is a character with a clear and very well done arc in this series, and I think nothing would make for a more full transformation from douchebag to hero than some sort of sacrificial demise. I think him dying would not only hit the emotional beats it should, but also work as a great sendoff to a great character.

Dustin: Of all of the Party, I think he’s in the most danger. His relationship with Steve feels like it is setting up for heartbreak to me (in one way or another), but more than that, it would make the most narrative sense to happen before the end of the series. Most of the other characters have a relationship that needs fixing, self-realization to embark on. Dustin’s character arc feels the closest to either being over, or starting something unexpected and new.

Kali and Her Group: Now, I think these would be alongside another death. However, the trailer has made this group SKYROCKET on my list for people most likely to die. The trailer makes me think the subjects will be of more importance (perhaps even a new one being a villain), so I can see them dying fairly easily. Perhaps even early in the season. More than likely, they will be used to establish a threat for El, as in “they can take Kali no problem, what chance do you have?”

Joyce: God I hope this doesn’t happen. Holy shit I hope this doesn’t happen. There’s one thing that really makes this stick out as an option to me, though, and that is the possibility that Will has powers, and somehow, they have to be fully realized. We’ve seen El’s powers being magnified by trauma and desperation many times, and that’s why I’m so worried about the Byers family this season. Again, I hope this doesn’t happen. Killing off Winona Ryder is a deadly sin in my mind, but I’m preparing myself now, just in case.

Now, one could totally take all of us by surprise. My money is on Eleven or Mike being that if it happens, but that’s my top five for the moment.

Thank you so much for asking!

#stranger things theory #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #fan theory

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humans4vampires · 4 years ago

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Cold Heart

Context: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from tumblr user @cozycullens. The post outlined the potential for sappy holiday content that the original story lacked. The post noted that Twilight fans had to fill in the blanks; I thought it would be fun to write out what Valentine’s Day could have looked like for Edward and Bella. The timeline of this story edits the original canon, meaning the breakup in New Moon and subsequent recoupling happens earlier, allowing the pair to be reunited in time to spend both the Christmas holiday season together and Valentine’s Day. This is before the events are set in motion for the vampire army attack in Eclipse. I’d also like to mention that this story addresses a scene that occurs later in the timeline of the novel. I’ve edited it here to give Edward and Bella a bit of private time that is free of the pressures that the later happenings of Eclipse bring to the moment. In this, I have used direct quotes from Meyer’s novel, and I do not claim to own that content in any way. As stated, this is purely for fun and to share with my fellow Twilight fans.

READ PART TWO HERE

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The dull blue grey light of the morning filtered through my window in a haze, waking me gently from inconsequential dreams. My natural instincts to unfurl myself from my usual swaddle of blankets to reach for him felt empty and unnecessary. Rather, I found myself spread across my bed in a sweaty mess of fabric.

“Edward?” I said softly, propping myself up to take in the room. I blinked quickly and tried to brush the mess of my hair from my face, speaking his name again as a question. There was no reply.

I tried to think back to the night before; I didn’t think he had gone hunting. No, he had surely been with me when I fell asleep. A compilation of Victorian poetry was open face-down on his side of my bed. We made the trip to Seattle a few weeks ago to get the book I needed to get started on my research paper. I had chosen the topic of Tennyson and Rossetti as an ironic gesture toward him – my very own post-Victorian era angel. He was reading his favorites to me, his voice a velvet whisper when I had fallen asleep in his cool embrace.

No, I was sure he had been with me throughout the night. I ran my left palm over the bare sheet beside me and felt the lingering presence of his wintry skin. It was unusual for him to leave before I woke. It was my favorite part of each day, and his. I was wondering what had called him away as I picked up the heavy text to see where he had left off. As I turned the pages to face me, a small piece of paper fluttered into my lap. The note he had left in his elegant script explained his absence.

‘Who are wise in love, love most, say least. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.’

He quoted Tennyson, I was sure, but the poem he had left open was not the same one he referenced. Instead, the book was open to Tennyson’s ‘Crossing the Bar,’ which was certainly not a love poem. I scanned it quickly, trying to garner any meaning from it without success. My mind was racing elsewhere, my heart beating quickly with exultant dread. So he had gone to prepare whatever exorbitant Valentine’s Day surprise he had planned. As fate would have it, this holiday had arrived on a school day and would provide a public audience to witness the surely over-the-top display Edward had planned for me.

Edward’s obsession with making the most of my human experiences had only intensified since reaching our compromise for Carlisle to turn me after my impending high school graduation. Christmas had been a deluge of cheer and merriment thanks to Alice, who was overcompensating for lost time with me – while also, just being Alice. I was still convinced it hadn’t snowed quite as much as she’d wanted and she had somehow managed a snow machine to fill in my yard for Christmas morning. Alice had laughed off my assumptions as absurd, but Charlie was still trying to work out how our yard had had a good three feet more snow than the rest of our neighborhood.

The halls had certainly been decked in Cullen home, too. It had to be visible from space from the sheer amount of Christmas lights neatly hung on every eave and railing. For the entire month of December, the house smelled of fresh gingerbread and pine. Every surface had been transformed with fresh garlands and shiny decorations. The fireplace in the grand living room was constantly crackling a gentle fire, flickering its light against the enormous tree trimmed with ornaments gathered over the many decades of Christmases past. And the gifts – oh – I couldn’t even bring myself to continue the thought.

I was brought back to reality, the sweet valentine in my shaking hand. I took a staggered breath and made a passing glance at the clock as I rushed to the bathroom. I tried not to think about the day ahead as I dressed. Charlie had already left for the station and the rest of my morning at home seemed to move in a blur of anxiety. I stumbled out the door in a black turtleneck, jeans, bean boots, and my mustard yellow coat. I thought my very standard attire might signal Edward to my disinterest in any outlandish public displays of affection. I drove slowly to Forks High School through the rain muddled snow. My truck dredged through the sludge into the parking spot beside the familiar silver Volvo.

The parking lot was already full and busy with the usual Friday commotion. I looked out my rearview mirror to take in the pops of pink and red from the Valentine’s baubles that everyone seemed to be toting. I had always found the holiday rather arbitrary – a well-marketed event to boost the sales of chocolates and flowers. Until my mother had found Phil, Valentine’s Day was usually spent in front of the television with a pint of ice cream, two spoons, and a chick-flick. I was trying to remember the last Valentine’s Day movie my mom and I had watched together when a quick knock on my driver’s side window snapped my eyes from my rearview.

The morning’s panic melted from my bones as I took him in. Edward was standing there, my favorite crooked smile on his lips, a single and perfect red rose held up in his hand.

“Good morning,” he murmured as I opened my door and got to my feet to stand in front of him. “Did you get my Valentine?”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Tennyson?”

He nodded, a smirk crossing his expression. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

I felt a blush beginning to mark my cheeks and looked down at my feet as he handed me my rose. He moved to rest that now empty hand above my head on the frame of my truck, leaning to tighten the space between us. His free hand swept down my jaw, his gentle fingers stopping below my chin to tilt my head up. He bent down to press his lips to mine, his cool breath sending my delicate humanity into a tailspin. The kiss was, as expected, refined… at first. Unexpectedly, he draped an arm around my body to pull me closer to his frame. He lifted me effortlessly to continue the kiss as my free hand found its way around the base of his neck and into his bronze hair.

When his response became rigid and he began to return my feet to their reluctant ground, I realized I had forgotten to breathe. My legs trembled against the sudden gravity and he steadied me as I took in sharp breaths. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you?” he teased.

“With any hope, that, again.”

He took a slow step back and smirked, “I do enjoy sweeping you off your feet.”

My head was still spinning as I grabbed my bag from the truck and shut the door behind me. Edward took my right hand as we walked to class, my single rose in the left.

The rest of the day continued on and I was a happy bystander to the couples declaring their love for one another throughout the day. It seemed each period passed with another sudden delivery of roses, large teddy bears, or chocolates. Joyce Lowell in Government received a loud serenade from half of the school’s marching band, her boyfriend, Aaron, the faux-conductor. Each time the door to the classroom opened my heart skipped a beat with the fresh fear that Edward might have some embarrassing demonstration planned. I wasn’t eager to hurt his feelings and so I kept the question from him all day. I had cracked by fifth period when he finally asked, “Why is your heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s?”

“I’m worried that you have a grand romantic gesture planned,” I took a sharp breath, anxious for his response. My heart rate only increased when he shrugged and walked ahead of me into the classroom.

I was at a loss for words when he chuckled. “Am I not allowed a grand gesture on Valentine’s Day?” Panic rushed through me before he continued in a more serious tone, “Do you honestly believe that my romantic displays are akin to those of someone like Mike Newton?”

His eyes glanced down at the trinkets gathered in my arms. I thought this tradition had been left in elementary school, but it seemed my friends still enjoyed giving each other Valentine’s treats. Jessica and Angela both had given me small paper crafts and chocolates to mark the occasion. Even Tyler and Eric participated, handing out boxes of tiny heart candies.

The only class Edward could not manage to work out to have with me our senior year was math – considering my being in a far lower level than was excusable for him to fail into. This, of course, was the only class I had exclusively with Mike. I had found it funny that it bothered Edward in the slightest; until today, when Mike seized the opportunity to give me a large stuffed bear, a rather huge box of chocolates, and a clearly handmade valentine. All platonically, Mike had assured me, as he was still on-and-off with Jessica and I was still very much Edward’s – only Edward’s.

I shook my head as I fumbled to stack all of my favors onto a pile on my desk, keeping the rose in my hand to tap lightly on the tip of Edward’s nose.

He tilted his brow at my playful gesture. “You have nothing to worry about. I simply have arranged for us to have a night alone. My family have their own Valentine’s Day traditions and we’ll have the house to ourselves. For this one night could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?” he pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. “It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.”

“No,” I shook my head again. “Just you is good.”

The hitch in my tone caught his attention, but he didn’t have a chance to respond. Mr. Banner began lecturing on optics and light. I couldn’t focus on Physics; I could only hear Edward’s methodic voice repeating ‘I need to be with you’ again and again. Each passing thought brought a new blush to my cheeks that I tried to hide behind a curtain of my hair. I was sure he could hear my fluttering heart, but I couldn’t focus on that either. I was entirely clouded with thoughts of him. I stared at his strong hands, folded together in front of him on the table. How I imagined them on my body a million times, his cold fingertips grazing over my bare skin in the places he refused to wander. It was all I could think of the rest of the day.

When I was back in my room, a different blur of anxiety plagued me than when I had left it in the morning. Edward and I went our separate ways after school. He had filled me in on how exactly he had planned to handle the issue of Charlie. My father was still learning to trust me again and another night out of the house was certainly going to come under some heavy interrogation. I was technically still grounded even though Edward had been following Charlie’s very strict rules to a perfect degree. I was sure that Charlie hadn’t missed the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and I could only imagine the things he would think Edward and I would be doing if left alone. I was pressing the subject when Edward said, “Esme spoke with Charlie today and let him know that Carlisle is taking my brothers and I on a long-promised camping trip. You’ll be having a girls’ night with Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, as Charlie knows it. He’s been hoping you’d be spending more time with Alice soon.”

I felt a twinge of guilt for all the lying that had to be done to protect Charlie. This lie was much less to protect him from the perils of life threatening vampire attacks and much more about protecting him from the thought of his teenage daughter being alone with her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. The guilt subsided when I remembered that I would get to be alone with Edward.

I stood in my room, hands steadying me on my dresser, knees shaking from the anticipation. The mix of emotions kept wracking me in waves. Edward had made it very clear; we could not be together physically until I was changed. My safety, was not something he was willing to jeopardize to satisfy any desire – which, to his credit, was entirely the reason I was alive. It was difficult to argue with Edward on that fact, but it was so incredibly difficult to argue with my own desires, still. And yet, I felt foolish all the same. I was so intensely human. Though he’d told me many times that he felt the same way for me, I knew he couldn’t possibly lust for me the way I did for him. I was able to reason that point logically, but part of me questioned it in this moment. Had he changed his mind?

I knew what was waiting for me at the Cullens’. It hadn’t been much more than a month since the last time I had genuinely spent the night there for a ‘girls’ night.’ Edward didn’t want me anywhere near Jacob and so Edward had been avoiding distant hunting trips to keep a close watch on me. Alice was all too eager to babysit to allow Edward a satiating hunt; it left me free to be played with as if I were her life-sized doll. That wasn’t what I was fixated on now. The image of the intricate wrought-iron bed burned in my mind. The thought of Edward and I wrapped tenderly in its golden threads made me quiver again, a sigh escaping my lips.

A knock at the front door made my heart stutter. I heard Charlie gather himself up off the couch to get the door. I stopped listening and only heard the light murmur of greetings as I rushed to find something appropriate to wear. What kind of outfit were you supposed to put together to seduce your vampire boyfriend? I was clashing hangers together across the pole, a bit frantic, when I heard her behind me.

Alice shook her head. “You look like you need to sit down. Let me handle this,” she said.

I decided it was better not to argue with her. I was, in all fairness, a mess, and there was only so much harm she could do with my own wardrobe to work with. She confidently pulled my small duffle from the top shelf of my closet and began packing things without truly looking at them. She had already seen what she would need.

I was sitting in my rocking chair when she looked back to me, still absently packing my bag. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something, but I swallowed uncomfortably rather than working up the nerve to talk.

She cast me a sympathetic smile as she removed something from my closet and tossed it toward me. “Try this,” she said.

I stood to change into the hyacinth blue sweater Alice had given it to me as a Christmas gift. Unlike many of the other fashion pieces Alice had tried to dress me in, I did like it. It was soft, probably a thin cashmere, with a plunging V neckline. It fit my frame tightly and was flattering in a way that I couldn’t justify being embarrassed by. She moved to my dresser then, digging through the very bottom drawer to pull out a short skirt she had also gifted me that I was not particularly fond of. Before I could argue, she slung it onto the bed.

“Work with me here, Bella,” she said sternly.

I pulled on the black skirt without a fight. Alice finished off my outfit with a pair of expensive black leather boots.

“And those were a gift from Esme, before you think of disputing them,” she lectured.

“No, I like them. At least they’re covering more of my skin,” I said, zipping them up.

Alice peaked her eyebrows, a smirk budding on her face as she closed my bag. I felt the rush of blood on my complexion again. “Alice – “

“Come on, let’s go before you lose it,” she said quickly, pulling my hand and leading me out of my room and down the stairs.

Charlie didn’t bother looking away from the television as we called a quick goodbye to him. Alice carried me through the slush in a movement so brief that I had no time to process it, placing me in the passenger seat of her small yellow Porsche. Forks blurred outside the windows and in the darkness of the car, it was easier for me to talk about what I was getting myself into.

“Does he…” I asked in her direction, not finishing the thought.

“I don’t think I should really say anything, Bella.” She answered, plainly.

“Since when do you keep things to yourself, Alice?”

She chuckled quietly, “Whatever I say now is not going to help. I’m just dropping you off. You’re not the only one with Valentine’s Day plans, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” I complained. “He’s seen whatever you’ve seen. He’s not going into this blind like I am.”

“Oh, yes he is,” she said proudly. “I’ve been careful to stay away from him today – and it’s not quite clear what’s going to happen. You’ve only been growing bolder in the last few hours.”

Bolder? I certainly didn’t feel it. In the light of the dashboard, I saw Alice turn to me as the car began to slow. We were already in the driveway. When the car stopped, I felt a quick breeze from the opening and closing of her door. She had slung my bag over her shoulder quickly before arriving at my door to help me to the porch steps. I doubted even Alice thought I was that uncoordinated to walk a few feet without falling; she was carrying me everywhere to keep the boots safe, I thought. She set me down on the porch and walked ahead of me into the house. I followed her in, confused.

“I thought you said you were just dropping me off?”

We were in the living room when she said, “I am. Edward isn’t here yet. He had an errand to run. He’ll be here soon and we’ll be gone – don’t worry.”

A fresh blush met my cheeks as I locked eyes with the another set in the room. Rosalie was perched on the edge of the sofa, bent over the coffee table arranging what looked like a large photo album. She had small papers and photos scattered all over the table, some in small piles on the floor beside her. She gazed up at me with the come-to-be-expected level of enthusiasm I generally received, but there was a hint of something else in her expression. It caught me by surprise and left me gawking at her silently. Rosalie’s appearance always struck me, but tonight she was especially beautiful. Her tight satin dress was just the perfect shade of red to compliment her equally satin skin, her golden hair a perfect, elegant twist, and her long bare legs crossed in front of her were only further elongated by her strappy, red stilettos. Alice had done her best with me, but I felt myself self-consciously tug at the hem of my skirt.

That inexplicable look that I had caught in Rosalie’s expression seemed to grow stronger as she gauged my assessment of her. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked back to what she was working on and I looked to Alice, who was dancing back down the stairs now. I hadn’t noticed her departure, but she was already redressed in an ensemble that mirrored the glamour of Rosalie’s. Alice bent one leg up behind her, fastening the tiny buckle on the strap of her heel, careful not to bend and crease the fabric on her burgundy slip-dress.

“Alright, Rose. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” Alice rolled her eyes at me quickly before Rosalie noticed. Alice had her keys in her tiny hands as she walked my direction to head for the door.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she said with a coy grin.

Rosalie was out the door faster than I could follow. I turned to Alice as she moved at a more mortal pace. “Where are you going?” I asked.

Alice waved as she replied, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bella!” The door was shut behind her then. I heard the muffled roar of her Porsche as she and Rosalie left me behind. I assumed that I was completely alone then. I was curious to know where they were going, but my mind was busy calculating other worries. I stood in the Cullens’ living room, taking in the sheer silence. The only sound was coming from the low burning fire still crackling dimly in the fireplace. I unlocked my tense limbs to move toward the heat. I stopped briefly to survey Rosalie’s project and flipped through a couple of pages on the bound album.

Were these all valentines? I picked up a few loose papers from the table and skimmed them quickly. It seemed that Rosalie had been collecting notes from her admirers for decades, compiling the highlights in an album with cards dating back to 1929. Some of the earlier letters were from when she was still human, if I wasn’t mistaken. A few authors were brave enough to sign their names, but most were anonymous confessions. I spent more time snooping through Rosalie’s valentines than I should have, but part of me thought that she must have wanted me to see them. Why else would she have left them all here?

I focused myself again and took a seat on the edge of the hearth.

I was glad I had a moment to gather myself and took the opportunity to take a few deep, but unsteady, breaths. Why was I so unnerved? I closed my eyes and tried to summon my buried fantasies of Edward. There I let myself imagine him, pulling me tightly to his chest, letting his lips roam my jaw, my neck, and the dips of my collarbones. What would he look like bare? I’d only been able to guess the parts of him that were always just beyond my reach. I let those thoughts in too, imagining my own fingers tracing patterns around the curves of his muscles. To bring him close to me, skin to skin – the thought alone painted my face in a soft blush. I bit my lip, letting go a full breath I had been holding. I opened my eyes then and immediately found him.

He was standing across the room from me, a statue of indescribable, sculpted beauty, leaning on the wall casually. He had a peaceful expression resting in his features, but his bright golden eyes were burning with something I couldn’t explain. My favorite crooked smile slowly crossed his lips as his eyes seemed to search my body. I blushed more deeply, a decision forming more firmly in my mind.

I loved him, purely, and every ounce of my body and soul ached to be his. It was exactly the reason I had asked him to change me himself. I wanted his venom to alter me permanently, his lips on my skin to be the last human sensation I’d ever feel. I wanted to be tangibly his, forever; for Edward to lay claim to me in an absolute and eternal way. If I was his, then he was mine. This desire burned in me more brightly in this moment than it ever had. But there were other human sensations I ached for now. And suddenly, I was sure I was not willing to sacrifice them.

Edward moved slowly across the room to perch in front of me. The height of the hearth and his tall body in a crouch before me, leveled us to be equally face-to-face. As he bent, he balanced a small, thin velvet box on my knees. I made no move to open it, so he chuckled lightly and opened it to reveal a small glittering heart-shaped charm. Even in the dim firelight, the brilliant crystal’s intricate cuts glinted countless sparkling rays of color. It was hung on a silver chain as thin as thread.

He was the first to break the silence.

“It was my mother’s.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I’ve given some to Esme, Alice, and Rosalie throughout the years. So, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way.” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to stare down, not quite ready to speak. “A hand-me-down,” he reminded me sternly. “You said that was allowable.”

“I guess I did say that,” I said in a whisper.

He chuckled at my reluctance. “I thought it was a good representation,” he continued. “It’s hard and cold.” He laughed. “And it throws rainbows in the sunlight.”

“You forgot the most important similarity,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“My heart is just as silent,” he mused. “And it, too, is yours.”

I offered the box to him and moved to gather my hair away from my neck, turning to the fire. As he moved to clasp the chain around my neck, I said, “Thank you for both.”

His fingers seemed to linger on the skin of my throat as I turned back to face him. Our lips were only inches apart now. I moved my hands to wrap them around his neck.

“No, thank you. It’s a relief to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too.” He grinned, flashing his teeth. His eyes wandered down to take pride in his accepted gift. I was grateful for the plunging neckline of my sweater when his gaze lingered where the crystal charm hung delicately above my chest. I made a mental note to thank Alice later and took a steadying breath. I began to feel cautiously optimistic. Perhaps getting what I wanted would not be as difficult as I’d expected it to be.

No, of course it was going to be just exactly that difficult. I cleared my throat lightly and braced myself. “Can we discuss something?” I asked. “I’d appreciate it if you could begin by being open-minded.”

He hesitated for a moment and returned his eyes to mine. “I’ll give it my best effort,” he agreed, cautious now. He unwrapped my arms from around his neck as he moved to put space between us.

“I’m not breaking any rules here,” I promised. “This is strictly about you and me.”

“Listen to your heart fly,” he murmured. “It’s fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings,” he repeated the analogy he had applied to me earlier in the day. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great,” I said formally. I wondered why I was being so formal.

“Please go on then,” he encouraged.

“Well, I guess, first, I wanted to talk to you about that whole ridiculous marriage condition.”

“It’s only ridiculous to you. What about it?” He was backing further away from me now.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hands on his knees to keep him near me. “I was wondering… is that open to negotiation?”

Edward frowned, serious now. “I’ve already made the largest concession by far and away – I’ve agreed to take your life against my better judgment. And that ought to entitle me to a few compromises on your part.”

“No.” I shook my head, focusing on keeping my face composed. “That part’s a done deal. We’re not discussing that now. I want to hammer out some other details.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Which details do you mean exactly?”

I hesitated. “Let’s clarify your prerequisites first – matrimony?” I made it sound like a dirty word.

“Yes.” He smiled a wide smile. “To start with.”

The shock spoiled my carefully composed expression. “There’s more?”

“Well,” he said, his face calculating. “If you’re my wife, then what’s mine is yours… So there would be no issue with Dartmouth tuition.”

“Anything else? While you’re already being absurd?”

“Time. I’m finding it quite ephemeral… like it’s slipping through my fingers,” as he spoke, he rose his finger tips to sweep a gentle line over my exposed collarbones.

I shook my head, trying to forget his distracting touch. “No. No time. That’s a deal breaker.”

He sighed longingly. “Just a year or two?”

I refused to give into his burning amber eyes. “What else?”

“That’s it. Unless you’d like to talk cars…”

He grinned widely when I grimaced, then took my hand and began playing with my fingers. “I didn’t realize there was anything else you wanted besides being transformed into a monster yourself. I’m extremely curious.” His voice was low and soft. The slight edge would have been hard to detect if I hadn’t known it so well.

I paused, staring at his hand on mine. I still didn’t know how to begin. I felt his eyes watching me and I was afraid to look up. The blood began to burn in my face.

His cool hand cupped my cheek. “You’re blushing?” he asked in surprise. I kept my eyes down. “Please, Bella, the suspense is painful.”

I bit my lip.

“Bella.” His tone reproached me now, reminding me that it was hard for him when I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Edward,” I said, nervous, staring at a freckle on my wrist. “There’s something that I want to do before I’m not human anymore.”

He waited for me to continue. I didn’t. My face was hot.

“Whatever you want,” he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.

“Do you promise?” I muttered, knowing my attempt to trap him with his words was not going to work. But he was unable to resist my coaxing.

“Yes,” he said. I looked up through my lashes to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

I couldn’t believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent. I didn’t have the faintest idea how to be seductive. I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.

“You,” I mumbled almost incoherently.

“I’m yours.” He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.

I took a deep breath and leaned closer to him, pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back, bewildered but willing, his lips gentle against mine. I began to slide my hands from his knees, up his thighs and slowly toward his waist. I hadn’t gotten very far when I all but heard the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions, his lips freezing in place.

He pushed me away at once, his face heavily disapproving.

“Be reasonable, Bella.”

“Edward, I –. “ He had cut me off, placing a single finger over my lips to quiet me.

“No.” His face was hard.

I was surprised by my reaction to his dismissal. I raised my hand to swat at his. My action didn’t move him, of course, but he moved his hand from my mouth in response. “You are not going to shush me,” I said sternly. “We’re here discussing terms of an eternity together – marriage and other promises – but sex?” I said the word louder than the rest. “Edward, why can’t we talk about sex?”

He was frozen there, hands at his side, eyes locked on mine. I felt the charge of adrenaline passing quicker than it had come. We sat there for a moment in silence with only my quick breathing and rapid pulse as audio. I shifted my gaze down as the rush subsided. It took me a minute to recognize why I was staring at my freckle again, the blush returning – why my stomach felt uneasy, why there was too much moisture in my eyes, why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.

Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong.

I knew it was irrational. He’d been very clear on other occasions that my safety was the only factor. Yet I’d never made myself quite so vulnerable before. It was hard to beg for the mercy of an angel.

Edward moved then, bringing his hand up to my chin to pull my face up until I had to look at him again. He scrutinized my face for a long moment while I tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his gaze. His brow furrowed, and his expression became horrified as I continued to fight off the onslaught of water in my eyes.

His other hand rushed to my cheek, his thumb stroking there reassuringly. “You know why I have to say no,” he murmured. “You know that I want you, too.”

“Do you?” I whispered, my voice full of accusation and doubt.

He held my face at my jaw now, his fingers on my neck at the base of my hair. “Of course I do, you beautiful, oversensitive girl.” He laughed once, and then his voice was bleak. “Doesn’t everyone? I feel like there’s a line behind me, jockeying for position, waiting for me to make a big enough mistake… You’re too desirable for your own good.”

It seemed like he wanted to press on, anxiety flooding him as it had me throughout the day. I took a breath.

“Tell me if I have anything wrong,” I tried to sound detached. “Your demands are marriage, college, more time, and a faster car.”

“Only the first is a demand,” he said taking a breath. “The others are merely requests.”

“And my lone, solitary demand is – “

“Demand?” he interrupted, on edge again.

“Yes, demand.” I said confidently, looping my fingers around his wrists and tugging until he dropped them. I was not going to concede, now that I knew he wanted this as badly as I did. I would have to be brave for the both of us. I kept my gaze locked on his, placing a hand on his chest to request more space between us.

Edward immediately responded, backing up slightly and resting on his knees with room in front of him. Without breaking the contact we had, I slid down so that we were both on our knees. I brought both hands to the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton slowly, never moving my eyes from his.

“Please,” I begged. “There is nothing I want more than you.”

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.

“I could kill you,” he whispered.

I had the last button undone then and slid the fabric from his shoulders to the floor. I was gliding my hands down his chest and placing my lips over his heart when I murmured against his skin. “I don’t think you could.”

As I kissed him there, a low sound escaped his lips. A moan? My body ached in a way it never had. I felt electrified. My heart jolted, words tumbling out of my mouth to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “Please, try,” I pleaded.

His hands were wrapped around my biceps then, his head bent down to bring his lips to my ear, making me shiver. “This is unbearable. So many things I’ve wanted to give you – and this is what you demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, refusing you when you plead with me this way?”

“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.

He didn’t respond. I tossed my head back to catch my breath, letting my hair fall down behind me. Edward’s hands still held my arms firmly. “Please,” I tried again.

He bent his head to my neck. “Bella…” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart sputtered frantically when his lips finally stopped to embrace my skin. The same low sound spilled from my lips now, which seemed to hit Edward with the same electrical shock.

His grip tensed instantly and I was sure he was going to push me away again.

I was wrong.

His lips were on mine, his hands pulling me up to close the space between us. His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. When his hands moved into my hair, I locked my arms around his neck, tightening my hold on him. To my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. So quickly that I wasn’t even sure how it happened, I was in his arms, his lips still exploring my skin, as we nearly flew through the house. Human velocity was not fast enough for him. We were in his bedroom then, still locked in each other’s arms as he fell onto his back on the bed.

The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now and my fingers traced the patterns I had dreamed of a thousand times. He was too beautiful. What was the word he had used? Unbearable – that was it. His beauty was too much to bear…

I was on top of him, our lips pulled together again and moving in heated sync. Edward’s hands were exploring my body. His hands were tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. All I wanted was my skin to be bare against his – his grip made it difficult to reach to remove my sweater, but not impossible. Just as I had my stomach exposed, cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.

His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Stop trying to take your clothes off.”

“Do you want to do that part?” I asked breathlessly.

“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.

“Edward, don’t –,” I started to argue, trying to free my hands and arching my body to mold myself more closely to him.

“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”

I had never felt frustration this way before. I was restless, eyes wild and questioning on his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he laughed. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am – clearly – much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore… you first.”

I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s the deal – take it or leave it. A compromise.” Edward pressed himself to me, urging me to accept his terms. His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive – it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head… and failed quickly and absolutely.

“How did this happen?” I moaned, and not in a good way. “I thought I was holding my own tonight – for once – and now, all of a sudden – “

“You’re engaged,” he finished.

“Edward, no.” I objected.

“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled back to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” I groaned. “No. I’m not. I just need time to think. I can’t think right now – give me some time to think.”

He kissed me again quickly. Another too persuasive kiss.

“Take all the time you need.”

He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed. “Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing my side, and I yours?”

“There isn’t much that’s traditional about you and me.”

Neither of us would surrender in this moment – that was clear. But there were compromises that were pending on the horizon. And, if nothing, I had this night to service my fantasies for awhile. I bit my lip and chuckled.

“I’m curious,” I sighed. “What exactly did you have planned for tonight?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he was up and out of the bed, a hand extended toward me.

I let out my last sigh of contest and threw my hands down on the bed to heave myself up. Edward laughed to himself as I slid to the edge of the bed and stood. I fidgeted in my sweater and straightened my skirt as I walked toward him. I took his hand and noticed him taking in my figure again.

I raised a brow. “Did you want to get back in bed?”

Edward chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, but please do remind me to thank Alice in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes as he led me from his bedroom and into the rest of our romantic evening alone.

PART TWO

____

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Twilight Saga world, which is trademarked by Stephenie Meyer and Little Brown Books. All characters referenced are owned by Stephenie Meyer, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the Twilight Saga. The story told here is of my own invention. This story is for entertainment only – fun – and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to Stephenie Meyer for the creation of these characters and I in no way am profiting from the creation and publication of this story. Some lines are directly quoted from Meyer’s book, Eclipse, and I do not claim to own Meyer’s words.

References:

Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. Little, Brown, 2013.

Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, and W. E. Williams. Tennyson: Poems. Penguin, 1985.

#edwardcullen #edwardandbella #valentinesday #twilight renaissance #twilightfanfic #twilightfanfiction #twilightsaga

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strangertheory · 4 years ago

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okay but can we talk about how 'weird' people say that byler's friendship is over or that mike hates will??? even after he went out in the rain just to apologize to will and the final scene of s3 w mike talking about will join another group?? even after ALL the times that mike demonstrated to care a lot about will?? friends fight (unless I don't see byler as friends), the fight was a good thing for their development, and in fact, I liked it, their development for me is better than many !!

Completely illogical.

Mike most definitely doesn’t hate Will. And Will absolutely doesn’t hate Mike. That’s not merely a shallow reading of their relationship and where they are at by the end of season 3, that’s an objectively incorrect reading of their relationship.

In season 2 Mike confessed to Will that asking him to be his friend was the best thing he’s ever done while crying and staring into Will’s eyes and hoping to help encourage Will to overpower the Mindflayer. (”You said yes! You said yes.”)

So. Putting aside the other potentially foreshadowing layers of that entire scene for a moment: there’s nothing casual about their friendship that can be casually ripped away by one awkward summer of hurt feelings and misunderstandings.

They first met when they were five. Nine years of going on D&D adventures, trading favorite comic books, biking to school together, telling stories in Castle Byers, going to the movies together, AV Club shenanigans, Science Fair competitions, Halloween costumes and trick-or-treating, and standing up to school bullies has a weight and importance that cannot be easily dismissed no matter how frustrating one summer of poor communication might get.

They have spent most of their lives as close friends supporting each other.

Anyone that has had a very long friendship knows what I’m talking about. I have a best friend that I’ve known for 21 years. I know not everyone is fortunate enough to have the opportunity for such a long friendship but please trust me when I say that I know how deep the roots of long-term friendship go and you’re not digging those roots up easily. Even the most unexpectedly vicious misunderstandings and fights won’t erase what you’ve shared together even if you wanted it to. And Mike and Will clearly do not want their fight to change things between them even if they haven’t taken the opportunity to discuss the feelings that were involved in that conflict quite yet.

In fact: because they were both still willing to be affectionate towards each other and reassure one another that everything is okay during the final episode of season 3 (in spite of those unresolved issues and misunderstandings!) I am even more convinced that they trust in the future of their relationship and are both equally committed to it.

In that final episode of season 3 they both demonstrate through their words and their body language that they have faith that things will work out even if they haven’t had the time to work through everything.

Many fans have discussed how intentionally subtextual and careful Mike and Will’s brief conversation in that final episode is, and I agree with them. Mike panics when he sees Will put his D&D manual into the donation box (”Woah, dude! That’s the donation box!”) and Mike is worried that Will no longer wants to play D&D because of their fight. Will reassures him that they can just use Mike’s copy of the manual when Will comes back. Mike cautiously asks “Yeah, but... what if you want to join another party?” and the implied question here is “Are you moving on from our Party, Will? Are you moving on from us? And... are you cutting ties with me?,” but Will replies “Not possible” and smiles, and Will sees Mike smile back warmly in relief.

And if that careful conversation reaffirming that things are okay wasn’t clear enough: Will happily skips away. You can hear Will’s feet skip along the floor. It’s audible. The post-production team chose to keep that sound (or added that foley!) of Will’s feet hitting the floor as he bounced away. You can see and hear how Will is giddy with happiness and relief after their conversation, and I think that’s adorable. It’s one of my favorite tiny details. In my opinion Will has every reason to still be angry and not want to forgive Mike for what he said but he’s clearly allowing his fondness for Mike to take precedent and he is ignoring that pain for now. He surely can’t ignore the wounds from that fight forever, but in this moment he clearly wants to. And that matters.

Their mutual affection towards each other is blatantly obvious at the end of season 3. Their friendship is still strong. (And maybe there’s... something more?)

If people really want to insist that Mike and Will’s friendship is over when all evidence points to the contrary then I suppose they can look forward to being disappointed in seasons 4 and 5. That’s not what’s going on here.

(Thanks for submitting this Ask!)

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johnconstantius · 4 years ago

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hi! i’m currently looking to write a mileven fic and i was wondering if you have any tips for how to correctly portray their soulmates dynamic without staying too far from their personalities?

This is a great question! And a tough one - a lot of times I write Mileven “instinctively” without consciously thinking about what I’m trying to do. That said, here are a few things I try to keep in mind as I'm writing “soulmates” Mileven. More after the break because this is a long one...

Mike. Mike has loved Eleven from the first moment he saw her (at least that's how Finn Wolfhard says he plays the character, and who am I to argue 😊). As a character, Mike can be high-strung, bossy, easily annoyed, and he yells a lot at his friends and his family. But IMO the key thing from a soulmates perspective is that he never acts this way toward El.

This is how I write him in my fiction and it's also true in canon. Mike yells at El a couple of times in the first half of season 1, but after they reunite at the quarry, he never yells at her again (he yells at everyone else, but never her). Even when she dumps him in season 3, he's nothing but patient and kind to her.

El is Mike's number one priority and he will happily risk his own life (and his friends' lives!) in order to help her - e.g. when he makes everyone go into the Mind Flayer's tunnels at the end of season 2. El is more important to him than any of his friends and he demonstrates this all the time, e.g. favoring her over Lucas in season 1, and favoring her over Dustin and Will in season 3.

I don't say all this to make Mike sound like a jerk. He's not - he's brave, a leader, and he looks out for his friends. Mike may have abandoned Dustin at the beginning of season 3 to go make out with El, but he also jumped into a quarry to save Dustin in season 1. Mike is complicated that way, as most people are.

So my tip for writing “soulmate” Mike is that (like all of us) he sometimes behaves in negative ways - but he never, ever behaves negatively toward El.

Eleven. El is madly in love with Mike (at least that's how Millie Bobby Brown says she plays the character, and who am I to argue 😊).

In canon, Mike is pretty much all that El thinks about and this is a major soulmate thing. She sacrifices her life for him (at least she believes so) at the end of season 1. In season 2 all she wants to do is see him again - she seems to have no real hobbies or interests other than watching TV and visiting him in the Void. Even their season 3 breakup is caused by... Mike not coming to see her and then lying about why.

Unlike Mike, El occasionally gets angry with her soulmate. She breaks up with him in season 3 and is still angry when he tries to reconcile with her during “the sauna test.” Despite that, Mike is El's shelter against a world she doesn't understand - the one person she can rely on. Whenever she's afraid or in trouble, it's Mike's name that she calls (she even does this in season 3 when they're technically still broken up). The funny thing is that El is the one with superpowers while Mike is pretty unimpressive in a fight - but El still sees Mike as her protector and emotional center.

So my tip for El is that she's naive, confused, and under a lot of stress both from the Upside Down and adapting to a world she doesn't understand. Mike is the only thing that makes all this bearable for her and she couldn’t live without him (and wouldn’t want to).

I hope this helps. Ultimately I think ST the show is telling a Mileven soulmates story, so perhaps all you really need to do is watch canon and take the pieces of it that speak to you the most.

If this didn’t answer your question, ask me once more and I’ll try again 😊.

Thanks for the ask, it was wonderful to answer! Good luck with your fic and I’m really looking forward to reading it!

#Mileven soulmates #mileven #stranger things #mike wheeler #eleven #writing tips #fanfic #ask me anything #answered #anonymous

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago

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Best That You Can Do Chapter 4: While Mike Was Dead

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Read it on AO3

William Dodds is destroyed by the death of his son. His devastation is so comlete that he finds himself leaning on Ingrid, of all people. When he picks her and Matthew up from the airport, he immediately clings to her as if his very sanity depends on it. As Mike’s mother, she alone has any hope of even approaching an understanding of the depth of William’s pain. She ends up sitting him down to one side of the baggage claim area and holding him while he completely dissolves in her arms. She motions for Matthew to get their bags, seeing Matthew’s embarrassment and knowing that William wouldn’t want to be this undone in front of their other son. Their only son, now.

The funeral is the single most agonizing moment of William Dodds’s life. He tries not to feel. He tries to simply shut himself down so that he can hold it together in front of the gathered brass and officers, but it costs him dearly. He ages ten years in the span of one unimaginably painful day. When it’s over, he goes home, gets as drunk as humanly possible, and sleeps for two days straight.

************

Kaitlyn is alone with her pain. She and Eleanor can share their sadness, but only Kaitlyn knows what she’s lost. What she’s thrown away. She has no right to grieve, but tell that to her heart. The only thing worse than her grief is her aching, crushing guilt. She could have made his last days happy. Instead, she’d… She can’t even get close to thinking about that yet.

She goes to his funeral. Of course she does; she’s Mike’s father’s right-hand man, and she’s expected to support the Chief in his time of loss. What she can’t do is acknowledge that it’s her loss, too. To anyone. Because she doesn’t deserve to. The sea of uniforms, the somber beauty of the honors done a fallen officer, would have hurt her soul anyway. But standing there, pretending to be a casual acquaintance, reeling with emotions she can’t begin to understand, she feels as though she’s polluting the ceremony. She feels as though she killed Mike herself.

Afterward, she feels duty bound to say some word of comfort to Mike’s squad and his Lieutenant. She’d rather be tossed naked into a live volcano, but she does it anyway. For Mike.

“Lieutenant Benson, I’m Kaitlyn Myers, from Chief Dodds’s staff-“

“Of course. We’ve met. I remember.”

“I just wanted to give you my condolences. I’m very sorry for your loss. And your squad’s.”

“Thank you. It’s a loss for the whole Department. He’s irreplaceable.” Olivia Benson isn’t crying, but she isn’t not crying, either. Kaitlyn is glad for Mike that he has good people, who treated him well, to shed honest tears for him.

“Yes, he is. He’s fortunate to have a Lieutenant who recognizes his worth.”

Lieutenant Benson swallows hard and nods.

“Kaitlyn, I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Sonny Carisi,” says the officer next to Benson, reaching out a hand for Kaitlyn to shake and pulling her a bit to the side.

“I remember,” she says. Carisi’s not a man you forget. “Mike talked about you. You were close. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Sonny leans down a little and steps forward so that he can speak too quietly for anyone else to hear. “We talked about you, too. He really liked you.”

Kaitlyn feels gut-punched. She can’t know it, but she looks gut-punched, too, which makes Sonny immediately regret saying anything.

“I didn’t make that very easy,” she whispers. She’s biting the inside of her mouth to keep from crying.

Sonny pulls her further away from the knot of people around the squad. “C’mon. You can’t blame yourself for that. He, uh, told us what happened. What the problem was.”

“The whole squad?” Kaitlyn squeaks.

“No, no, just me and my husband. In confidence. He was just lookin’ for some advice how to make things work with you.”

“Shit…” Kaitlyn wipes tears, and Sonny hands her a tissue. His kindness makes her cry harder.

“Listen to me. If you’re beating yourself up because you think you made him unhappy just before… Don’t. You couldn’t know. And you need what you need. Besides, he might have been miserable, but he wasn’t unhappy. If you know what I mean. We all enjoy a little romantic challenge.”

Carisi’s slight grin, and the muted glint in his eye, make Kaitlyn think his husband is a very lucky man. She also thinks he’s about the nicest guy she’s ever met for saying these things, untrue as they are.

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Sonny.”

“Coming with us to the wake? I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No. Thank you, but I don’t feel like I even belong here. I certainly don’t belong there.”

“The hell you don’t. Come.”

Kaitlyn shakes her head sadly. “I can’t. But thank you. Thank you for everything. And again, I’m truly sorry you lost a friend.”

“So did you. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

There’s a wet spot from Kaitlyn’s tears on Sonny’s lapel after he hugs her. Not a perfunctory hug, either. He gives her a tight, full-contact, several second hug that says more than his words ever could that he doesn’t blame her for the things she did to Mike. No wonder Mike was close to this guy.

She turns to go, and finds herself face to face with a good-looking, dark-haired man standing right behind her. She stammers an apology and moves to go around him.

“This is Kaitlyn, Rafael. Make her come to the wake.”

As Kaitlyn turns to look at Sonny, he nods to her and steps back into the impromptu receiving line that’s formed around the SVU squad. She turns back to the man he’s just called Rafael. “I, uh…”

“The squad is riding together in a limo. I’ll take you in my car,” he says. He has a bedroom voice and there’s a deep kindness in his eyes. Something clicks and Kaitlyn realizes this must be ADA Rafael Barba, Sonny Carisi’s husband.

“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I really can’t.”

Kaitlyn starts to mumble some garbled nonsense about having to get going, but it slows down and sputters out as Rafael simply looks at her with a vaguely amused smirk.

“What?” She finally asks.

“Ms. Myers, Detective Carisi just asked me to bring you to the wake. Which means you’re coming if I have to put you in the trunk.”

Kaitlyn blinks for a few seconds. She can’t help but smile a little at that. “His wish is your command?”

“Something like that.”

**************

Chief Dodds wakes up on the morning of the third day after his son’s funeral, puts on his suit, and goes to work. He tells himself that, although he’s broken now, he still has to do the job. People are depending on him.

It’s his anger that gets him moving. Somewhere in the fog of the last two days, he’s cried himself out. Not that he won’t still cry over losing Mike – he will – but he’s sobbed out the first, overflowing shocked sadness. Now comes the long, draining melancholy. But another emotion has bloomed inside him as he slept. Rage. He’s mad at the entire world. He hates that they’re all just getting on with things, as if the gaping hole Mike’s left in the world doesn’t make everything else completely fucking useless and meaningless.

When he gets to the office, the first thing he sees is the pity on Eleanor’s face. He practically snarls at her to knock it the hell off.

“We’re not gonna be sitting around here like it’s a morgue. We still have a job to do. Pull yourself together.”

She actually physically flinches, and the only thing he feels is a tiny twinge of satisfaction. He wants to hurt people. He wants to break things and howl in anguish and tear the planet apart. And when he gets to his office and sees Kaitlyn there, doing some damn pointless thing with files full of worthless bullshit, he sees red. Look at her, fucking bustling around like he didn’t just bury his son. Like she didn’t spend the last weeks of Mike’s life slapping him across the face and stomping his heart.

“Get out,” Dodds spits. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t hesitate a second. He’s not even all the way in his office yet when he starts firing at her like he’s a belt-fed automatic weapon.

She turns around and looks stunned. “I-“

“Get out. Get your things and get out. I never want to see your face again. I can’t fire you, although you better believe that’s what I’d do if I could. But you’re out of here as of now and you’re on administrative leave until I can find a place to stuff you.”

“Sir-“

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’ll tell you who. You’re no one! You’re nothing! You’re a fucking ice queen, a conceited bitch who was never anywhere near good enough for my son, yet you thought you had the right to - Why are you just standing there? Get your lousy ass out of my office!”

“Sir, I-“

“Get OUT!” Dodds screams, and gets another little zing of terrible satisfaction at the fear on her face. An evil, bloody part of him enjoys the way she scurries out of his office like a kicked dog. He’s crying again, but it’s only a few hot, furious tears that are quickly dried. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how deeply he abhors that woman. He makes a note to ensure she gets transferred to the worst posting he can find. One where her career will wither on the vine and she’ll never be heard from again, the cold-hearted cunt.

************

Six Months Later:

Kaitlyn’s standing behind her supervisor, watching her demonstrate yet another bloated, redundant process she insists Kaitlyn follow. It seems like she senses Chief Dodds just before he enters the huge room, his meticulously-coiffed head visible above the walls of a field of cubicles. She tries to hide. She bends her head down and leans in, quickly thinking of questions to ask that will let her stay concealed behind the walls of her supervisor’s cube until he’s gone.

Except that he’s there for her. She hasn’t seen or spoken to him since the day he fired her – technically, it was a transfer, but they both know what it was – and when she learns he’s there for her, she’s terrified. She’s still raw and bleeding from the things he said to her that day. Mostly that’s because she was already saying those things to herself and she hasn’t stopped since. It’s been a rough six months since Mike died.

What’s weird is that, when they get into the conference room he’s commandeered, there are tears in his eyes as he kindly asks her to sit down. It’s a very small conference room, with a little round table and four chairs, and no room for anything else. Kaitlyn starts to shake. She has absolutely no idea what’s coming, but she knows in her bones she’s about to get knocked down again. She sighs. She deserves it. She actually hopes it gives the Chief a little bit of comfort. She’s always cared about him, and she’s never held what he did against him. She’d have done the same thing. Maybe she wouldn’t have come back half a year later to kick her some more, but whatever he needs. She’s not going to fight it. It’s no more than she deserves.

“Kaitlyn, I – would you like some coffee? Let’s have some coffee. That might make this easier.” The Chief opens the door to the conference room and stops the first person he sees. He tells them to bring two cups of coffee as though they’re all there to cater to him, with no more pressing work. Kaitlin feels a little glow, like long-banked coals being blown into life. He hasn’t changed.

He takes a few awkward steps around, like he’s got a ton of impounded energy and it’s hard for him to be still. He does a weird head-shake, then reaches out and takes the back of a chair to pull it out. He sits, and he looks directly into Kaitlyn’s face. She tries to face him as bravely as she can.

“How have you been?” His tone is kind again, like he hopes she’s been enjoying the Siberia to which he sentenced her.

“Fine, Sir. Thank you for asking. How are you?”

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “No, Kait. I’m really asking. Have you been OK here? It hasn’t been so bad?”

“It’s fine, Sir. What we do is important. Somebody has to be able to find these files when they’re needed for an appeal. We’re keeping criminals behind bars, where they belong.” She straightens her shoulders and sits up a little. She hates it here, and she knows he knows that. It’s why he sent her here. But she’s still going to do the best job she can, and she still cares enough about his opinion of her that she wants him to know that.

“Yeah,” he says, almost to himself. “I deserved that.”

“Sir?”

The woman he stopped knocks softly with her elbow on the glass of the conference room door. The Chief gets up and lets her in. She sets the cups of black coffee down on the table and leaves as quickly as she can. Chief Dodds and Kaitlyn both take a sip of the semi-hot coffee.

“That’s terrible,” he says, actually smiling at her. “Just the way I like it.”

Huh. That’s confusing. He’s making a little joke they used to make to each other about the ubiquitous, consistently awful coffee in the NYPD.

He must see her confusion, because he sets down his cup and leans in. “Kaitlyn, I have a lot to say to you. But it all has to start with an apology. I was lost when Mike died. I felt like there was nothing good or meaningful in the world. And I was so damn angry. Angry at Munson, angry at fate, or God, or whatever. Even angry at Mike for trying to be a hero, as if that wasn’t just who he was. Who I raised him to be. And I took that out on you. I’m sorry, Kaitlyn. I lashed out at you because you were there. You were convenient. I fucked up, and I hurt you because I was hurting so bad myself. And I am very, very sorry.”

Kaitlyn sits, stunned, feeling the warmth as she cradles the paper coffee cup and just looks at the Chief. Her mind is an absolute blank. “You lost your son, Sir. You’re entitled.”

He smiles at that and looks down at the table. “Do you know, I actually predicted that you would say that? You probably even believe it, which I don’t deserve.”

“Let’s not talk about ‘deserve’, Sir. I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want what I deserve.” All of Kaitlyn’s bitter guilt comes out in those words. Dodds’s head snaps up.

“No, Kaitlyn.”

“Sir?”

“That’s why I’m here. To right a wrong. I said… Well, we both remember what I said. But I was wrong, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. And I sent you here, to the ass end of the Department, and that was wrong. Because you didn’t deserve it.” He gives her a meaningful look as he emphasizes the word, and holds up a hand when she starts to protest. “Don’t argue with me. I know what was going on with you and Mike. He told me. And I understand. Even if I didn’t know your father, which I do, I’d still say you didn’t deserve what I did. Who am I to tell you not to protect yourself? Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge. I’m here to get you out of here.”

Kaitlyn’s mind again blanks. She treats the Chief to a look of almost comical confusion.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve paid for my stupidity. The office is a wreck. Well, that’s not quite accurate. I’ve got a hell of a good staff, and they’re keeping it going. It’s me. I’m the wreck. I can’t function without you. I need you back. And what’s more, I want you back. It’s done, all I have to do is say the word, but… I’m not going to order you back. In fact, I’m offering to do whatever I can to get you placed wherever you want to go. I mean it when I say I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up to you as best I can. But I’m really, really hoping you’ll forgive the stupid mistakes of a grief-stricken old man and come back to my office. Please.”

Kaitlyn is actually a little concerned that she might have become paralyzed somehow. She’s entirely unable to move or speak. The problem is that her ability to think has returned with a vengeance. Now she’s thinking so many things, so fast, that she can’t catch any of her thoughts for long enough to try to follow one from beginning to end. Her expression changes like a kaleidoscope as she wrestles to focus.

“You need time. I should’ve expected that. You can have it. Of course. I’ll give you as long as you need. You just-“

“Yes.”

“-call me when you’ve made…” It takes a second for what she’s said to register. “Yes?”

“Yes. If you mean it. Yes.”

“I do. I mean it. I’ll take you with me today. Now. Just get your things-“

“You can’t just tear me out of my chair, Sir. I’m in the middle of some things. Sergeant Cox would be really inconvenienced.”

“And you care about that?”

“Not in the least,” Kaitlyn hears herself say, a tiny grin beginning to twist her lips as she begins to dare to believe the Chief. “But I care about the rest of the team. Can you give me until the end of the week?”

“Of course. Of course. And if you want to take some time off in between, that’s-“

“No, Sir. I don’t want to give you time to change your mind.”

He smiles at that. “I’m not going to change my mind, Kait. I meant every word I said. And, by the way, you’re getting a raise. ‘Words are cheap, show me the money,’ right? Heard you say that a million times. So I am.”

He stands as he says that, so she hesitantly follows. She isn’t prepared for him to bear-hug her, and doesn’t plan to burst into tears, but that’s what happens. When he speaks, she realizes he’s crying, too.

“Kait, I’m so sorry. I screwed up. But I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

“You didn’t screw up. You did what you had to do at the time. Just, please, be serious about this.”

“I would never play you like that, Kait. I’m completely serious. First thing Monday, you’ll be back in the office and then everything will be all right again.”

Not everything, Kaitlyn thinks, but as long as she really gets to go back where she belongs, at least things will be better.

“Will you do me one tiny favor?” Kaitlyn dares to ask.

“Anything. Name it.”

“Can I be the one to tell Sergeant Cox?”

“I don’t think I like that evil gleam in your eye, Kaitlyn.” Chief Dodds gives an actual belly laugh, and Kaitlyn’s whole world gets brighter in that moment.

“Neither will Sergeant Cox. It’s been a long six months.”

“God help her. Go ahead.”

****************

Five Months Later:

Things still aren’t quite right in the Chief’s office. Kaitlyn thinks her replacement might have been a reflection of the Chief’s grief, because for the life of her she can’t see why he’d thought the guy was qualified. That might be sour grapes, of course, because the guy completely reorganized the computer filing system and Kaitlyn spent her first months back in the office fixing his “improvements” so that they can find things again. Kaitlyn secretly has little sympathy for the other members of the Chief’s staff, since they’d let the guy do it. But she keeps that to herself.

She’s happy. She always loved this job, but now she knows how lucky she really is. And things have changed subtly between her and the Chief. He’s finally stopped apologizing to her every five minutes and going out of his way to do things for her; they’re back to their comfortable rhythm and she’s back to doing things for him, which is her actual job, after all. But now that they’re back to normal, it’s clear that they have a deep, real relationship that goes beyond their work relationship. It’s nice. It feels more like father and daughter than employer and employee. And why wouldn’t it? He’s lost the only child he got to raise. He’s got love to give, and no one to give it to now that Mike’s dead. That thought makes Kaitlyn sad for Chief Dodds. She’s stopped trying to deny how sad she is for herself. Still.

She hasn’t even looked at another man since Mike died. He wasn’t even hers, she’d made sure of that, but she knows now what she missed. She also knows what a complete, unmitigated idiot she was. Susan Eisenberg’s been all over the tabloids with the lead singer of a rock band. Or ex-lead singer, because she’s managed to alienate the band members from him, and the news is all about how the band broke up because of her possessiveness. Kaitlyn hopes Mike can look down from Heaven and have a nice, smug “I told you so”.

The thing is, she keeps comparing every guy she meets to Mike. She’s well aware that she’s probably making him perfect in her memory, remembering him as much taller, sexier, better-looking and more fun than he really was. But she can’t help it. Maybe because she works with his father every day, Kaitlyn’s having a hard time getting over Mike. If she’s honest, she’s having a hard time wanting to get over Mike.

It’s late on a Tuesday afternoon when the Chief appears in Kaitlyn’s office doorway. She’s never seen the look he has on his face, and she’s instantly concerned about him. When he speaks, though, he’s trying to keep from smiling. And he’s failing. He reminds Kaitlyn of a man who’s just learned he’s about to be a father.

“Listen, I’d like you to knock off early, if you would. There’s something I need you to do for me, and I need you to come over to the apartment.”

“Sure,” she agrees. That’s not such an unusual request, so it’s clearly not what’s making the Chief look so weird. “Now?”

“Now.”

“What am I gonna need?”

“Uh,” the Chief really does look strange, and at this moment he appears to be struggling to wrap his brain around the very routine question. “Your tablet, I guess. Nothing else.”

“You’re the boss.”

They engage in small talk as a driver takes them to Chief Dodds’s apartment. Kaitlyn loves it there. It’s huge by New York City standards, and the Chief has either excellent taste or a very talented decorator. As soon as they walk in, she’s enveloped by the quiet, and the sense of comfortable luxury. It’s maybe a little masculine for her, but it’s beautiful. She knows he has a little bit of family money, and she thinks some of it must have gone toward this place. She’d have done the same.

She’s surprised when he offers her a glass of wine. When she’d first come to work for the Chief, he had offered her drinks, but apologized for not being able to offer her anything alcoholic. He said it was skirting professionalism to work in his apartment anyway, and he made it a rule never to drink in that situation. She agreed completely. But here he was, offering her wine.

“Don’t we have a no-drinking rule?”

The Chief takes a deep breath and begins to uncork the bottle, despite what she’s just said. Vague alarm bells begin to sound. He’s not going to make a pass at her. She knows that for a fact. But something’s going on, and he thinks she needs to have a drink on board to deal with it. Shit.

“We do. But I have some news, and it’s… I hope you’ll trust me on this. I think you’ll need it.”

“OK, now you’re scaring me.”

“It’s actually good news. But it’s not gonna feel that way at first. It’s not gonna feel bad-“ he hastens to add as he sees her tense up, even from across the room. “It’s just gonna be a lot. And confusing, and you’ll probably be pissed, and…” He stops what he’s doing and looks hard at her. “Just trust me.”

“I think I need a drink already, just from the preamble. Just give me the news quickly. Please? I don’t like surprises. You know that.”

“I do. I absolutely do, and I’m sorry. This is gonna be a big one.”

“Chief. Stop. I’m in full-on freak out now. Just tell me.”

He’s holding two very full glasses of red wine as he crosses the room. He hands her one and sits on a chair at an angle to the one she’s sitting in.

“L’chaim,” he says, unknowingly reminding her painfully of the day she’d met Mike and they’d shared that toast over glasses of Dalmore.

“L’chaim,” she echoes, and softly clinks his proffered glass. “Now tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“When that’s half gone,” he says, pointing to her drink.

“Chief-“

“Just trust me.”

“Fuck.” She takes a healthy slug, which is an insult to the excellent Nebbiolo he’s given her. She very rarely drops F-bombs in front of the Chief, and she hopes it lets him know she’s hating every second of this.

He talks a little bit about Mike then, which distracts her a little. They rarely talk about him. Even though they’ve forgiven each other, Mike is still a minefield of a subject between them. It’s a story about Mike as a small boy, and it’s adorable. The Chief’s smiling fondly. It’s nice to see him be able to talk about Mike without the haunted, tortured look he used to have. By the time he’s done with that story, and another about the time Mike worked in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen for a while after returning from the Army, they’re halfway through their glasses of wine. It’s time. Kaitlyn holds her glass up and wiggles it a little.

“Yeah. All right.” The Chief says, squaring his shoulders, then leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He’s not looking at Kaitlyn. He’s not even really looking at the floor where his eyes are aimed.

“Mike planned to transfer to the Joint Terrorism Task Force at some point. He wanted to be part of the fight to protect the country.”

“You told me that.”

“He didn’t get the chance to do that, exactly.”

“Exactly? Is your news something about Mike?”

Dodds doesn’t answer, just goes on with what he’s saying. “He didn’t get the chance to go to JTTF because Homeland Security came and got him first. They saw their chance and they took it.”

“When was this? You never told me about this.”

“I never told you because it was eleven months ago.”

Kaitlyn blinks and squints, shaking her head to convey that she doesn’t understand.

“Eleven months ago, Kaitlyn. When they told us he died.”

The bottom dropping out of Kaitlyn’s stomach is extremely unpleasant, but not as bad as the hot lightning that begins to burn at her skin. She feels what he was telling her before she thinks it. “When they told us he died…”

“It wasn’t true. He was taken to Bethesda to finish recovering from his gunshot. There was no stroke. But they let us think there was. They let me think there was. And his mother, and his brother…”

Ooh. Clearly, the Chief has some feelings about that. That’s going to be interesting to Kaitlyn when she can get her mind to quit flipping around like an old VHS tape with tracking problems.

“Six months ago, some little douchebag from the State Department came to see me. He told me that my son was alive. He apologized for the pain they’d caused, and had the balls to thank me for my ‘sacrifice’, like I’d been given any fucking choice. He explained that everyone had to grieve normally. It was part of Mike’s ‘legend’, the cover story so no one would identify him. The little prick used enough damned spy buzzwords to choke a horse.”

“Holy… Chief…” Kaitlyn is now three-quarters of the way through her wine, and planning to ask for more.

“Yeah. The only good thing, the only good thing about that meeting was that the little State Department fuck had some kind of secure phone with him, and I got to talk to Mike. Or rather, Mike talked. I cried.”

“Of course you did. Shit,” Kaitlyn whispers.

For a minute, Chief Dodds doesn’t say anything. He watches Kaitlyn try to begin to process the information he’s just given her, and when she drinks the last of her wine, silently goes to the kitchen and refills their glasses. He hands hers, as full as before, to her with an open look on his face. Kaitlyn takes it and slumps against the back of her chair. She drinks for a few more silent moments.

“They let you believe your son was dead. For six months. They let you bury him. Mourn him. Our government did that to you. On purpose.”

“Yeah, but at least they thanked me for my sacrifice,” he spits bitterly. “Apparently, the feds aren’t really big on worrying about individuals. They’re more big picture kind of people. That’s another bit of wisdom I got from the State Department guy.”

“Fuck.”

“But you’re missing the point. Kaitlyn. Mike is alive.”

She looks into his eyes. She has absolutely no idea how to even begin to deal with any of this, except for one thing. The only thing that matters. “Where is he?”

“Here. Not in this apartment, but here in New York.”

“I want to see him.” Suddenly, that is all Kaitlyn wants.

That makes the Chief smile. “He wants to see you.”

She actually sets her glass down on a side table and stands. “Let’s go.”

He laughs quietly. “Finish your drink. I learned that there are guidelines for how to do this. You need some time to ‘process’. Time to ‘adjust’. That’s a quote. There’s a fucking manual for this shit, if you can believe that.”

“Sir, I want to see Mike. I want to see him now.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And you will. Just not tonight.”

#Law & Order SVU #law & order: special victims unit #mike dodds #andy karl #detective sonny carisi #rafael barba #Peter Scanavino #Raul Esparza #mike dodds is alive and well #Sonny's a good bro

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poetfades2black · 5 years ago

Text

Unraveled

Author: Poetfades2black

Notes: This story will reference a lot of the episodes and feature dialogue directly from them. There will be a lot of sex as well so I would rate this as Mature.

Thanks to @untapdtreasure and @sunshyne2014 for beta

Disclaimer: I don’t own them.

CHAPTER ONE:

Goren and Eames had given up on finding love. They had resigned to live solitary lives. They weren’t supposed to fall in love. The rules strictly forbade it and as professionals they kept relatively professional and friendly boundaries. They worked well together and had a mutual respect for one another that neither wanted to jeopardize. Yet, there was this whole unspoken vibe between them that started to push them in an entirely different direction. But that’s the thing about love, when you finally give up on it, it surprises you. It surprised them. Then, through the worst times of their lives, they found their way to each other and held on for dear life.

The first time they had sex, he recalled, Eames had totally caught him off guard. He broke into a big grin as he though all the way back to the first time they had crossed their personal and professional boundaries. Sex was the furthest thought he could ever imagine becoming reality. Sure, he thought of it and even had dreams of them having sex but thinking and doing were far apart in his mind.

That day, they met some colleagues after a long day at work. Their case came with a lot of paperwork attached and, of course, he was behind on his previous paperwork so they were working most of the day tackling that. He remembered her chiding him, “Bobby, really look at all this paperwork. How did you get so behind?”

“It’s simple. I just don’t like doing paperwork. Research is fine but having to put every single detail into these reports,” he shuddered and blew air out of his mouth, “it’s mind-numbing.”

“Well, I don’t particularly get a thrill from paperwork either, but I manage to get mine done on time.” She started moving things around his desk. “Seriously, Goren, how do you keep all these notes straight and don’t get me started on making sense of what you wrote down. This sheet just has random numbers and letters. I feel like I need a cipher just to make heads or tails of this.”

“Well you do sort of, not a cipher exactly, but I do write in a code of sorts.”

“Goren, who do you actually think is going to read this?”

“Well it’s not for others. It’s for me. It makes it faster for me to write them.”

“And you understand it?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course you do.” She rolled her eyes, “Okay, well, the Captain isn’t letting us go until this is turned in and guess who has to supervise to make sure it gets done?

“Sorry, Eames.”

“Oh you’re gonna make it up to me. We are totally going out for drinks, and you’re paying for mine.” She glanced around “Mike, Carolyn, are you good for drinks after?” With a nod from them, she turned to Goren “Okay now that it’s settled, let’s get you finished with this. Let me know what notes you need and get to writing.”

Inside bar

After they finished, Eames changed into a spare dress that she had in her locker. She needed to shed her work clothes to feel refreshed and sometimes it allowed her to take herself out of work mode and let her enjoy herself. The four of them filed into a booth of a nearby bar. They were talking about the funniest moments from their cases or talking about some dumb rules that got implemented. They were enjoying themselves and off the bat, Eames observed two things. One, this guy wouldn’t stop staring at her, and he appeared to be on a date. She shook her head, figures. The other was Goren was sitting pretty close to her, and he was definitely eyeing her up. Hmm, I must look really good today. She caught him staring at her breasts a couple times and one time staring at her butt as she got out of the booth. She figured it was a typical guy behavior and thought nothing more of it, but he would tell stories and touch her arm, or he would laugh and catch her eye. She noted, He looks really good when he laughs and decided well if he was interested she would have some fun and play along.

Eames told a story that on its face was innocent and simply a recall from her vice days, but because she knew she had his attention, she played up the details of her ridiculous outfits and unbelievable John asks. She knew it would get some laughs and also get him to focus more on her. He would occasionally ask, “Do you even know how to do that?” Or what a term meant, and she would explain and sometimes comically demonstrating with table items. She leaned against him, their sides touching in their booth as they sit side by side, she shifted her legs to accidentally graze his and watched his expression change. Logan and Barek had next in the distribution of cases so they called it a night, but Eames was having too much fun messing with Goren and stirring reactions from him so she caught his eye “I could stay and have a couple more drinks. Besides you’re still on the hook for my drinks. I hope you didn’t think I was going to let you off the hook that easily.” They made their way out of the booth and said their goodbyes to Logan and Barek. She felt so strong and in control. The way Goren was staring at her with his intense eyes and confident smile made her feel like a woman. She leaned into her femininity.

“C’mon let’s go to the bar,” Eames stated while she got up and motioned him to follow. Goren fixed on her as she walked away. He trailed behind her. Goren relaxed in his seat taking up a bit of space around him legs and arms stretched claiming the area around them. After a bit of joking, laughing, and talking, a guy approached and wedged himself in the small space between Eames and Goren.

“Excuse me but you look great tonight. Can I get you another of what you are having?”

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation here? I’m not interested, buddy.” The guy gave her a look of astonishment like he couldn’t believe she was blowing him off.

“Whatever. I was just trying to do you a solid. I thought you may want someone who could show you a better time. Obviously, you’re not worth mine.” Goren began to get up to confront the guy but Eames pushed him back in his stool. He was furious. Eames had every intention of capitalizing on this moment. There was a buzzing energy so thick she could feel it vibrating between them. They were dancing around their attraction to each other.

“Let’s not let that moron spoil the night” she said as she slowly ran her hand up his thigh and finished with a light squeeze. He was thrown off by her gesture and almost knocked over his drink. He then immediately started trying to work through it in his head is she really flirting with me or is this for that guy’s benefit? For the first time, it was difficult to get a read on her. Her touch sent him into overdrive, and he was definitely focused on staying calm and keeping a certain thing at bay. Goren began thinking and evaluating. She had some drinks, but she wasn’t drunk. He’d gone out with her and fellow cops to know when she was getting tipsy or drunk and she may be bordering on tipsy but she wasn’t near drunk.

“Um,” he starts while licking his suddenly dry lips, “but Eames he can’t just have the nerve to say and do that and walk away unscathed .

“Do I looked bothered?”

“No, actually, you don’t.”

“Let me tell you why I am not bothered.” She exclaimed a little too happily, leaning in and gesticulating widely. “He was staring at me the whole time he was on a date and didn’t come to approach me until after she left. He didn’t care that I was talking to a guy who could have very well been my date for the evening. And the top reason I’m not shedding any tears for that slime ball, was the tan line where his wedding ring is supposed to be when he put his hands on mine. So now that we established further that only losers seem to be attracted to me, let’s get back to where we were.”

As she made that statement she thought, Well I guess occasionally, an actual good guy comes to his senses every now and then.

“And exactly, where was that?” He questioned arching an eyebrow, feeling a little nervous and excited inside but masking it with assurance.

“Well, we were talking and enjoying each other’s company.”

“Uh huh,” He was mesmerized at the slow way she spoke and seductive way she was interacting with him.

“You know after a long day of the backed up paperwork, which I still blame you for,” Goren squinted and gestured as if taking responsibility, “you owe me a good conversation and more drinks to make up for it.” She playfully ran her hand up his arm to focus catch his eye.

They both laughed and then Goren spoke, “Okay, I’m impressed, not shocked that you picked all that up in the short time we were talking.”

“After dating a series of losers, let’s just say that I’ve developed a radar, so to speak. Besides, you would have too if you weren’t so distracted.”

He got a little nervous. Had she noticed me staring or focused on her tonight? He couldn’t help but notice how playful Eames was all night. She is so happy and gorgeous. I’d make a fool of myself, if it gets me that smile. He always thought she was attractive. She was a great looking woman and had the gall to back it up; but usually, he was able to put up a wall because partners are off limits, and he wanted to demonstrate his respect for her. However, tonight, he was sure she was sending him signals that maybe she was attracted to him too.

She kept leaning forward, touching his arm. He was only grateful she hadn’t done that move with her hands on his thigh when their colleagues were around because he’s not sure how he would have reacted which brought him back to maybe she waited on purpose. That would mean that she was flirting with him, but why and how much further would he allow it to go before he said something?

“I’m not distracted.” He wrung his hands and looked down briefly before looking back up.

Got you. You are so busted. “You are totally distracted, but the question is, is the reason you are distracted the reason I think you are?”

I was busted. She definitely knew I was checking her out. “And what reason would that be?”

“Not so fast, that’s for me to know and me to find out,” she said as she took a long sip of her drink. She was being confident but some liquid courage couldn’t hurt. Now, he was trying to figure out if she was really into him or just acting interested enough to get him to admit he was into her. He couldn’t help but play along. He wanted to get a read on her because that’s what he does right, read people? He figured some harmless flirting between them wasn’t the worst thing because it wasn’t like either one of them was actually going to act on it. They couldn’t.

“So you’re not gonna tell me your little theory? Well then, how will you know if you’re right?” He nibbled at his bottom lip and cocked his head to the side just a little. Well, if she wanted to play chicken, he had no trouble egging her on.

“So, you admit that you are distracted, and I’ll just know.”

“Not even a hint?” He laughed, and she leaned in again pointing her finger to his chest.

“Surely one of New York’s smartest detectives doesn’t need a hint to solve his cases, does he? I’m sure you will figure it out, eventually.”

“Fine. I’ll play but how do you want to do this? How many guesses are you going to give me?”

“Hmm..I’ll make it easy on you since you sound like you need some help. I’ll give you three guesses to guess my theory or make me believe the reason you are distracted.“

“Three, okay.” He shifted in his chair and stretched his hands out gesticulating. “You know that darn paperwork.” He said with a laugh playfully sliding his tongue between his teeth then forcing a serious face before saying, “It was unbelievably frustrating and now I’m thinking that I may have made a mistake on one of the forms. It’s been driving me a bit crazy.”

She licked her lips. Okay, Bobby if that’s how you are gonna play it. She fingered around the bottom of the glass of her drink which was now empty. “You worried about paperwork? No, that doesn’t sound like you. If you made a mistake with the case and it bothered you, that would be more believable.” She laughed and flicked her hair back. “Are you even trying?” He had a big smile on his face, then he gestured to the bartender for a refill on both of their drinks. She fingered the salt on the rim and slowly sucked it off her finger before taking a sip of her drink. He sucked in a breath as his eyes traced her actions. In his mind it played on repeat in slow motion. She’s got me right where she wants and she knows it.

“Okay you got me. You remember that case we had with the sex club and the little black book of names. When you were telling your stories from back in vice, I was just wondering if many of these girls kept records. Could you imagine the blackmail opportunities and not to mention they may have lists of what you asked for or how long you lasted. Talk about embarrassing for some of these guys.”

“Well if there was a record out there, serves them right and what has you thinking of the johns? Don’t tell me, you Robert Goren visited a prostitute.” She imitated mocked horror.

“Uh no” He smiled sheepishly. “My dad definitely did and it would serve him right if some record existed but I don’t think there would be much of interest for a guy like him.”

“Was that really what you were thinking about? The thing that has you so distracted tonight?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. You tell me,” he nodded his head towards her almost as if to say the ball’s in your court.

“Well it seems plausible. However, you were distracted way before I started my stories.”

“And you know that for a fact?”

“mmhmm,” she just purred from her lips. He stared at her for a minute waiting to see if she would go into more detail about why she knew for a fact he was distracted much earlier but she didn’t. Okay, so you are really going to make me say it. When, in fact, I think you need to do some sharing of your own, Eames. You have been all over me and have been sending me signals all night. But, if you are gonna play coy. I may just have to bite this bullet of ours.

“Well maybe that is what I was thinking.” he shifted and shook his head “Or maybe not.” He tried once more to give her an opening. “What is your evidence that I was distracted earlier?”

“Not a chance and give away my little theory. No, you are going to have to guess right if you want to know what I’m thinking. I think your previous answer had just enough truth without the real reason.”

“Is that so?” He swallowed hard, suddenly thirsty. Goren grabbed his drink downing it. He then appeared to be reaching over her to grab something.“I still, uh, have one more guess,“ he stated putting up his fingers to show one.

He smiled slyly before making his move. He leaned in blocking most of the view from onlookers with his body. Then, he placed his hand on her thigh, turning the tables on her, whispering in her ear. “Does the reason I’m so distracted have anything to do with how fucking amazing you look tonight and maybe how I can’t think about anything else but you.” There, he said it and put it out there but he knew she knew anyway. She was a damn good detective and would have picked up on it immediately. He may have been obvious about his staring but he couldn’t help that he could not look away. She was beautiful and sexy and even more so that she knew it and flaunted it, determined to keep her femininity along with being a cop in the boys club. She bit her lip. He continued,“Is it wrong that I’m having dirty thoughts about you, right now?” He ran his hand higher up her thigh slowly and tortuously up her dress. “Stop me if I’m misinterpreting.” He whispered in her ear. His hot breath brushed across her ear and Eames couldn’t speak nor did she want to. His breath caught as the pads of his fingertips touched her skin ever so lightly. He was so close to her and his hand was in a place no partner should have his hand but she wasn’t stopping him. It was turning him on. “You are making me crazy, tonight. You know that, right.” She let out a light gasp at how high his fingers were going up her legs. She almost didn’t want to speak knowing it would put an end to the teasing they were doing to each other and she didn’t want him to stop but she knew they needed to before they became indecent in public, at the most popular cop bar near the precinct.

She willed her mouth to speak, “Bobby.”

This was what she wanted. She was feeling sexy tonight and his staring didn’t go unnoticed and made her feel even more sexy. She was going to do this but it was going to be on her terms. He removed his hand and reached for a napkin to the side of her with his other hand. He wiped his mouth and placed it inside his empty cup.

“Alex.” He whispered as he stared into her eyes. He might have won this game of chicken they were playing.

He deflated a little when she shook her head. “Eames. Call me Eames.”

Was it in his head? She definitely was flirting with him. He didn’t imagine it. She got up and leaned to him as she vacated her stool. “See, I knew you would figure it out and sex was definitely on your mind.” He grinned hard and got up from his seat as well. Eames kept her voice low, “If we are going to do this, I want to keep it casual just for tonight and I want you to call me Eames.”

He smiled before the words caught his ear. “Are you gonna call me Goren?” He joked

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here.” He stumbled a bit. Wait was she serious? Are we gonna do this? Thoughts began to race through his head and he froze for a second trying to think of what to say. I should stop this right? We were going too far? I don’t want to stop it. I very much want to do this. But what if someone finds out? What if it changes things between them? How is she not nervous? He was stressing a bit about what the right play was and he was almost itching for a cigarette to calm his nerves but then Eames spoke.

Eames glanced over to him,“Don’t overthink it, Goren.” Just like that, she willed his mind to focus. How does she do that? Before he could get his words out, he found his body walking out the door after her. He had to address the obvious before they did anything and give a gentlemanly rationale; an out for her in case she changed her mind.

“Eames, this has been uh fun but you’re not seriously thinking we should act on this.”

“It’s sex, Goren. Something, I’m pretty sure we are both capable of doing without letting it get in the way of work.”

“H-how long have you been thinking about this?” his voice was betraying him as his nerves started coming back. We are doing this.

“Less talk more action.”

“Action. What kind of action?”

“We’ll if you don’t know that, then maybe you shouldn’t do this.” She replied but rolled her eyes when she realized she was going to have to lead him in this or he was going to be thinking and analyzing the whole time and she wanted his mind and attention focused solely on her. “First, we are going to call a cab. Then, you are going to take me into your apartment and we are going to have sex, passionate sex, and afterwards we are not going to talk about consequences. When I leave, what we are about to do will not have happened, understand?”

“Okay and I’m more than capable.” Goren puffed out his chest and widened his gait. There you go, Goren. I’ve always liked when you are cocky and confident. She smiled.

“Oh, I bet you are. Size 13 right?”

Please review on ff.net and AO3

#Fanfiction #otp: an aquired taste

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hornyliverpudlianputz · 6 years ago

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The Monkees: Timeless, but not ageless

Ok so I didn’t think this was such a big deal but apparently a lot of us care how old the guys were supposed to be in the show. (And I think it’s an interesting topic for discussion.) Several people have raised some really good points and I had forgotten one crucial detail and one specific line in an episode so in the interest of consolidation I thought I would do a post. Many thanks to @the-subservient-human, @fivedollarradio, and the two anons who brought up good arguments, @nezclaw for some detective work, and @eddiecranes for asking the initial question.

I have always thought, personally, that the guys were meant to be around 16 or 17 years old due to several indicators I have already outlined (being called “boys” a lot and being “too young for marriage” among other things), but like I said I had forgotten a crucial detail. The age of majority.

The age of majority, for those that don’t know, is the legal dividing line between being a “minor” and being an “adult”. In the US today, the age of majority is 18. Once you turn 18 you can vote, you are independent from your legal guardian(s), and you can be officially prosecuted as an adult in a court of law without anyone having to appeal for it.

The age of majority is what I was somewhat basing my analysis on, having completely forgotten that in the 1960s the age of majority was 21, not 18. I am twice the idiot because this is actually a topic of discussion in one of the post show interviews. You guys could probably guess which one, but it’s the interview where they talk about the Sunset Strip Riots. The “riots” (or “demonstrations” as Micky says) were actually about a curfew law in place in California at the time where people under the age of 18 had to be home by 10pm. There’s some discussion by the guys on the subject but at the end Davy, who has been quiet since the topic has been brought up, says this:

“The reason I haven’t spoken all this time is because that it doesn’t matter what I say. Nobody will listen to me, because I’m under 21. So I’m just keeping my mouth shut.”

Now. What is interesting about this is that it was Davy who was speaking. Davy, as we know, was the youngest of the four. He would have been 19 or 20 when he started work on the show, and was almost certainly 20 at the time of this interview. As he says, under 21. Legally a minor.

But crucially, he is the only one of them that is. And again, crucially, he is the only one that we see make a comment about their ages. These interviews were edited; yes they were off the cuff but they were none the less clipped and spliced together to present the image that was desired. So if any of the other guys mention their ages, we don’t know about it. But we do see Davy bring it up which means they wanted us to see that. They wanted us to see one of The Monkees talking about how he was a minor because it helped sell the image they wanted the audience to buy into.

But. (And again I am twice the idiot for forgetting this) Mike tells us his exact age in “I’ve Got A Little Song Here”, and it’s 21. This is not terribly surprising as Mike was consistently sold as “the adult” of the group both in marketing and in character in the show. What it means is that Mike was probably supposed to be the oldest Monkee in show canon, and all of the other guys were around his age but younger.

So with this in mind I retract my earlier hypothesis. I do actually think now that the guys were probably supposed to be closer to 18-19 in show canon. Old enough to have feasibly graduated high school but still considered “minors”, with the exception of Mike. Davy was probably meant to be the youngest, which is why we see him dating a girl explicitly stated to be in high school in the pilot. (This is the only time that happens though, all the other romantic interests are implied to have completed secondary school. Or at least, seem to be acting independently.)

Again, thank you to everyone who contributed to the discussion! I learned something!

#the monkees #analysis #long ass post

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sartrecamus2018-blog · 6 years ago

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2018 Review

That time of year again, where I offer my take on another year in my life, and a pretty eventful one to say the least, but I’ll get to that later. I might do two parts of this: a review of music and films that I associate with this year, and then the nice one - a social review of this year.

I guess I’ll have my own awards ceremony for this, the review of music and film; now rather than being music or films that came out exclusively in this year, the main awards are more for the artist, song, or film that I associate with this year. The “New” section now are for awards exclusive to this year. Now this is cleared up, let’s look at the categories and the shortlist:

Artist of the Year -

Tool

Eminem

Foo Fighters

Mike Shinoda

Led Zeppelin

Song of the Year -

Lateralus - Tool

Fall - Eminem

Letting You Go - Bullet for my Valentine

Set it Off - Audioslave

Let Me Go - Avril Lavigne

Film of the Year -

Love Actually

Avengers: Infinity War

About Time

New Artist of the Year -

Greta Van Fleet

Halestorm

Mike Shindoa

New Song of the Year -

When the Curtain Falls - Greta Van Fleet

Uncomfortable - Halestorm

Nothing Makes Sense Anymore - Mike Shinoda

Letting it Go - Bullet for my Valentine

Evolution - Monster Truck

Okay let’s begin:

New Song of the Year - I’ve actually bought more albums that have come out in the year itself during 2018 than any other year, making this actually quite difficult. All of these songs I were listened to regularly during summer, so I associate them with that slightly tedious time... That said, they all helped me through it. Letting it Go by B4MV jumps out immediately as I listened the heck out of that song; the trio of When the Curtain Falls, Uncomfortable, and Evolution all rock so hard and are real jams. But! Mike Shinoda and his album Post Traumatic is a pretty extraordinary piece of work and if I could be bothered to, would give it album of the year; Nothing Makes Sense Anymore perfectly captures the emotional turmoil of the album, but also works as a strangely positive and hopeful song - a nice sing-a-long too. For this, it gets my New Song of the Year award - Nothing Makes Sense Anymore - Mike Shinoda

New Artist of the Year - I realised I may overexerted myself, writing that much for the first entry, but I’ll give it a shot here; firstly, no surprises really that the three nominees for the Artist of the Year are also included in the song category, as all of them helped me through those lonely, torturous summer months. There is reason to chose any of the three for this award - Greta an Fleet’s debut is just so freaking good like wow, and I think we can say they have proved all the haters wrong; Halestorm finally made the album that they’ve had the potential to make; both catchy and heavy in equal measure. But I mean - Mike - what a year. To come from the depths of 2017 to write an album that has more emotion than a Shakespearean novel demonstrates, if anything the strength of this man. Linkin Park are in good hands - Artist of the Year Award - Mike Shinoda

Film of the Year - I’ve amalgamated both films released this year and older films that I’ve only seen this year, because I genuinely haven’t seen any films this year it’s been embarrassing. The one film out of probably two that I’ve seen this year is Avengers: Infinity War, which got me right back on the Marvel hype train - I know everyone talks about the ending but the two and a half hours before that is so ambitious, and is unlike any previous Marvel film. Now comes the Richard Curtis show, first, About Time: ugh! I mean it’s purposefully sentimental and bloody Curtis knows what he’s doing but my gosh it works. Plus it has some meaning to me as well, considering the circumstances under which I watched it. The same can be said for Love Actually, but that was just something else; the perfect film to watch on a pretty perfect night, the emotional compromise was real. Heck, take it: Film of the Year - Love Actually

Song of the Year - okay now things get good! No surprises really that all these songs I associate with the latter half of the year, especially the ones that were introduced to me by someone, which only gives it more meaning. I’m gonna rule out Fall and Letting You Go, and although I love them, the competition is so strong; sorry guys. Set it Off and Let Me Go I was introduced to, and my gosh am I thankful for that - they may not be particularly profound, but they hit all the right places as far as being heavy and aggressive, in the case of Set it Off, and and emotional roller coaster in the case of Let Me Go. Any other year, trust me, it would be them, and there are certain nights I will come to forever associate with those songs. It just so happens that Lateralus is a song I associate with that night... tired, dazed, and wildly sentimental I listened to this as I was half falling asleep. The slow build up leading to that opening riff is the calm before the emotional storm when that riff kicks in, perfectly capturing the sense of what had occured that night. I mean, there’s all the complex song structure and Fibonacci sequence stuff going on, but at the end of the day, it’s a brilliantly emotional song. I’ll cry when I see it live. Song of the Year - Lateralus - Tool

Artist of the Year - Oh now I’m really going to ruffle a couple of feathers. It’s been a privilege to have found these artists this year, and in the case of some of them, it’s embaressing it’s taken so long. Led Zeppelin, however, I knew (how could I not!) and had been into for a while, but exploring their music for a little band I may or may have not been in was a real treat. I may not be able to listen to Dazed and Confused for a while considering we played it probably thousands of times, that said, the Song Remains the Same version is sublime. I was always going to support Mike Shinoda whatever he did, but the release of the Post Traumatic album was something really special - I’ve gone on about it enough, but it’s an album that has covered all my emotions and I’m sure will continue to in the future. Foo Fighters I had never really given the focus they deserved, until I sat down and listened to them properly - The Pretender, Learn to Fly, Everlong have all been the soundtrack to the last few months; watching their Glastonbury show was also a real highlight. The hard time of study leave in May and June was soundtracked by, strangely enough, Eminem... I don’t really know I managed to get into him, considering I was never really much of a fan of rap, but it my gosh it payed off. I listened to him pretty much throughout those couple of months, exploring all the albums as I become more and more convinced I could do the whole Rap God. While that is questionable, Eminem will continue to be a staple in my playlists to come. Tool time! Yeah they’re an amazing band I had previously thought of as overly indulgent and pretensions; while I still think that is the case, I now realise their music is probably unlike any in all of metal, managing to be both heavy and subtle in these powerful and profound songs. They’re incredible musicians and a truly unique band, and I’m fortunate they’ve provided a couple of songs to some amazing times in this year. Screw it - Artist of the Year - Tool/ Eminem

Next time on the Review of the Year - despite that being incredibly long-winded, I now move on to the second part where I look at all the social goings on of the year; I would have had very little to write about if I was to write about the two thirds of the year, but the final third! Now that’ something I can get into...

See y’all!

#2018 #2019 #Tool #Eminem #Mike Shindoa #Linkin Park #Foo Fighters #Halestorm #Greta Van Fleet #Love Actually #Avengers #Marvel #Infinity War #About Time #Feels #Love

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atlanticcanada · 3 years ago

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Police arrest and charge two people involved with convoy protests

WARNING: This story contains content that may be offensive

Crowds are thinning on Parliament Hill, but a lingering cohort of protesters has vowed to stay the course as the trucker protest neared the end of a fourth day in Ottawa, despite condemnations, calls to go home, and arrests.

Although some members of the protest convoy arrived in the city on Friday, snarling downtown traffic, the main rally took place on the Hill Saturday and some protesters have remained in the area since.

Ottawa police announced Tuesday night that two people were arrested and charged in connection with incidents that took place at the demonstration over the weekend.

A 29-year-old Ottawa man was charged for allegedly causing mischief to property on Saturday. Police didn't specify what the mischief entailed, but said they waited to make an arrest at the time in order to avoid "a larger confrontation."

On Sunday, a 37-year-old Ottawa man was charged with carrying a weapon to a public meeting. No further details were given on what the weapon was.

Ottawa police said in a media release that they have 13 investigations underway and that they are making progress on the "desecration of the War Monument."

Police also said that they are seeing a reduction in the demonstration. In the media release, they state 50 people remain on Parliament Hill and another 200 people "are gathered nearby."

Protesters have been bringing in fuel and supplies to those who are hunkered down in their vehicles Tuesday, while others have been seen playing street hockey throughout the day.

Buttons and badges that were offered for sale at the convoy Tuesday included those with “mask exemption” messaging, offensive imagery and other anti-mandate language.

Some child care centres remain closed in the downtown area, and at least one vaccine clinic has shut its doors due to the protest Tuesday, for the fifth day in a row.

Some residents in Ottawa have reported being challenged on wearing masks by protesters and being assaulted while walking in their neighbourhoods. Many businesses in the downtown core will remain closed in light of the protest.

CTV News app sign-up: Breaking news alerts and top stories delivered right to you

One protester seated near the Terry Fox statue -- which he said other protesters placed flowers on in a gesture after the outcry on the weekend -- told CTV News Tuesday in a livestream that he was there because of his beliefs in body autonomy and self-sovereignty, and that he believes the country has gone “a little too far with the liberalism.”

Decrying what he said was unfair, biased coverage from mainstream media of the “good people” who were part of the convoy, the protester, who did not give his name, said “people just want the truth.”

Speaking to reporters prior to a cabinet meeting Tuesday, Transport Minister Omar Alghabra said the government will “continue to follow public health advice and…when doctors, experts tell us that things are getting better, we will adjust those measures,” in response to a question about when vaccine mandates for truckers might end.

Minister of Innovation, Science and Industry François-Philippe Champagne reiterated that it is time for the protesters to return home.

“They’ve been heard, now it’s time to give back downtown Ottawa to downtown residents…now let the people of Ottawa go back to a normal life,” Champagne told reporters.

In a statement issued Tuesday, the President of the Private Motor Truck Council of Canada (PMTC) Mike Millian also declared it was time for protesters to go home.

Recapping some of the incidents over the weekend, Millian said the PMTC was “very disturbed” by some of the images and reports out of Ottawa of monuments “desecrated” and symbols of hate being displayed.

“The majority of the trucking industry, and the vast majority of drivers, were not involved in this convoy in any way and continued to work to ensure our essential supplies were provided for,” the statement read, before thanking the drivers who were “protesting politely” and those who donated to the shelter Shepherds of Good Hope.

“The protesters that remain in Ottawa today however, it is time to pack up and leave. Your message has been heard. The people of Ottawa should be allowed to get back to their lives, which have been disrupted for three days now,” the statement said. “People need to get to work, take their kids to school, and open their businesses, the very thing some of the protesters claim to be fighting for.”

Addressing the blockade of land borders between Canada and the U.S., Millian said that while the PMTC does not support vaccine mandates for truck drivers, they “do not support the actions that have been taken in recent days to try and change them.”

“When you allow yourself to become part of something that gets out of hand, there is a price that comes with it.”

Read more: Feds dismiss suggestion they should 'step in' as trucker protest continues

Meanwhile, Ottawa Police denied allegations of officers bringing supplies to protesters on Saturday made in a video posted on social media.

“Police are not providing food, fuel or any other supplies to demonstrators,” the police said in a tweet. “There is a video circulating that shows officers bringing in boxes of food and supplies to other officers working at the demonstration.”

Hotels in the area are bracing for the protesters to potentially reconvene next weekend, after hotel staff had to “call the police all the time” about violence and vandalism when dealing with the first wave of protesters, according to Steve Ball, President of the Ottawa-Gatineau Hotel Association.

“On Friday during check-in and throughout there were some real issues around the masking policies, and of course the protesters are here to protest mandates and the hotels are here to serve the public and follow guidelines, so there was quite a bit of conflict on Friday,” Ball said on CTV News Channel Tuesday, adding that things settled down as the weekend went on.

When asked about hotels no longer taking reservations, Ball said the issue is “mixing cohorts of guests” -- tourists who are following guidelines and protesters who are “there to make a point.”

“There’s conflicts in the lobbies, there’s conflicts in the elevators, so we’re just trying to manage that as best we can,” he said.

Ottawa Mayor Jim Watson said on CTV’s Your Morning Tuesday that the trucker protest is “something that we’ve never seen before.”

“Police are doing what they can to make the situation the best they can, a lot of people are frustrated and just want the trucks towed away,” he said. “The bottom line is the last thing you want to do is, when you see a fire, is pour gasoline.”

Watson said that residents are nevertheless fed up and that he is calling on the trucker convoy organizers to tell protesters to go home.

“The reality is, they’ve had their attention, they’ve had their 15 minutes in the spotlight,” he said. “Let us have our city back.”

When asked about criticism aimed at the Ottawa police force for their gentle, more “hands off” approach to this protest compared to others that have taken place, Watson said the police were making sure there isn’t a “flare up” of violence.

“They have to de-escalate the situation before moving in,” he said, adding that the police and the city have a “number of plans” for the protest.

But some Ottawa organizations are calling for immediate action to end the protest, citing intimidating and harassment.

The Ottawa Coalition to End Violence Against Women (OCTEVAW) issued a statement Sunday, demanding city leadership take “concrete action to end violence downtown.”

“Make no mistake, the hate mob occupying the downtown core is violent. As a coalition representing community-based organizations dedicated to ending violence against women and gender-based violence, the hateful messaging, intimidation, and racism currently taking place in our streets is what our member agencies address daily,” the statement reads. “We have heard of accounts of young women being followed, almost run over, and threatened with rape. It comes as no surprise that those embracing racist, homophobic, and transphobic values also openly demonstrate their hatred towards women.”

OCTEVAW said in its statement it stands in solidarity with “organizers in our community in denouncing the hate fuelled mob, and the City’s lack of intervention.”

In a news conference on Monday afternoon, Ottawa Police Service Chief Peter Sloly said that the demonstration resulted in no reported injuries, deaths or riots.

Sloly said that “tens of thousands” of protesters and “thousands of heavy trucks” had gathered over the past few days, but that the crowd had significantly “scaled down” from the weekend.

“I'll repeat again the scale of these operations are significant. The number of people is not out of the ordinary for large demonstrations in big cities, particularly the nation's capital, but the extra presence of the large number of vehicles and heavy vehicles, the level of funding and overall support and organization in and around the core demonstrations, is significant and unprecedented,” he said.

In a question-and-answer session after the news conference, Sloly clarified his estimate on the numbers of protesters, with the caveat that all information was fluid and constantly changing.

“I have heard numbers as high as 18,000 and as low as 5,000,” Sloly said. “Saturday was definitely the largest amount of trucks and demonstrators over a 24-hour period.”

Sloly said that police in Ottawa are in negotiations with the organizers to bring the protest to an end and that “all options are on the table” to end the demonstration, including using force.

The Ottawa Paramedic Service confirmed to CTV News Monday that a rock was thrown at one of their trucks Sunday and that a racial slur was yelled targeting the paramedic in that vehicle.

There were at least two other incidents of projectiles thrown at paramedic vehicles, and the service had issues responding to calls in the downtown core where protesters were either slowing them down or intimidating paramedics, mostly on Saturday, a spokesperson said.

The spokesperson said the police will now be responding “at all times” with the paramedics for safety.

Monday brought fiery remarks from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who said at a press conference he would not meet with any of the truckers and said, in the past few days, “Canadians were shocked and frankly, disgusted by the behaviour displayed by some people protesting in our nation's capital.”

READ MORE: 'We are not intimidated,' PM says as MPs return to the Hill despite protest

“I want to be very clear, we are not intimidated by those who hurl insults and abuse at small business workers, and steal food from the homeless,” Trudeau said. “We won't give in to those who fly racist flags. We won't cave to those who engage in vandalism or dishonour the memory of our veterans.”

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/Dcu4Is9lz

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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master-sass-blast · 6 years ago

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Strong as Stone --Part Twenty-Eight

Well, hello there! Welcome to some good times!

Last time we got to see some snapshots of O’Chenga’s, M’Baku’s, Ayo’s, and Aneka’s lives. This time, we get to see kindergartners try to climb M’Baku like a tree!

That’s right, it’s the promised and long awaited fluff update! We’re back in America, but this time we’re just having a bunch of fun!

Rating: T for mild language.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku, T’Challa x Nakia, and Shuri x OC.

Many thanks to @ginghampearlsandsweettea to helping me come up with different things to do in this update (and future updates as well)!

@the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

Loss of perspective is deadly. Perhaps not in the sense of literal death, but in the sense that you will lose yourself.

Don’t lose sight of the true purpose in what you do. Don’t confuse the challenges you face with the reason you started the journey in the first place.

Keep your eyes set on the right goals, my dears. It may end up saving you in the end.

“Sorry I’m late!” Nakia dashed into the dining room with a shocked, if pleased, expression on her face. “You’re not going to believe what I just found out about.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow. “I can only imagine.”

“The apocalypse happened and it was way more anti-climatic than any of us were expecting?” Dewani suggested as she tried --and failed--to sneak food off Shuri’s plate.

“It’s entirely possible.” Nakia held up a tablet which had an article from the Associated Press on the screen. “Trump’s been impeached.”

“About damn time,” M’Baku muttered as he took a long sip of wine.

“What happened?” Ramonda asked.

“According to an official report from Congress, his increasingly inflammatory behavior over the sexual assault lawsuit from Wakandan official, General Okoye, prompted an emergency session in the governing bodies of the nation, who voted that the President’s misconduct was sufficient grounds for impeachment. An overwhelming majority of the senators voted to convict, and the President was removed from office the following morning. Vice President Mike Pence stands to be inaugurated into the office of President, as follows the regular traditions and practices,” Nakia read off her tablet. She stopped and looked up, eyes wide. “It’s real. He was escorted from the White House this afternoon.”

Okoye realized that everyone was looking at her, and suddenly felt like she was a slide under a microscope. She picked up her glass of wine and stared down at the dark red liquid. Thank Bast, it’s done. Now, if everyone would just stop staring at me...

Honestly, what were they expecting? Tears? A victory dance? A rant?

Candidly, all of those would probably happen later, but in private, with only M’Baku or Ayo and Aneka to bear witness. It definitely, however, was not going to happen in front of the King, the Princess, and the Queen Mother.

I’d rather shove a fork in my eye.

“Anyway,” Dewani chirped as she quickly snatched a piece of mango off Shuri’s plate and tucked it in her cheek. “Glad that’s over. What’s next?”

Okoye a discreet ‘thank you’ at her, to which Dewani winked in return.

“Well--” Shuri eyed Dewani with mock annoyance “--I’m going on my United States college tour to give demonstrations of Wakandan scientific development.” She frowned when both T’Challa and Okoye grimaced. “What? Why do you two look like you just sucked on a lemon?”

“It’s just been... exhausting to deal with the American policy makers. I guess you could say we’re feeling a little...”

“Burnt out?” Okoye suggested grimly, quietly, when T’Challa trailed off.

“Well, no wonder. You’ve been focusing on the wrong things.”

The corner of T’Challa’s mouth lifted as he raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Have we?”

“Obviously. You’ve lost sight of why we’re doing the outreach program. It’s not for the policy makers. It’s for the communities we’re reaching out to. Duh.”

“Shuri,” Ramonda said as she expertly smothered a smile. “Be nice.”

“Sorry. Anyway, you ought to come with me! It’ll be good for you to connect to the communities a little. Give you an image of what you’re working for when you have to deal with the policy makers.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Nakia said. “It’d be good for all of us to see some positivity out of all of this so we don’t become too jaded.”

“Nakia--”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun!”

M’Baku shrugs. “I was already going for part of the time to keep an eye on Dewani.”

“It’s like you don’t trust me,” Dewani fake complained as she slipped a bite of fried eggplant off M’Baku’s plate. “I honestly don’t get it.”

“Just my older brother instincts. Eat off your own plate please.”

Admittedly, Okoye didn’t seem too much appeal in going back to America. She’d had enough of the environment and the chaos for the time being. All she really wanted to do was hole up in her apartment for a few days and keep to her own schedule as she damn well pleased.

But Nakia was right. Finding positivity in a difficult situation was important. And if was possible --more than likely, even--that her and T’Challa’s burn out was coming from misplaced focus; if that was the case, then resetting that focus as soon as possible would be crucial to keep the burn out from setting in too deeply.

Plus, it would mean that she’d get to spend time with M’Baku...

Okoye shrugged. What the hell. “I’m in.”

“Okay, I’m fine with the dress, but why do I have to wear these?” Dewani held up a pair of pump heels like they were an about-to-explode bomb.

They were back in Washington D.C., starting Shuri’s college tour with her at Howard University.

“It’s a historically black college,” Shuri had explained on their flight to the United States. “It was established in 1867 to serve African American communities during apartheid and the segregation era. They’re ranked eighty-ninth in national universities, thirty-fourth in best undergraduate teaching, seventy-third in best value schools, have a sixty percent graduation rate, and it’s well known for its excellent science programs.”

“Well, that explains why you’re going,” T’Challa had said with a smile.

“Appearance and presentation is important at Howard University,” Shuri explained as she took the shoes out of Dewani’s hands. “We’re dressing with the crowd. But I think you’ll be happier with these.” She handed her girlfriend a pair of low heeled --but still stylish--ankle boots. “They’ll be more comfortable.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

Okoye smiled slightly as Dewani and Shuri chattered together --then smiled broader as M’Baku’s arms settled around her shoulders and leaned back against his solid chest. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His lips pressed against her temple in a way that was chaste and sensual all at once. “You look a picture, ‘koye.”

“Thank you.” She turned, eyed the suit he wore and the elegant kente scarf draped across his chest, and eyed him a way that she knew hid absolutely none of the sudden hunger she feels for him --which, of course, was exactly what she was going for. “You look good, too.”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow and smirked down at her. “Do I now?”

“Of course.”

There was a knock at the door, and then it swung open to reveal a rather exasperated looking T’Challa. “Shuri. We need to leave now or we’re going to be late.”

“Yes, yes, hold on to your shorts! I’m just finishing up!”

“Shuri, I said leaving, not--”

Shuri tsked as she put on her plum colored overcoat and extended the handle on her rolling lab bag. “Relax, brother. Are you always so nervous?”

Okoye hid an amused smile into the back of her hand as T’Challa rolled his eyes while Shuri breezed past him with Dewani.

M’Baku nudged her shoulder, then held out his arm to her when she looked up. “Are you ready, my lady?”

Okoye grinned and looped her arm through his. “That I am.”

Okoye watched from the background as Shuri went through the paces of demonstrating the various capabilities of Wakandan technology. She didn’t pretend to understand all of it --she wasn’t incompetent, by any means, but she wasn’t on Shuri’s level either--but she could tell that the Princess was having quite the effect on the crowd.

The students were all in various states of awe, eyes wide and more mouths hanging open than not. Some were hastily taking notes while Shuri talked, while others were just sitting back and taking everything in.

Even though she’d grown up sheltered from the outside world, she still knew that things were undeniably stacked against the African diaspora. Slavery. Segregation. Apartheid. The Jim Crow era. Everything N’Jadaka had cited in his reasons for waging war on the outside world and more.

She was lucky, she realized. She’d grown up with countless role models and inspirations that looked like her, in a society where people like her were celebrated.

Tragic as it was, that wasn’t even close to a universally common experience.

But, as Okoye watched countless students of color watch Shuri with stars in their eyes, she realized it could be. That the outreach program could help make growing up admiring and aspiring to be like role models that looked like you a more common facet of life.

She smiled as she felt the burned out feeling that made her limbs weary fade, replaced by new energy and determination. This. This is what we’re here for.

They stayed for a while after the demonstration ended so that Shuri could meet and talk to the students. They clamored around her like excited children, asking her questions about Wakanda and her life there and different advancements in technology.

“Wakanda is amazing --though being the sister of a king isn’t as exciting as you might think,” she said with a cheeky wink in T’Challa’s direction.

“Very funny,” T’Challa replied, good natured, when everyone laughed.

“Is it true that the Wakandan Outreach Program is going to offer scholarship opportunities and financial aid for students?” another student asked.

“That is one of our goals, but coordinating with different colleges and universities is making things a little difficult,” Shuri said with a nod. “We are confident, though, that we’ll be able to start offering different options to members of the program by the end of next year.”

A rush of murmurs went through the students, various grumblings about loans and vows to get connected with the outreach program as soon as they could.

Okoye narrowed her eyes and leaned towards T’Challa. “How does Howard University rank as far as financial aid options and tuition costs?”

“Not bad, but the United States isn’t exactly known for its inexpensive education.”

Well, that was no small secret. Between the regular reports that Wakanda got on other nations’ financial status and Shuri’s seemingly omniscient connection to social media, Okoye knew all too well that too many students were shot in the foot with debt before they even graduated.

“I wish there was something we could do about that,” Nakia murmured as she watched Shuri and Dewani field questions from the students and take selfies with them.

Okoye didn’t miss the contemplative gleam in T’Challa’s eyes, and she carefully suppressed a smile. Bast, I know he’s planning something, and I know it’s going to be good.

“Okay, I’m back from the university. There’s no one to see any texts or overhear any phone calls. Now, will you please tell me why you made an impromptu trip to the university President’s office without telling me?”

Okoye smirked. Barely two seconds in the door and she’s already asking questions.

Some things about Shuri never changed, no matter how old she got or how much of the world she’d seen.

“If you really must know,” T’Challa said with an amused smile. “We were just settling the issue of who would be the commencement speaker for the upcoming Spring graduation.”

Shuri blinked, then grinned, wide and bright. “Really? You’re going to be the commencement speaker?”

“I think I know how to give a speech, Shuri.”

“Debatable.” She surged forward and wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Shuri shrugged, still smiling as she stepped back. “For not giving up.”

T’Challa smiled back. “So, I know we can’t accompany you to the lab observations for safety reasons. Do you have any recommendations for what we do while you’re busy?”

“Funny you should ask... I might’ve taken the liberty of booking a couple things for you.”

The corner of Okoye’s mouth turned up in a smile as T’Challa rolled his eyes. This ought to be good.

It was good. It was really good.

Shuri had arranged a series of ‘meet and greets’ at some local elementary, middle, and high schools for them over the next couple of days. Each time they walked into a gym or a crowded auditorium, they were greeted with excited chatter and cheers.

Today was no exception. They were surrounded by a group of excited kindergartners, answering questions about life in Wakanda and learning more about life in the United States. They were shocked to find out that Wakanda didn’t have things like Poptarts, Oreos, and other Western staples --and even more thrilled to learn about the Dora Milaje.

Everywhere she went, no matter what their background, young girls loved finding out that there was an entire group of soldiers comprised only of women. No matter how many successful missions she cleared or how many places she traveled to, seeing the look of excitement on young girls’ faces when they saw other women being powerful in their own right was always --would always be--Okoye’s favorite part of her job.

She --carefully--showed her spear to the class, explaining how it worked and --very carefully--demonstrated how she twirled it.

Perhaps the funniest moment of the day, though, was how well the students took to M’Baku. They bobbed around him, ridiculously tiny compared to his sheer size, asking him questions about the Jabari lands and the differences between the Jabari and the rest of Wakanda.

Then, one student tried to climb him like they would a tree, and it was all over from there.

M’Baku, to his credit, took everything in his usual relaxed stride. He patiently answered each question in turn and happily let the students clamber all over him until the teacher told them to settle back down.

Okoye couldn’t help but grin as he lifted two students, one gripping to each hand, as he would a pair of weights. She chuckled when he jibed at T’Challa about the might of the Jabari, but she was all too aware of the warmth settling in her lower abdomen. He looks good when he works with kids.

Not for the first time, she was grateful she had her own hotel room for this trip. It would make dealing with these... feelings much, much easier.

“Would you want to have a boy first, or a girl?”

They were back at the hotel, lying in the center of Okoye’s bed, propped up on pillows as they cuddled together and enjoyed some time alone together.

“I mean, obviously them being healthy and happy is the biggest priority, and I suppose the gender doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things,” Okoye said. “But I am genuinely curious.”

“I get what you’re saying,” M’Baku said as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head. “It’s one of those things people ask. I wouldn’t be upset with either a son or a daughter, but... I kind of want a boy first.” He grinned. “I’ve already raised a girl, technically. I want to try my hand with a boy.”

“Makes sense. Would Dewani be their older sister, or their aunt?”

“Aunt. She and I already talked about it; that’s what she wants.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow at him. “The two of you have talked about us wanting kids?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m referring to. She’s always known that I’ll need to have biological children of my own some day. I check in with her about once a year or so, to see if her opinion’s changed, but she’s always wanted to be an aunt. For as much as I’ve done my best to raise her well, we’ve never quite fit into a ‘father-daughter’ dynamic.”

“You two do your own thing,” Okoye agreed.

M’Baku chuckled and pulled her in closer. “That we do.”

“Is it wrong if I say I’d rather be with the students than here?”

Okoye closed her hand over M’Baku’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “No. But this time will be better.”

They were sitting in front of the White House again. Her attorney had contacted her a few days ago, informing her that she could expect the settlement payment in approximately five days and that the newly minted President Pence would be holding a press conference to offer an official apology to her and anyone else harmed by the former President’s behavior.

If she was being honest, Okoye was just glad it was all over with.

She watched as President Pence walked up to a podium, expression stoic. She kept her expression neutral as his calm gaze flicked over to her and M’Baku, then to T’Challa and Nakia. Bast, can we please just get on with this?

Fortunately, it seemed that the Panther goddess was smiling down on her after all; at that moment, the new President cleared his throat and began his apology speech.

Okoye sat back and partially listened as he apologized to her, specifically, and to any other women that had been harmed by Trump’s behaviors and encouragement. Mostly, though, his words just seemed wash over her, flowing past her and dissipating somewhere behind her.

She appreciated the apology, really, but it was also really obvious that it was a politically correct formality. Here they were, in front of a group of reporters, hearing a televised speech that wasn’t even fully addressed to her and the frustration she’d had to endure for the past couple months.

Politically, she understood why they were doing things the way they were, but she wasn’t a political entity. She was a person. And, sometimes, she wanted to just be treated like a person, dammit.

Screw them, Okoye decided. She focused her thoughts on the high school students that had come dressed in Dora Milaje costumes, on the kindergartners that had gasped when she’d showed them the workings of her spear, and the college students that had been sitting in near dumbstruck awe as they watched Shuri demonstrate the capabilities of Wakandan technology. We’re not here for the politics, and we’re not here for the politicians; we’re here for the people.

That was the truth of it. The Outreach program had never been for politics, never been for looking good. It had been for people. For trying to rectify the damage they’d done in sitting in the shadows and doing nothing.

She let go of the nuances of what she found wrong with the apology and found peace in sitting back and focusing on the past few days. It’s an end to the madness, she told herself about the apology. Let it stay that way. They don’t deserve any more of your energy.

Breathe in, breathe out. Be like the stones in the river.

She breathed in.

She breathed out.

She was at peace.

#sass writes #black panther fanfiction #okoye x m'baku #t'challa x nakia #shuri x oc #fluff fluff fluff #just a bunch of good times #everyone's happy #and relaxed #it's just a good time #black panther imagine #wakanda forever

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thepokyone · 7 years ago

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Finding Eleven Pt. 6

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Content/Warnings: language

Words: 2341

A/N: So I finally finished part 6 - it’s been sitting partially done for days but I finally was able to get it written this afternoon. Both Steve and Hopper finally make an appearance, and things are happening! Enjoy, guys!

Series Masterlist

Part 6: Dustin’s Dilemma

You awoke some time later, with a pounding headache and no recollection of how you had ended up in a bed. You groaned, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and rubbing your temples. Joyce appeared in the doorway. “Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Like I got run over by a truck,” You mumbled. “So, you know, could be better.”

“Here, drink some water,” Joyce said, picking up the glass of water you hadn’t noticed sitting on the nightstand. You took the tall glass and gladly drank the cool liquid. “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

You sat in the dim room with your eyes closed for the several minutes it took for her to return. You swallowed the medicine with the aid of the water. “Thanks, Ms. Byers. Is Will okay?”

“Yes, he’s okay. He’s just… drawing,” Joyce said. “Oh, and Hopper is here. He showed up while you were unconscious and helped me get you into the bed.”

“I suppose now is a good a time as any to meet him,” You said, ignoring your body’s tired protests as you pushed yourself to your feet. “So he’s in my circle, you’re free to talk about me with him.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” She said, leading you out of the bedroom. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright light, and it caused your headache to flare up. “Hopper?”

“Good, you’re up,” The police chief said, standing and placing down the bundle of papers he was holding. “Hopefully you’ll be able to answer the questions that Joyce wouldn’t.”

You heard the irritation in his voice, and felt bad about driving a wedge of distrust between them. “First of all, what I’m about to tell you cannot be discussed with anyone besides Ms. Byers, Will, or the rest of Will’s party.”

“Okay…” His eyebrows raised. “What is it?”

“I’m assuming you know about Eleven,” You started, and his face instantly morphed from confused to guarded.

“Yeah, what about her?” He asked suspiciously.

You let the question hang for a moment, methodically rolling up the sleeve of your shirt to reveal the tattoo on your wrist. “She’s my sister.”

“You’re from the lab, too.” Surprise was painted on his face, and his features softened.

“I was, yeah,” You said, pulling down your sleeve to hide the ‘010’ that would be forever imprinted in your arm.

“So when did you escape? What’s your name?” He asked curiously.

“I think I was around eleven years old,” You recalled, mind flashing back to that day. You picked up one of the drawings that Hopper had set down, the distraction stilling your trembling hand. “So around six years ago. I found out that my name, my real name, is Y/N. But my parents are both dead.”

“That long ago, huh?” He asked, sounding surprised. “Sorry about your parents, kid.”

You gave him a bemused smile and shrugged. “ I never knew them anyways. And what, you thought Eleven was the only experiment? Or that she was the first to escape?”

He gave a half chuckle. “I guess not. What can you do?”

“Telekinesis, like El,” You said, making one of the drawings hover to demonstrate, “and mind control, to put it simply. It’s why you don’t remember me.”

“Wait - we’ve met before?” Hopper demanded.

“Yes,” You said calmly, ignoring his affronted look. “Briefly. You were a cop, I couldn’t risk you remembering me. It’s nothing personal, but at the time I didn’t know if I could trust you or not. Now, what are these drawings?”

“They’re Will’s,” Joyce explained. “He has these… these memories, but they’re not his memories. He can’t describe it, but he can draw it.”

“Yeah, the problem is that all he’s drawing are a bunch of scribbles,” Hopper said, sighing and sitting down on the couch.

“Hmm…” You mused, turning the drawing you held around in your hand. “It doesn’t look like much of anything. Has he drawn them all with the same colors?”

“Wait,” Joyce said suddenly, taking some of the papers.

Hopper furrowed his brows. “What?”

“These black lines, see?” She brought together two of the drawings.

“What?” Hopper asked as you walked over to see.

“They connect,” You supplied for her.

“They connect!” Joyce exclaimed.

“It’s not just scribbles,” Hopper muttered. “C’mon, lets move this stuff out of the way. Can you use your mind powers, Y/N?”

“My head is killing me, but I can try,” You said.

“In that case, don’t worry about it,” Hopper dismissed your offer. “With whatever’s going down, we need you in top shape.”

He shoved the coffee table and television back against the wall with a grunt, and the three of you started dropping the drawings on the floor, trying to figure out where they connected. It took a while, but eventually the three of you managed to connect everything that Will had drawn thus far.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Hopper asked, staring down at it.

“No,” Joyce said, frustrated. “Is it some sort of maze, or a road? It’s sort of forking and branching, like… like lightening.”

“You think it’s that storm?” Hopper asked.

You gnawed on your lip, thinking. “I don’t think it’s a storm.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing like the storm he drew. He used red,” Joyce agreed, following after the police chief. “This is all blue, and has this weird dirt color. Maybe it’s roots.”

“Roots…” You whispered. Stretching, reaching out ever farther, stemming out from one singular source.

“’Cause, remember he was saying it was spreading, and…”

“Killing,” Hopper finished. “He said they were killing.”

The answer hit you in the face. There was something else that had been spreading out - the rot. And you’d bet money that the rot and Will’s drawings were connected. “They aren’t roots.”

“They’re vines,” Hopper realized, grabbing his coat and hat. “He’s drawing vines.”

“Hopper, wait!” She said, watching him in confusion as he sped away. “Where’s he going?”

“I’m not sure,” You admitted. “But I have to leave too.”

“What? Why?”

“You saw what happened to me with Will. The shadow monster, whatever it is, is extremely powerful. Strong enough that he almost got control of me, too. And if that were to happen, it’d be game over,” You explained. “He’d be unstoppable. For your own safety, I have to leave.”

“Where are you going to go?” She asked.

“Don’t worry, I have a place where I’ve been staying,” You assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

You grabbed your coat and said your goodbyes, waving to Mike as he biked by, presumably to check on his friend. You didn’t want to stay in the house you had been squatting in for the rest of the day, but your head was still pounding and you knew you needed rest. You made the decision to check on Will again in the morning - but you had the sinking feeling that he would only get worse.

You barely remembered putting down your head when you got back to the place you were staying, and you slept soundly through the night and well into the following day. Your watch hands read 2:17 PM, and you sat straight up with a curse. You hadn’t wanted to sleep in that late, but apparently you had needed the rest. Your mental power struggle with the shadow monster must have tired you out more than you thought, considering you had slept nearly 24 hours.

You straightened your hair and clothes before leaving, making sure to grab the map that you had discarded on the floor sometime last night. Jogging down the road, you reached the suburbs of the town within twenty minutes. You slowed, breath steaming up in the cold air. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N!” You heard yelling from up the road, and made out the figure of Lucas as the boy rode closer on his bike.

“Hey, Lucas,” You greeted as he slowed to a stop. “What’s up?”

“We have a really, really, really big problem,” He panted. “Dustin radioed me while I was out talking with Max, and he said Dart had grown up again. He’s not just any monster from the Upside Down - Dustin adopted a baby demogorgon.”

“Of course he did,” You muttered. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah. He and Steve Harrington are making a trap for Dart. I have to make a stop before I get to the junkyard,” Lucas said. “That’s where I’m meeting them. You in?”

“You don’t give me much of a choice,” You said. “So yeah, I’m in. Somebody has to look after you idiots. What’s the quick stop?”

“I’m picking up Max. I told her about what happened with Will last year and she didn’t believe me. So I’m going to prove it,” Lucas said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” You asked, jogging along behind him as he biked.

“Look, she practically hates me right now,” The boy said. “If I show her this, she’ll know I wasn’t lying.”

“There’s really no stopping you, is there?” You asked, shaking your head as he slowed down.

“Nope. This is her house. Take my bike and wheel it around that side,” Lucas said, pointing down the left side of the house. “I just hopes she answers the door and not her asshole brother, Billy.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. Now, just go wait over there,” He said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

“Fine,” You sighed, wheeling his bike around the side of the house and waiting impatiently. A couple minutes later he sprinted around the house, out of breath.

“Here, the bike, give me the bike,” He said quickly, as the redheaded girl you had asked directions from the other day opened the window. Lucas waved her over. “Come on, hop on! Hurry.”

The redhead - Max, you reminded yourself - climbed out the window, swinging herself on to the bike with a curious glance in your direction. “This better be good, stalker. Who’s she, anyways?”

“She’s…” Lucas trailed off. You gave him a slight nod, wordlessly allowing him to tell Max about you. “That’s Ten. She’s from the lab too, just like Eleven.”

“You can call me Y/N, though,” You interjected.

“You probably could have started with that,” She quipped. You liked her already. Lucas waved you on, and the next moment you were running after his bike once more, panting as you tried to keep up. Fortunately, he wasn’t going too fast with Max’s added weight. It took the three of you half an hour to reach the junkyard, and you were wishing you had thought to bring some water.

Max climbed off as soon as he had slowed to a stop, eyes drawn to Dustin and the teenager that you realized must be Steve - yet another person that would have to be in on your secret.

“I said medium well!” Lucas yelled, waving at the two.

It was clear that Steve was confused about you and Max - though perhaps you, most of all - and it didn’t take long for him to strike up a conversation with you. “I’m Steve, by the way. And you are?”

“Y/N,” You said, tossing him a small sheet of metal. “Nice bat.”

“Thanks. I’ve never seen you around before, are you new in town, or like homeschooled, or something?” He asked curiously, the two of you reinforcing the sides of the bus.

You let out a huff of laughter. “Not exactly. You’ve heard about Eleven, right?”

“Yeah, that kid that escaped from the lab? Nancy told me all about it,” He said. You wondered who Nancy was, but decided against asking. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m Ten,” You said briefly, watching his mouth form an ‘O’ of realization.

“No kidding,” Steve said, sounding slightly impressed. “So you’ve got those, uh, freaky mind powers too, huh?”

You let out a bark of laughter. There was something about the teenager that just put you at ease, and you had a feeling the two of you would get along fine. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. I’ve got telekinesis, like El, and mind control.”

“Mind control? You’re not, uh, controlling me right now, are you?” He asked, sounding slightly more guarded than before.

“No,” You said, shooting him a smile and noticing how he visibly relaxed. “You’d know if I was.”

“Oh. Good.” He struggled to lift one of the heavier sheets of metal.

“Here, move. I’ve got it,” You told him, waiting for Steve to step clear before stretching out your hand, using your powers to lift the sheet. It wasn’t much exertion - telekinesis wasn’t difficult for you anymore. It was silent mind control that still gave you trouble. It had to be practiced in order to be improved upon like most things, but it was something you had neglected over the years.

“Whoa,” Steve and Max said in unison, staring at you.

She shot you a smile as he walked off to get more metal. “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” You agreed, grinning back.

A loud clang of metal-on-metal made you jump, and you turned to see Steve staring impatiently at Lucas and Dustin. “Hey! Dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out is Y/N and this random girl?” You and Max shared amused smiles as the teenager gestured towards you. “We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go!” Lucas and Dustin started following after Steve. “Let’s go, I said!”

“Alright, asshole!” Dustin snapped.

Lucas sounded equally annoyed. “Okay, stupid!”

“Steve’s right,” You said, sending the two boys a look. “We’re in a race against time here, and unless you want to be a demogorgon snack I suggest we start getting a move-on.”

Steve was right about losing light - within forty minutes, the five of you had managed to reinforce the bus as the sun sank low, casting long shadows across the ground. You just hoped that it would be enough. And so your waiting game began.

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