#might make more to help me cope with melissa's firing
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i call this the saga of me editing billy into the scream requels.
#& gaslight gatekeep ghostface ( ooc )#& graphic design is my passion ( my edits )#this are real#they happened#idk a canon scream#my version is better#might make more to help me cope with melissa's firing#living in delulu land rn#DO NOT REBLOG#I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!#DO NOT REBLOG THIS POST
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So Close - S.S V
Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.
Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12
Word-count: 4.9k+
A/N: Aaaannnddd that’s a wrap on Season 2!! I’ve had so much fun writing this series and I’m looking forward to Season 3!! Let me know if you have any requests or critiques :) Enjoy!!
To say Melissa had been distant since that night was an understatement. When the three of you got home, there had been yelling and crying, and scratchy voices pleading for forgiveness. You weren’t sure if anyone actually slept after everything you’d all been through; you hadn’t. And you didn’t the next night either. On the third night, you’d just about given up.
You pushed your covers aside and changed into running clothes. Your lungs were on fire and your legs were aching as you pushed forward. You still weren’t where you needed to be, but as soon as you stopped in front of the Stilinski household, you knew. You made your way to the back of the house and started climbing the trellis next to Stiles’ room. He was still up. You tapped the window and watched him make his way over.
“Hey.” He sounded breathless and he looked confused. ���What are you doing here?” He was frowning, but reached his arms out and helped you inside nonetheless.
“I couldn’t sleep after…” You trailed off and took a breath before clarifying, “I can’t sleep.” You shook your head and put a hand to your temple. “I shouldn’t have come. This is stupid. I'm sorry. I-”
“Hey, stop talking.” You looked up at Stiles, confused. He opened his arms and pulled you into a hug. “Come here. This isn’t stupid.” You started breathing deeply, trying to focus on anything other than the panic building in your chest. His room smelled like old books and too many half-eaten midnight snacks, and you guessed Stiles’ had just showered because he and his clothes smelled like rain and fabric softener.
“You know I- I close my eyes and start sleeping and I just- I can feel his claws wrapping around my neck. And I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, Stiles.” The words started tumbling out and you couldn't stop. “I know it’s overdramatic, but I can’t stop it. And I’m so tired of trying. I’m so-”
“Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You can breathe.” Stiles held you a little tighter for a moment before guiding you to the bed. He sat next to you and held your hand, moving his thumb gently back and forth over the top. You didn’t realize you were shaking until he kept still. “Y/N, how long has it been since you slept?”
“Not that long.”
“Alright, how long is ‘not that long?’”
“This is the third night that I can’t sleep.” Your voice was so quiet, but once you admitted it, you felt lighter. And you knew Stiles would understand, because you used to stay up with him when he couldn’t sleep.
Stiles took a deep breath, seemingly mulling over his options. “If you stay here, can I give you some sleeping pills?” You were about to protest when he went on. “You know it’s the only way I can let you stay. Otherwise, your mom will kick my ass.”
You smiled sadly and dropped your gaze to where your hands interlaced with his. “She hasn’t been doing much ass-kicking lately.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed and then tried again. “Stay so I can take care of you? Please?”
You turned to look at him and, after a few seconds, you nodded. You pressed your forehead to his temple and rested your chin on his shoulder. You’re not sure if the lack of sleep was making you honest, but before you could stop it, the words tumbled out in a sleepy haze. “I think I love you, Stiles.”
“Woah, easy there, McCall,” he teased. You moved so you weren’t facing him so directly anymore. “People might think you have feelings.” You smiled but your heart panged. He didn’t love you.
At some point, Stiles got up and came back with medicine and water. You don’t remember taking it, and you can barely remember when Stiles got into the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. You can’t remember when you put your hand to Stiles jaw and pulled your face into his neck. Or when he had his hand in your hair and kissed your forehead. Or even when, long after you’d both been lying there for an hour, Stiles took a deep breath and told you he loved you, too.
---
You sat cross-legged on the floor of your bedroom, books muddled around you like a tornado had gone through your backpack. Isaac laid across your bed, reading a book for English class - why he was doing that when he and the others were in hiding, you weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. Regardless, you were just happy he was back in your life.
“Erica and Boyd are leaving tonight,” he said casually, flipping to the next page. He looked at you cautiously but he’d shied away by the time you looked up at him with a frown on your face.
“Where are they going?” you asked and capped your highlighter. “Are you going with?”
Isaac sighed and closed the book. He looked at you before answering, “I don’t know. They said they found a new pack, but I … I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You nodded and looked down at your study notes. All the studying in the world couldn’t distract from the danger that surrounded your friends. “What do you think I should do?”
You looked up with a small smile. “Honestly? I think you should talk to Scott. I’m too close to this to tell you what you need to hear … but, for what it’s worth, I think you should stay.”
He nodded and went back to his book. You looked at him for a bit longer before returning to your notes. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before Isaac started shifting around on your bed, eventually clearing his throat to get your attention.
“Yes?” you arched an eyebrow at him. When he sang out that it was nothing you rolled your eyes. “Isaac, you’ve been squirming for like fifteen minutes. What’s up?”
He sighed and laid his head back dramatically. “It’s just … why do you smell like Stiles?”
You blinked a few times and pulled your legs into your chest. “I do not,” you said defensively, pushing your books away.
Isaac laughed and looked at you. “Yeah, you do,” he said with an annoying smirk.
“No. I don’t,” you told him and stood up. He wasn’t speaking but he was giving you an annoying, knowing look. So you threw a pen at him. “Shut up.”
“Mm-hmm.” He’d caught your pen and was twirling it around in his fingers. He took a few dramatic sniffs of the air and hummed, “Definitely doesn’t smell like old lacrosse gear and teenage angst in here.”
“You’re a real jerk, you know that?” you narrowed your eyes and pulled him to his feet. “Go harass my brother and leave me alone.” Isaac laughed as you used your entire body weight to push him out the door.
“Oh, one more thing,” he added, leaning his weight back and almost arching over you. You huffed in response. “If I can smell it, I can almost guarantee Scott and the others can too.” Mortified, you slammed the door in his face and leaned against it to gather yourself. You listened to him laugh as he walked down the hallway and out of your house. Damn werewolf senses.
---
With everything that was going, you hardly felt like sitting through a lacrosse game, but this was the first contact between Melissa and Scott that she’d initiated since that night, so you wanted to be supportive. And since you and Stiles had basically moved in together at night, you figured you had to start being there for him during the day too.
“Oh no.” You looked up when you heard Noah’s voice. He looked dazed as he stared out at the field. “Why is my son running on the field?”
“Because he’s on the team…?” Melissa’s answer sounded like a question, but you’d gathered from the few lacrosse games you’d seen that Stiles was largely the team bench-warmer. However, the unsure answer was all the confirmation Noah needed.
“He’s on the team. He- he’s on the field,” he nodded as he spoke and then stood up. “My son is on the field!” he cheered. You laughed lightly at his display of pride but the game hadn’t started yet, so you and Melissa were the only other people in the stands who cared.
You’d zoned out for most of the game, but you looked up when you noticed someone standing next to you. “This seat taken?” Lydia smiled, pointing to the empty spot next to you.
“I was hoping you’d show,” you said as you pulled her into a hug. The two of you had grown a lot closer since her party; all the whispered conversations about what was going on and the ice cream shared over her breakup had added up. The two of you talked for a while until Stiles managed to get the ball. He got tackled almost immediately and you winced.
“He’s probably just warming up,” Melissa offered hopefully. You looked over and Noah didn’t seem to buy it, so you and Lydia echoed similar agreements to boost his confidence.
The next time he fumbled for the ball, two other players hit him. All four of you seemed to feel that one. “Oh, he’s just a little nervous.” Lydia waved it off. “Plenty of time to turn it around.” Although that was true, you felt your confidence slipping when he got hit in the head by the ball and the crowd started booing him.
You saw Isaac striding onto the field and lifted your head. He talked to Scott before joining the rest of the team on the field game, and they’d clearly come up with some kind of plan because Isaac started taking out the other Beacon Hills players. Were they trying to get him off the bench? Whatever it was, you hoped Isaac would at least go easy on Stiles.
Your fears didn’t add up to much, because once Scott was on the field Isaac went down. Jackson must have gotten him; he’d have healed otherwise. You were going to go with when they put him on the gurney, but Lydia reached for your hand. “Where are you going?” she frowned.
“Uh,” you glanced at them wheeling Isaac away and decided that Scott would have signaled you if he was in any danger. “Nowhere.” You smiled and shifted your attention to the field, sitting back down. It was a good thing you stayed too, otherwise, you’d have missed Stiles actually making a goal. Or three.
Everyone cheered when the buzzer rang out. Beacon Hills had won! And it was because of Stiles! The victory was short-lived once the lights cut out and the field was plunged into darkness, screaming, and the sound of running. You broke free of Lydia’s grip and went to find Stiles. When the lights came on and they found a body, you raced over, wedging yourself between Scott and Isaac. It was Jackson, thank God.
“Scott, I can’t find Stiles,” you breathed, pulling on his uniform to get his attention.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Scott said, brushing you off. “Jackson’s the one we need to worry about right now.” You reluctantly nodded, but when Noah started wandering around the field calling for his son, you knew you shouldn’t have.
---
You waited outside the boys’ locker room for Scott and Isaac, but when Noah came out your heart sank. You went inside hesitantly, covering your eyes until the sound of crunching metal met your ears. You pulled your hand away and stared at Scott, who had ripped Stiles’ locker off its hinges. “Jesus, Scott,” you exhaled as you made your way closer to the pair. “How are you gonna explain that one?”
“We’ll figure something out,” he mumbled and started digging through the locker, moving things out of the way until he found some clothes.
“You’re gonna find him by scent?” Isaac asked doubtfully.
“Yeah, we both are.” Scott handed Isaac a shoe before turning to face the group.
“But how come you get a shirt and I get a shoe?” Isaac questioned. They were both squinting at their items when you looked over their shoulders to find Derek standing there with someone.
You tapped their shoulders and pointed to the new members. “Uh, guys … I think we’ve got bigger problems.” They both turned to look at what you were gesturing to.
“We need to talk,” Derek told them.
“All of us,” the new person added. He had an annoyingly smug face and Scott seemed tense. You looked over at Isaac for context, but he seemed as confused as you were about who the new guy was.
“Holy shit,” Scott breathed. He started moving closer to Derek and you hurried to get between them. They wouldn’t hurt you. Probably. “What the hell is this?”
“You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the Sheriff’s Station.” Derek’s voice was snippy and you could tell he was upset, too. You hadn’t known that Scott and Gerard were talking, but you assumed he knew what he was doing.
“Okay, hold on,” Scott started, still moving closer. You held a hand out to keep him in place. “He- he threatened to kill my mom. And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?”
“I’m gonna go with Scott on this one,” the stranger piped in. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Have you seen his mom?” he asked Isaac. Isaac gaped at him. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Shut up!” you yelled in unison with Scott and Derek. “Who is this guy?” you waved your hand in his direction.
“He’s Peter. Derek’s uncle,” Scott explained. “Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat.”
“Hi,” Peter waved. You and Isaac shared an apprehensive look that best friends know all too well.
“Good to know,” Isaac responded and smiled at him. You rolled your eyes.
“Then shouldn’t he be dead?” you asked, looking back at Derek for confirmation.
“Look, the short version is: He knows how to stop Jackson,” Derek told Scott, completely ignoring your question. You cocked your head to the side when he ignored you - he’d never done that before. “And maybe how to save him.”
“Well, that’s very helpful. Except that Jackson’s dead,” Isaac replied.
“What?”
“Yeah, Jackson’s dead. It just happened on the field.” Scott confirmed Isaac’s story. You felt a bit sick when it actually clicked in your mind. You’d been too worried about Stiles to realize that your friend was dead.
“Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Isaac broke the new-found silence.
“Because if Jackson is dead,” Peter started explaining like it was the most obvious thing, “It didn’t just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen.”
“But why?” Derek asked.
“Well, that’s exactly what we need to figure out,” Peter said with a smile. You wanted to punch him as he walked closer to your brother. “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly.”
---
Even though you wanted to be out looking for Stiles, Isaac convinced you that, with Jackson dead, he was probably safer wherever he was. That’s how you ended up at the Hale house looking for information about what to do with all of them. The place gave you the creeps but you visibly relaxed when Scott told you they’d found Stiles.
“Look, I told you, I looked everywhere.” Derek’s voice snapped you out of your momentary comfort.
“You didn’t look here.” Peter removed one of the side panels of the stairs and took out a dusty old box.
“What is that? A book?” Derek seemed surprisingly defensive when he realized there were parts of the house he hadn’t searched.
“No,” Peter scoffed. “It’s a laptop. What century are you living in?” Derek looked like he was going to put him through the stairs, but Peter kept talking so he didn’t have the chance. “A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.”
---
“What’s happening to him?” Scott asked. The four of you were peering over at Jackson’s weird goop.
“I don’t know!” Melissa yelled quietly. “I thought that you were gonna tell me! Is it bad?” She turned to face Scott, panic evident on her face.
“Well, it doesn’t look good,” Isaac mumbled and you hit his arm lightly and gave him a look.
“It’s like he’s cocooning. You know, like a caterpillar,” you offered, shrugging your shoulders slightly.
“You’re saying he’s gonna have wings?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t know!” you snapped. Jackson started moving and you all moved back, making various noises of surprise.
“Um, Mom, could you zip it up, please?” Scott asked and you stared at him.
“What the big bad werewolf can’t zip it up?” you whisper-yelled at him. Melissa agreed to do it and moved closer to the body again. The bag got stuck right underneath his chin. Scott’s eyes widened and you grabbed his hand reflexively, but when Jackson’s mouth opened and he started hissing, you ran forward to help your mom.
“Mom. Zip,” Scott begged. You helped her zip it up, all the while fearing you’d lose a hand. The four of you shared a terrified look when it was over, and Isaac was the first one to laugh. Soon all four of you were laughing at the absurdity of the situation, but you all fell silent when Jackson started moving again.
Scott called Derek as you all huddled in the corner. Jackson was waking up and you pocketed some of the sharpest medical equipment you saw when no one was looking. They came to the agreement to meet up halfway and you, Scott, and Isaac hurried to move the body before he woke up.
---
Chris ended up driving you to the warehouse that you guessed represented halfway. Why there were so many empty buildings in Beacon Hills was beyond you. “I think he stopped moving,” Isaac said once everyone was out of the car. You shuddered at the phantom feeling of the body bag moving between the two of you in the backseat.
“Where’s Derek?” Chris asked. He must have been waiting for you guys because no sooner than when the question was out could Derek be seen making arguably the most dramatic entrance you’d ever seen. After exchanging words with Chris, he told you to get Jackson inside.
Scott asked where Peter and Lydia were once everything was set, but Derek either didn’t seem to understand or he didn’t care. He told him that we were past saving Jackson. Scott started protesting but Derek snapped at him.
“Think about Scott!” he yelled. “Alright? Gerard controls him now. He’s turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog. And he set all of this in motion so that Jackson could get even bigger and more powerful!”
“No,” Chris shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t do that. If Jackson’s a dog, he’s turning rabid. And my father wouldn’t let a rabid dog live.”
“Of course not.” Gerard’s voice rang out through the warehouse. “Anything that dangerous, that out of control … is better off dead.”
Derek didn’t hesitate once he saw Gerard. He moved to slash Jackson’s throat, but Jackson woke up and put his claws through Derek’s stomach. He held Derek up as he stood and tossed him to the other side of the warehouse.
“Well done to the last, Scott,” Gerard praised as he sauntered over. “Like the concerned friend you are, you brought Jackson to Derek to save him. You just didn’t realize that you were also bringing Derek to me.”
Scott ducked as an arrow flew out and hit Isaac in the shoulder. You caught him as he fell and dragged him to a safer place. “It’s okay,” you whispered. He was groaning. “This is gonna hurt,” you told him and pulled the arrow out of his chest. He cried out but at least he’d be able to heal now. Gunshots rang out in the other section of the warehouse and you could hear glass shattering and Jackson hissing.
You smiled at Isaac and kept pressure on his wound. You had no idea what else to do; you were the human knife at a supernatural gunfight. “Is it healing?” you asked. He nodded in response and moved to get up. When Derek roared, he started turning and he was quick to his feet.
“Stay out of this,” he warned. You were going to argue but he was already headed to the fight. The werewolves still frightened, but you didn’t exactly feel like being strangled by Jackson again, so you went to find a new hiding spot.
You didn’t expect to find Allison though. You shared a look before she raised her bow at you. “What? You’re gonna shoot me too?” you scoffed, moving slowly for the hospital blade in your pocket without her realizing.
“If I have to,” she answered. She was so cold. So distant. What happened to her?
“Allison, I’m your friend,” you said, inching closer once your hand was around the handle of whatever medical knife you’d stolen. “I’m human.”
“Not when you’re with them.” She turned and shot another arrow at Isaac. She kept shooting as she moved closer and you threw your blade at her. You watched it slice through the air, only to ricochet off Jackson’s reptilian back. He grabbed Allison and stopped her from killing Isaac. You would’ve been thankful under different circumstances.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” Gerard told her as he emerged from the darkness. Allison was gasping for air as Jackson’s hand snaked around her neck. You recoiled at the all too familiar feeling.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“He’s doing what he came here to do,” Scott told her. You slowly made your way closer to the group.
“Then you know,” Gerard looked at Scott.
“What’s he talking about?” Allison asked her grandfather. Her voice was quiet but frantic.
“It was the night outside the hospital, wasn’t it?” Gerard speculated, ignoring Allison. “When I threatened your mother? I knew I saw something in your eyes. You could just smell it, couldn’t you?”
“He’s dying,” Isaac said simply. He was human and kneeling now. You crouched beside him and put an arm around him, trying to get him away from this.
“I am,” Gerard said. “I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn’t have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does.”
Allison gasped and Jackson tightened his grip around her throat. “You monster,” Chris spat.
“Not yet,” Gerard replied. Like he’d made a joke.
“What are you doing?” Allison yelled, trying desperately to get out without Jackson killing her.
“You’ll kill her too?” Chris cried.
“When it comes to survival, I’d kill my own son.” Gerard turned his attention to your brother and nodded, like he’d given him an order. “Scott.”
Scott moved closer to where Derek had collapsed on the floor during the fight. He was still mostly paralyzed but he was begging Scott not to do it. Gerard was manipulating the conversation and you watched as Scott pried open Derek’s mouth and made him bite Gerard. But the wound wasn’t healing - it was dripping black blood.
“What did you do?” Gerard asked, venom dripping in his voice.
“Everyone said Gerard always had a plan,” Scott explained with all eyes on him. “I had a plan too.”
Gerard checked his pills and crushed them in his hand. “Mountain Ash!” he yelled. The black blood started dripping from his nose and eyes as he fell to his knees. You gagged and hid your face in Isaac’s shoulder to block it out, but you could still hear him choking on it. When his body fell to the floor, the warehouse was silent except for Derek asking why Scott hadn’t told him. Scott told him that just because he was an alpha, it didn’t make him his alpha.
Gerard started crawling and sputtering again and your eyes drifted to him. “Kill them,” he told Jackson. “Kill them all!”
Jackson loosened his grip on Allison as he tried to adjust to his new order, and she used that moment to elbow him in the face before running away. Something barrelled through the walls of the warehouse and you pulled Isaac to his feet and out of the way. It was the Jeep. It was Stiles.
He hit Jackson with his car and slammed on the brakes. That didn’t keep him down though, and he jumped on the hood of the car and hissed at them. Stiles got out and raced towards the group, but Lydia got out and stood in front of Jackson, holding a key out to him. He paused and looked at it, recognizing something. The scales started to fade and reveal his face. He took the key and started backing away from her, which left him open to an attack from Derek. You watched as he and Peter held Jackson up by their claws and then as Jackson collapsed when the two released him.
Lydia rushed forward and held onto him as he fell to the floor, but she didn’t make it in time. It looked like Jackson was dead. You looked over and saw Scott and Allison interlace their hands. A glance at Stiles showed that he was crying. Gerard had fled. Isaac was moving closer to Derek. And then Jackson started waking up and turned into a werewolf. Lydia darted closer and wrapped her arms around him. The beauty of this moment was kind of crushed when Stiles started skulking over to his Jeep, mumbling something about it being scratched.
---
You’d try to scrub off the image of Gerard spraying black blood everywhere and the feeling of the kanima choking you when you showered, but all that resulted in was some very red, very angry skin. Afterwards, you curled in bed with a Netflix series to calm down and take your mind off things. With the way you were feeling, you could tell it would be a long while until you’d be able to sleep.
After about an hour, you went down to grab some water and padded back up to your room. You could hear something inside but you knew Scott was in his room and Melissa was asleep. You swapped your glass for the baseball bat in the hallway and gingerly made your way over, raising the bat as you got closer. Someone was leaning over your desk, looking through your things.
“Hey, these are actually pretty good.” You blinked as you registered that it was just Stiles snooping through your old books and not an actual threat.
“Any reason for breaking and entering tonight?” you asked, lowering the bat and leaning it against your bedside table.
“Yeah, I was-” Stiles turned and scoffed when he saw the baseball bat. “The bat? Seriously? Does anyone in this house even play baseball?”
“Softball. I won the family game at the Sheriff’s department for your dad. Remember?” You folded your arms over your chest. “Your turn to answer a question.”
“No, I don’t remember.” When you didn’t respond to his joke, Stiles sighed and looked away. “You didn’t come over … It got late and I was worried.” That made you soften slightly, and you took a breath and closed your door. After a week of sneaking into his room at night - and considering how you’d shown up the first time - it wasn’t hard to believe that he got worried when you didn’t show.
“I just thought…” You grasped for the words. How could you explain that you didn’t want to spend the night with him anymore because it gave you hope that you’d be something other than friends? And how it hurt to see him pining over Lydia when they saved Jackson? “I thought maybe we could use some time apart.”
“Oh.” Stiles took a breath and sat on your desk. He looked confused and you didn’t know what to say to make it better without telling him how you felt about him. The confusion gave way to something a bit harsher. “Yeah, okay. I get how the whole setup - a setup that, uh, you created, by the way - could be weird.”
“That I created?” you echoed.
“Well, you showed up at my house. Remember?”
“Yeah, kind of like you did now.” You were unnecessarily defensive, and clearly Stiles caught onto that.
“Look, I didn’t mean-” he sighed and rubbed the side of his face. “I’m just gonna let myself out. Wouldn’t want to spend too much time with my best friend or anything.” He pushed himself off the desk and started making his way to the door. Which you were blocking.
“Stiles, that’s not what I meant. I-”
“It’s fine, okay? I get it. I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Stiles said as he moved around you, very careful not to make any physical contact as he did. You didn’t turn when you heard him open the door to leave or when it closed behind him, not even when the tears started spilling down your cheeks or when it felt like your heart splintered into a million tiny pieces.
Part 6
#stiles stilinski#stiles stilinksi x reader#stiles slow burn#stiles stilinksi imagine#mccall!reader#so close#teen wolf#teen wolf au#teen wolf rewrite
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Cloak and Dagger - ‘Restless Energy’ Review
"I like this. You and me. Going out. Doing good. Best we can."
Cloak and Dagger are back, and as you might have heard, season two is going to be Mayhem. But not quite yet.
It still seems hard to believe that we're getting a second season of Cloak and Dagger. Fifteen year old me would never have believed that this day would come. And as a bonus, going by this episode, season two is maintaining the impressive level of quality with which season one spoiled us.
A quick note up front – Freeform aired the first two episodes back to back as a 'two hour premiere' event. I'm reviewing the two episodes here separately, partially because they appear to be two separate episodes from a storytelling perspective, but mostly because I'm pedantic enough that I can't bear the thought of not having separate individual review links under the episode listing on the show page.
I realize that that's a ridiculous thing to care about, but the voices reassure me that it's not a sign of any serious mental issues, so there it is.
As a result, I haven't yet watched the second episode as of my writing this and so if any questions I raise here are answered in the second episode I beg your indulgence.
Second season premiere's are difficult. Season one finales tend to have more complete closure than finales of other seasons because you're never sure whether or not the show is going to get picked up for a second year. The end of Buffy's first season and beginning of its second is a good illustration of this issue. So, not only do you have the usual season opener need to re-introduce your characters and general premise, you also have to begin you story with, '...but wait, there's more...' and that can be tricky.
Season one of Cloak and Dagger leaned heavily into the 'Divine Pairing' take on Ty and Tandy's relationship. It was the story of how their powers brought them together for that one specific incident, so that they could save the city. That's a different story than bringing them together to become a crimefighting duo of superheroes, in that the 'becoming heroes' storyline is open ended and the 'becoming the mechanism that saves the city' is a one time event that happens and then is done.
The C & D writing room dealt with this by leaning into it and making that the point of the episode, which was a good decision. Ty and Tandy, and to a lesser degree Brigid, are essentially hanging around and thinking 'OK, now what do I do?' Ty and Tandy are both dealing with the titular restless energy by going out and making little vigilante runs at night; Ty by hitting drug gangs and stealing their product and money, Tandy by identifying abusive partners and terrorizing them. That's very in character for both of them, and hey – how about the way that they allowed Tandy enough self awareness to understand that she was really lashing out because she's still dealing with the knowledge that her dad was an abuser. Tandy is in a fascinating place at the moment, emotionally speaking. The domestic abuse therapy group she and her mom are attending appears to be genuinely helping her, and we see several examples of her actively engaging with it and doing the work for herself, but she hasn't been magically 'fixed' by it. Her first instinct is still to run away when she feels emotionally vulnerable, and we see her do that twice this week, once with her mom and once with Ty.
I can't overstate how refreshing it is to see a show portray abuse, therapy and recovery realistically as the complicated and messy process it is, right down to the way that it appears Melissa Bowen seems to be leaning into therapy as a sort of 'replacement drug,' devoting all the energy she used to give to drinking and pills to the therapy process. That's a very real thing, and it was nicely understated here. Also realistic was the way that Tandy's attempts to punish Jeremy the abusive boyfriend only resulted in his girlfriend becoming more dedicated to staying in the abusive relationship.
In fact, Ty and Tandy's attempts to help other people this week rebound in unpleasant ways all over the place this week. Ty's laudable desire to use his powers to get drugs and the dealers thereof off the streets only results in making the gang he didn't hit more powerful and dangerous, and his attempts to fix that error result in his completely screwing up the official investigation that Brigid had been running to try and take them down. Like Tandy's attempts to scare abusive partners, lack of focus on the big picture is undermining their attempts to be a force for good.
This is nicely set up by the ballet teacher's chastisement of Tandy not focusing on what she was spotting as she did whatever those ballet spinny things are called. Neither Ty or Tandy has been watching their spot as they spin, and as a result they're not getting anywhere. The show has retained its love of visual metaphors, clearly.
One last word about Ty and Tandy. I really love how real and comfortable their friendship is at this point, with the movie nights in the church, and her kind offer to steal him t-shirts and underwear. Even when they fought in this episode, it was clearly a fight between close friends, and not some kind of 'our friendship is over' blowout. This is a big part of why I hope that they don't make Ty and Tandy a romantic couple. There are just so few positive examples of non-romantic friendship between men and women out there.
And finally, Brigid O'Reilly. It's a little odd that she's back at the police force without serious issues after everything that went down last season, but we only see her at the firing range and not at the department proper, so we'll have to wait and see how her work relationships are currently doing. It was a little surprising that she didn't start out as Mayhem, since that was the way we last saw her as she climbed out of the lake, but New Orleans appears to be heavy into 'we'll seed your powers now, and then get around to activating them at some point in the future,' and in any case, it made the massacre in the final scene a nice payoff to our expectations. We are all assuming that that was Mayhem, right? So, is Mayhem a Jeckyl and Hyde thing, or can she control the transformation, or what? I've been avoiding being spoiled on this on social media, and as I said I haven't watched the second episode yet. Perhaps this question has already been answered.
Bits and Pieces:
-- I really like what they're doing with Ty's teleportation effect, and I get that they were establishing that he's been practicing, but I hope they don't make the mistake of thinking of him as just a teleporter. Teleporting is the least interesting part of his powers.
-- Brigid told Ty that unless Connors resurfaces it will be hard to get him cleared for Fuchs' murder. I wonder if they're setting up Ty trying to rescue Connors from the dark dimension inside him. Is that the way that we're going to see Tandy going into the dark dimension? Am I just fanboy dreaming?
-- I like the detail that they watch movies on VHS. It's an abandoned church, it makes sense that there would be an old VCR somewhere. It's a little odd that the electricity is still on, though.
-- The effect of Tandy's light knives gouging the walls was particularly well done.
-- Are ballet teachers actually that mean, or is that just a movie and TV thing? Anyone know?
-- Andrea Roth consistently brings a little extra something to every scene she's in.
-- Hopefully we'll get to see Evita properly sooner rather than later. And Mina. And Ty's parents. And I still miss Liam.
-- There was a nice detail when Ty is describing watching Evita get hit on and refers to her having 'rebuffed' the guy. He has such a prep school vocabulary. It's clearly deliberately done, because none of the other characters talk that way. Very nice and subtle.
-- Also nicely done is the way the camera work is developing little tricks to show Ty's appearances and disappearances. They're finding a lot of clever and inexpensive ways to move the camera so that his coming or going looks astonishing, but in reality is very simply achieved. I specifically liked the way his weight shifted the car's balance when he appeared in Brigid's back seat.
-- Did Ty want his physics books so that he could do his schoolwork as a coping mechanism for being isolated, or is he researching the physics of what happened to him and how his powers work?
-- Lots of nice detail work in the drug processing houses. The set dressers really put some effort in.
-- Newton's second law of thermodynamics gets a curious amount of love in genre fiction. I'm betting someone on the writing staff has seen 'Logopolis.'
Quotes:
Girl in therapy: "Kinda sucks when your livelihood relies on being nice to people." Tandy: "Yeah. That’s why I got into roller derby."
Ty: "Note to self. Tandy has no idea what studying is." Tandy: "Solitude has made you sassy."
Tandy: "Note to self – You’re still a horrible liar."
Tandy: "Not to rookie-mistake you, but marking up a map of the city is extremely nerdy, and kinda damning as well."
Tandy: "It’s possible I’m not over my dad the way I wish I was over my dad."
Ty: "You know I don’t drink." Tandy: "Ah, that’s OK. I can drink for the both of us."
A great start to the second season, and hopefully an indicator of the quality to come. Now bring on the Mayhem.
Three and a half out of four VHS tapes.
Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.
#Cloak and Dagger#Marvel's Cloak and Dagger#Tandy Bowen#Tyrone Johnson#Brigid O'Reilly#Mayhem#Marvel Cinematic Universe#Cloak and Dagger Reviews#Doux Reviews#TV Reviews
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Unbreakable Shield (My Hero Academia One-shot)(Post-movie)
My name is Melissa Shield. My dream is to be a hero in my own way. I want to follow father's footsteps by creating support items to help heroes.
That was supposed to be my path. I was well on my way to achieving everything I hoped for.
That was before everything went wrong. Before my heroes shattered before my eyes.
This was not how my life was supposed to go.
Every single, minuscule detail of the chip had to be precise.
That reality rolled around in her mind, filling every part of it as she went over her plans once again. She scanned through yet another page of calculations, her eyes weary and tempting her to lose focus. She carried on, her irises rolling left to right through the lines of numbers and words, filled with a sophistication only a trained mind could hope to comprehend.
The soft buzz of her phone in her pocket interrupted the whirring of her thoughts. In spite of herself, she blinked. With an exasperated sigh, she reached into her pocket to see what — or less likely, who — had pinged her.
With a frown, she saw it was an email from one of her instructors. She casually tapped the notification with her thumb, wishing she could be interrupted by something a little more pleasant.
"Hello class,
Since I keep getting asked this: Yes, you have an additional five days to complete your project in light of recent events.
No, I am not giving any more time than that. In the real world, deadlines don't stop because disaster strikes.
I expect great things from all of you.
-Dr. Strauss"
She groaned at the message. Another reminder of the sword dangling above her head.
Her eyes naturally rolled down to a bright, green envelope icon on her phone for text messaging. Still no notifications. Not that it would be otherwise.
With another deep breath, Melissa renewed her furious efforts to right her project. A drawing of the final design came up on her screen. A collapsible, bright red bracer, unbreakable, protecting against blows and encompassing the entire arm when drawn.
It was not what the project had originally wanted to make. But she still could not help but smile looking at it.
With a sigh, she buried herself back into her work. She did not have time to dawdle. She had a deadline and she had to make this as excellent as possible if she was going to pass.
Being alone without friends at least made getting to work at little easier.
I wanted nothing more than to help people. I decided I wanted to be someone's hero some day. Even if I was quirkless, I would find a way to make incredible things. That would have to be enough.
But I was reminded of all the things I couldn't do
The monstrosity her father had unwittingly created was unfathomable. Massive, hulking and swallowing up more and more of the place she had come to call home.
An insidious mixture of awe and terror flooded her. What could possibly stand up against something like that?.
But the odds did not seem to matter to any of the heroes around her. While she was stuck to the ground, they leapt into the fray with gusto.
She was sidelined. The security was back online. She wanted to fight with them, but she had done her part. She could do not but watch and cheer as All Might, Deku and the other U.A. students tried to save the entire island from that monster.
The cold hand of fear wrapped its tendril-like fingers around her heart as she saw them narrowly evade death over and over again. But she was kept warm by the inferno of heroic zeal around her, somewhat comforted by the power the U.A. students were able to muster.
Her heart panged when All Might — powerful, peerless, able to defeat anyone — was stopped dead in his tracks and held captive.
But she was flooded with relief when Deku leapt in to help him, the two working in tandem to take down the behemoth. She watched, awed as Deku — even though he was two years her younger — weaved through the deadly, mechanical projectiles and kept going.
She could not help them. Not much, anyway. She was quirkless, after all. But she could take some small solace in the flash of red she could see around his centre as he ran, knowing he was wearing her invention. She was helping, in her own way.
Before the world was lost in a flurry of darkness and debris, she clenched her fists as the two heroes punched their way through the villain together.
She was helping. But she wanted to do more.
My world was changing more rapidly than I could cope with. Everything was coming at me too fast. I had no powers to keep up with it.
Goodbyes were never easy. But losing the last pillars of stability in a world spinning out of control was unbearably difficult.
"Now Melissa, if you don't let me go soon, I'll start to go blue!"
She murmured unintelligibly into All Might's muscular chest. She had told him — and herself — that she could let him go. That she could look after herself. That she did not need him.
On that last point at least, she had been lying.
"I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered, low enough so that only he could hear. She could feel the pitying stares of all the U.A. students on her, but she did not care.
"I'll come and see you as soon as I can. We won't be apart for as long this time." There was a dark tone to his whispers that startled her, the jovial hero dropping an octave, his voice foreign in her ears. He held her at arm's length; his eyes were unreadable, but his mouth formed a hard line, alien to his normally grinning visage. "I promise you, Melissa."
She could not formulate a good response to her hero changing in ways she could not comprehend. But she nodded, wiping the tears out of her eyes as she looked up at him.
"I'll do my best until then."
What more could she say?
But he smiled and laughed at her statement. It did not sound particularly genuine to her — like he was wearing an overly bright disguise to throw off the prying eyes around them. Like her father had done.
"You're a bright, strong young woman, Melissa," he stated fiercely. He looked down at her, his muscles flexing under his skin-tight suit. She was reminded of meeting him as a child. He could still be just as impossibly imposing as then. "You can get through this."
With that, he stepped aside, turning his back on her and walking away into the distance. Already, he seemed so far. A paragon she could not hope to reach.
But, she had a more pressing matter to focus on. The farewell that somehow made her heart sink even deeper into dread.
Deku stood there tepidly, his hands in the pockets of his green hoodie, his eyes stuck on the ground. He looked lost and unsure of himself, so different from the hero she had seen lead a rush up a tower to battle hardened villains.
"So…I guess this is goodbye," Deku said, his eyes turning upward to properly regard her. There was a sadness there. The fire in his gaze she had glimpsed when things were at their worst was absent.
"Guess so," she replied, his negative energy rubbing off on her. She had wracked her mind on how to approach this and found all her half-formed plans falling to pieces with the moment upon her.
But for what felt like the thousandth time, Deku surprised her.
"It was really nice meeting you, Melissa. And thank you for all the help you gave me." He gave a respectful bow, startling her. "I couldn't have done anything here without you."
He stood up again, his eyes filled with a few sparks of fiery vigour, his smile bright across his face. "You're a real hero."
The words were electric to her ears, her eyes rising open in shock. There was a warmth that surged through her at the turn of phrase.
"Melissa – WOH?!"
She let her inhibitions out in a rush as she grabbed hold of him. She buried her face into the side of his head and squeezed him tightly, unleashing a surge of emotion onto him. It was a little awkward — he went stone-stiff in her arms and she was not used to hugging people so much shorter than her – but it hardly mattered,
"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. She could not properly convey in words how much his words meant to her.
"MHM!" he squeaked in response. His stillness started to concern her, so she relinquished him from her hold. His face was scrunched up and beet red, his nerves apparently getting the best of him.
She giggled slightly at his expression. His bashfulness was cute, even if it was a bit of an overreaction. She could understand him but did not personally fret about a friendly hug.
"I could say the same thing about you, Deku," she said, eager to change his focus. It seemed to work; the young hero shook his head as if warding something out of his mind. "I know you're going to be an incredible hero. You proved it on this island — even if the rest of the world didn't' get to see it."
He remained quiet, but his face relaxed, a smile blossoming on his features. "Thanks, Melissa. It means a lot."
The ice between them thoroughly broken, Melissa reached into her pocket to pull out the gift she had hoped she could successfully impart on him.
"I wanted you to have this," she stated firmly while pushing the small card in his hand. He took it gingerly, his attention quickly seized by it.
"What is..." he began, but trailed off before his eyes widened in realization.
"The business card for my workshop!" She uttered her words with practiced enthusiasm. She had to sell people on valuing these things, after all. "I just had it made and you're the first person I'm giving this too."
"…This has your phone number on it."
She blinked at the statement. "Well, it's a business card. Of course it does."
"Right. That makes sense," he said shakily, as if her number was still very much beyond his comprehension. "Why…are you giving this to me?"
"I want you to get in touch with me if you need any adjustments to your costume made," she stated fiercely, drawing his eyes back onto her. "I'm going to work really hard to make the best support items I can to help you be the best hero you can be!"
She pumped a fist a little upward, trying to mimic the same energy she saw from all of the U.A. students over the past week. She could never accomplish the incredible feats they were capable of. But she could do what she could with the same gusto and zeal they had.
"I'm going to go Plus Ultra!"
When she stared back into Izuku's eyes, she saw more of the fire she recognized from their adventure. She was touched she could help stoke those flames.
"I know you will," he stated, a powerful surety in his voice. The nervous little boy in him faded quickly. "And I'll definitely be in touch. I'm going to work as hard as I can to be ready for whatever you make next!"
"Let's shake on it, then," she proposed, letting her hand forward. She had seen her father make the gesture to new clientele countless times, but chose not to dwell on that. "To a new and fruitful partnership!"
Izuku only hesitated a moment before grabbing onto her hand firmly. The powerful strength of his grip was well disguised by his scarred hand. "To a new and fruitful partnership."
She let him go to turn back to the arms of his awaiting friends. As she turned to leave the area, she laughed at their loud exclamations from the group. One voice, who she recognized as Uraraka's, overpowered the others: "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WERE HAVING FUN DEKU!"
Her spirits were a little buoyed as she waved them off while they embarked on the plane. But her heart ached at the knowledge their presence was really gone. At least she had a new, solid link to all of her new friends at U.A.
She did not stay long enough to watch their plane take to the sky. She had a date with schematics, computers and a lot of coffee.
But as she exited the private section of the airport and caught glimpse of a nervous-looking man in a bright suit, she closed her eyes and sighed. She made no secret of her misery.
Her date would have to wait until the lawyers were done with her.
I had a goal.
I had to wear a brave face. Like All Might or Deku would, no matter the odds. I had to carve my own path and earn respect now that I was on my own. I did not want the cameras — the world — to see me vulnerable.
I would not show my grief. I would not show my shame. Not to them. Not after this.
That horrible night, I watched my hero fall. I watched my world crumble.
It was not easier the second time.
"Hang in there, okay Melissa? It'll work out in the end. And you can call me after it's over. I promise I'll be there for you."
The soft kindness of his voice was a beacon in the dark road she was about to walk. It was enough to make her lip tremble, her grief threatening to pour over the dam she had carefully constructed for the day.
She swallowed, gulping down those emotions. She took a deep breath to steady herself again.
"Thanks, Deku. I'll probably take you up on that."
"Talk to you later, then. Good luck. I'll be watching."
She wanted to keep the conversation going. Say something, anything to stall having to face the world, alone as she was.
"Bye."
She tapped her thumb to end the call and shoved the phone roughly in her pocket. She closed her eyes, her mind flashing through visions of the horrors to come. She hoped picturing what would play out would make it less impactful when it did.
She clenched her fists into her business-black skirt. She rose up off of her couch and marched outside to face the world head-on.
The worst part had to be the stares.
She could feel people's eyes boring into her from every angle as she walked through her once warm, welcoming home. That night of terror had changed this place. Fear and paranoia gripped the populous. Nobody would take safety for granted ever again.
She did not dare look toward anyone. Her eyes were only for one person today. She already knew what she would find if she looked at the crowd. Pity. Anger. Hatred.
Out of her peripheral vision, she could see people stop moving to glance at her. Telltale flashes of cameras, penetrating the early morning darkness. The loose crowd forming around her started to murmur. Journalists barked orders to camera people to move. People parted out of her way, but her path was soon filled with more flashes of light. This was it: she was live. The world was watching her.
She did not stop.
"Miss Shield, how are you feeling as you walk into the court today?"
The microphones were out, walking with her. She did not register the faces of the reporters around her. Her eyes were set on the massive structure where her father would meet his fate.
"No comment."
"Can I get a question in? Are you willing to do an interview?" Another reporter asked, needling, hoping to get a score.
"I'm not giving any interviews today."
A particularly bold one elected to leap in front of her, causing her world to be engulfed in a flash of light. She paused and blinked out the spots in her eyes, staring forward as the man peeked out from beneath the mask of his lense.
"Miss Shield, do you hate your father?"
Tabloid.
"I love my father. I hate that he was part of something like this."
She plowed through as the flurry of shutters rang around her ears. She walked quickly as the reporters trailed behind her, making it to the sanctity of the front doors and into the building, where media access was more limited.
But there was no security from the stares. The courthouse was packed with people lined up to witness her father's plea. Security guards worked quickly to scan people and get them moving through. She wondered if the courthouse even had a security gate set up before a week ago.
"People, if you are here to see David Shield, the courtroom is now full!" one guard bellowed, waving his arms from behind the gate, bringing the murmurs of the crowd to a lower pitch. "We cannot allow any more people into the building for that, so please, exit if that is your only business here. There will be a live broadcast outside."
The crowd groaned and voiced a few unpleasantries at the messenger, but started to turn around. She could feel more eyes boring into her skin as she fought against the crowd and made her way to the edge of the gate.
"Miss please — oh," the messenger guard stopped himself, leaning forward to get a better look at her as she made her way to the front. She regarded him with the same look of grim determination she had worn since leaving her home.
"I need to get through," she stated, lifting out an ID card and presenting it for the gate.
"Well….I should…" he looked at her and scratched his cheek, before turning his eyes skyward. "Yeah, I guess you probably should be there."
He scanned her identification and let her pass by. She figured even he could tell she would not be stopped today.
She made her way through the throngs of people wandering the courthouse. Lawyers, officers, citizens and alleged criminals. I-Island was once virtually devoid of crime, but the chaos of the past week had led to many more cases than usual for the courts to deal with.
There were fewer glances toward her, with people busying themselves with cases that hardly mattered. She was grateful for the reprieve, but her muscles remained tense as she walked through the halls.
Far too quickly, she was met with the looming, dark double doors to the room where her father would appear. People moved in and out of the room rapidly, keeping the doors suspended between openness and closure.
She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists. Felt her mouth furrow deeper into her face.
With one more breath, she walked forward, mask intact.
The courtroom was as packed as promised. The benches lining either side of the cramped room were filled with people, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The aisle down the middle of the room, overlaid with a dingy green carpet, also had people standing or sitting, unable to find any other space.
She found herself standing still as people shifted around her, unsure of where she should go. There was nobody here for her. Nobody was waiting to offer her a seat. She was caught between twisting strings of fear — not wanting to be rude by pushing people out of the way, not wanting to be anywhere particularly visible in the room.
"He's going away for a long time."
Her eyes darted around at the words. She could not see where they come from amongst the horde of bodies and the shuffling of feet. She could not be sure whether it was just a particularly loud murmur, or if it was directed at her specifically. She supposed it did not really matter.
There, in the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of space at the very end of a bench near the left side of the room. Right across from the in-custody booth, where her father would inevitably be dragged to.
The thought did not make her hesitate. She pounced, making her way through the horde people, making a few utterances of "excuse me" as she worked her way across the bench to the corner of the room. She knew she was attracting more stares and whispers at her presence. She did her best to ignore them.
The wall was hard and the bench was uncomfortable. The large, gruff-looking man next to her did not seem to take kindly to the sudden decrease in space. His gaze was perturbed as she took the seat, but he made no comment.
The court in front of her did not stand out in any particular way. A judge's dais loomed high above the rest of the room, empty, but promising of what was to come. Two tables sat below it, one each for prosecution and defence. She eyed the prosecutor: a tall, dark-haired woman with a fierce-looking face. She looked composed and in-control from her seat, rifling through documents, her eyes intent on the paper in front of her.
Her father's lawyer was there in a familiar bright blue suit. There were heavy bags under his eyes as he looked through his own documents, flipping through them with an agitation that betrayed a calm demeanour. The lawyer next to him looked bored as he glanced through his watch, evidently not part of what would be the initial court proceedings.
She had to make herself known to them.
"Excuse me, Mr. Pointer?" She exclaimed while pushing up against the low wall splitting the court from the gallery. It was quiet compared to the low hum of the room, but fortunately, her message was heard. The lawyer in the blue suit turned and she waived at him, as she had been instructed to do beforehand. He nodded at her, before turning back to his notes.
She breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down, bracing herself for what was to come.
A camera was set up at the corner of the room next to the judge's dais, giving it a perfect view of the lawyers, audience and the seat where her father would appear. She frowned at it, wishing it did not have to be present. She knew it would probably turn to her at some point.
"Order in the court, all rise." A male clerk below the judge's dais barked out the command. The shuffle of people rang loud in her ears as she rose up with them, watching as the judge entered the room from a side door. Grey-haired, balding and with a thick beard, the gaunt man took his seat above the rest of them, staring down at his courtroom filled to the brim with people.
"You may be seated."
She was a little slower than the rest as she stared at the man who would judge her father's life. But as the camera scanned across the crowd, she sat down quickly. She felt herself starting to tense in anticipation.
"Big crowd," the judge mused. He shook his head and sighed into his microphone. "Let's get it over with. Can you address the case of David Shield?"
"We can your honour," the prosecutor said, stepping up with her answer.
"Bring him in, then."
The energy in the room shifted dramatically. Everyone's eyes were glued to the seat, atop a wooden platform, waiting for the star of the show. The world's greatest support specialist, fallen from grace. The man who betrayed I-Island. Her hero.
An officer held him by the arm as he walked in, eyes downcast. He sat down in the chair, keeping his eyes to the floor, his hands loose in front of him. He was not physically different than the last time she saw him, but his eyes were etched with a weariness she did not like.
"Your honour," her father's lawyer stood up, looking down at his notes, reciting a script. "My client is prepared to plead guilty."
"To which offences?"
His lawyer let out a big sigh and shook his head at the paper in front of him. "All of them."
The room erupted into a chorus of whispers, sounding shrill and unpleasant to her ears. She looked at her father, whose expression was unchanged. He kept his eyes glued to his lap, not daring to look out and address the world quite yet.
"Circumstances?" The judge turned to the prosecutor, a grim line on his weathered face.
The prosecutor pulled no punches, recounting the terror her father had unwittingly contributed to. Conspiracy against the island, aiding villainy, damage to security systems, misusing security and theft of a multi-million dollar scale. His list of charges was massive and the gravity of his crimes sucked in the room and the world beyond the camera lens.
But her world remained anchored to her father. He sunk lower into his chair as the account wore on, his shoulders slumping, his face morphing into anguish as he was bombarded by regret.
Her heart clenched painfully at her father's visage. It almost physically hurt her to see him this way, same as it did when he explained himself to her alone through a glass screen.
Since being caught, this had always been his plan. He would do nothing less than own up to everything — even when a plea deal could have resulted in charges being withdrawn. Her father was walking the painful slope of atonement.
She bit her lip and struggled to maintain her composure. She had braced herself ahead of time for this but found herself struggling against the crashing waves of his crimes washing across them both.
"Mr. Shield, is that what happened?" The judge finally said after the prosecution's long account of events was stated. It was undoubtedly close to a word-for-word account of what her father himself had told them.
She watched her father breathe deeply, scrunching his face up and closing his eyes. His face morphed into something more composed, his eyes fierce as he stood up. He looked out to the courtroom and the camera in front of him.
"Yes, it is," he stated simply, his voice and demeanour calm and strong as she knew him to be.
"And how do you plead?"
His mouth formed a harder line, but he otherwise betrayed nothing more of the churning emotions inside of him. "Guilty."
A fresh chorus of audience murmuring sounded through the courtroom. Her hands twitched, but she resisted the urge to cover her ears to drown out the infernal sound.
Her father had stood up and owned everything he had done. A pale imitation of the hero she had once known.
Try as she might, she could not stop the water gathering at the edge of her eyes, stinging as she tried to reign in the tide.
"Sir, the damage this man's crimes have wrought cannot be understated," the prosecutor said as she began to argue for sentencing. "His selfish actions directly led to billions in damages to our island, not to mention the toll this has taken on the populous here. The list of his crimes is lengthy and he is in full admittance of all of it. Although he has no prior criminal record and willingly surrendered himself to the police, given the significance of his offences, that cannot stretch too far. I can recommend no less than a 20-year sentence."
It was expected. It's fine. The judge does not have to go with that.
The thoughts were little comfort. Her hands were shaking. She clenched her fingers and tried to slow them down. She looked up at her father, wondering what kind of comfort she might find there. Something she used to depend on. He looked as dazed and lost as she probably did.
"Sir, I do not agree with that level of punishment," her father's attorney stood up to start his argument, standing ramrod straight. "What this man has done is indeed inexcusable — but there are many mitigating factors. Mr. Shield never intended to harm anyone or cause any significant damage to I-Island. He associated with bad actors in more ways than one, but the totality of their crimes should not fall on his shoulders."
The man looked unnerved in his delivery but gained strength as he went on. She leaned forward in her seat, hinging herself on his words.
"Mr. Shield's contributions to this place cannot be understated either. He helped create many of our key systems and his research has been incredibly important to our very home and our world. Mr. Shield also willingly surrendered himself to the police, has been fully co-operative with investigators and has pleaded guilty at first opportunity."
"Mr. Shield is 52 years old, single and cares for his 17-year old daughter, who is here to support him today."
Like a showman, the lawyer gestured towards her, and the world's spotlight fell on her shoulders.
Melissa Shield stood up, her dark, business-like attire impeccable. She kept herself straight and tall, not a hair out of place. Her face was solemn but well-manufactured, unheeding of the millions of eyeballs judging her expression. Only the keen-eyed would see the watery, red edges around the eyes, peeking beyond the mask she had made for this moment.
"Twenty years is far too long a punishment for a man who has done so much and had minimal ill intent in his actions." The lawyer stated his closing argument loudly, focusing the world's attention back on him.
The eyes of the world left her. The endless moment had lasted but a few brief seconds. She collapsed into her chair, waited a few seconds in case of a lingering camera, and then pushed her face into her palms.
She wanted to bury herself into something. Or someone. But she had nobody else now.
Her father was a world away. So too was Deku. The rest of her friends on the island had abandoned her. All Might had been dissuaded from being here, her father so concerned about the damage his best friend's presence in this court might do to the Symbol of Peace.
A fallen hero casts a wide shadow. She was entrenched in that darkness.
"…A five-year sentence is much more appropriate, with community service after that. Mr. Shield is a good man who did a bad thing. He does not need to be locked away."
She frowned at the proclamation. Truth was, she did not know what her father deserved. Or what she even really wanted for him.
"Before we wrap things up, is there anything else you would like to say, Mr. Shield?"
Her father stood up again, exerting the most confident aura he could. The camera zoomed in close and the world awaited his words.
"I am truly sorry for what I did. It was wrong. I only hoped to help a dear friend. But the ends did not justify the means. I am ready to accept my punishment."
As he sat back down, another ripple of murmuring went through the crowd. She clenched her hands on her knees and tried not to shake at her father's heartfelt speech.
"I'll need a few weeks before my decision," the judge said as he scribbled down some notes in front of him. "Let's say six weeks. We'll take a recess for people to exit. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Shield."
"Order in the court, all rise!"
He was downcast again as an officer took him by the arm and back into custody. He scanned across the room as if searching for someone.
His eyes met hers. A moment of surprise. Followed by his smile — and a nod.
"Thank you," he mouthed, silently, lost in the cacophony of sound.
David Shield disappeared behind a plain wooden door.
She let out an unsteady breath. She led her bangs and glasses hide her watery eyes from the camera which might be trying to single her out.
The mass of people was hardly worth trying to get through right away. She could not force her way through. It was better to sit and try to stay out of sight.
The dark fabric of her skirt disguised the tiny splotches of water. All she could do was wait.
Powerless.
It was a long time until I saw my father again.
The judge sentenced him to ten years in custody. There was a possibility of parole, which we hoped he could get before long. It was favourable, all things considered, but a difficult sentence. He saw it as just.
I did what I could to keep in touch with him. But the distance made it difficult. Trying to get through school and find a way to mostly provide for myself soon took up most of my time.
Surviving was more difficult when my last name had become a reviled curse.
I had never felt more alone.
"Is that really all it does?"
She took a breath before answering. Her brow felt hot under the scrutiny of her instructors, but she could not get flustered. She had prepared for this. She could do this.
"It's more durable than just about any support item on the market. Its flexibility can lend itself to a widely applicable form of armour. Whether against a villain's punch or to protect a hero from their own attacks with any kind of blowback."
"The design is rather sleek. But it only extends across the arm. What do you envision for this?"
"With manufacturing resources, I have designs ready for whole body suits, as needed."
"Is it compatible with other support items?"
She blinked at the question. A curveball, not rehearsed in her script. But she could think on her feet.
"…It should be easily adaptable to any specifications, with a bit of time. It should be perfectly congruous with many support items as is."
"Why would the best heroes use this? Most heroes focus on mobility or quirk augmentation with their items, not pure defence."
The inquiry pushed her mouth into a hard line. She could see the disappointment and annoyance dripping from her instructors' faces. None met her eyes as they sought every reason to dislike her creation.
She could not expect anything more than that. She was a Shield, after all.
"Even the best heroes need protection sometimes, sir," she replied with a cold, detached politeness.
"Well, it could be worse. But I admit, I expected more from you, Miss Shield."
So did I.
"You can go now."
With a nod, she took her device and walked steadily out of the room. Her footsteps were loud against the metallic tile. She knew their eyes would not be on her back. They would be scribbling quick notes for an unspectacular grade before moving on as quickly as possible.
That is all she was to them, now. An unspectacular number they would rather not deal with or consider. To associate with her was more trouble than it was worth.
The eyes of the world did not look out for her anymore.
She kept walking, but closed her eyes for a just a moment. An image passed through her mind, one of herself, standing mighty against the terror that had gripped her home and caused her world to collapse.
She could have built it. It would have been something beyond the imaginations of her sneering instructors.
But she already knew. What she really wanted to build could never be. The world had made it clear what her limits were.
It was hard enough to lose one hero.
I could not bear the idea of losing two. I wondered if their fight would destroy me. Obliterate what hope I had left. But from my hero’s ashes, I would have to find my own hope.
Her right hand trembled in her lap. Her breathing became short. Her forehead and eyes watered and she found herself drawn like a moth to the lights flickering on her television screen.
There he was. All Might, the paragon of heroism and righteousness, decaying to the point of wispiness. The man she had once seen as unbeatable, reduced to a pale shadow of his former self. Facing off against a clearly mightier supervillain.
But he was still standing.
In the face of an overwhelming enemy, All Might still continued standing defiantly. In his state, he should have collapsed long ago. He should have given up.
"The power of All Might is not long for this world." Her father had warned her this day would come. From behind a plastic screen, his pronouncement had seemed as otherworldly as he himself had become. "The time will come soon when your generation will carry the torch of peace."
"All Might…" she whispered to herself. Her voice was lost to the sound of the television. A reporter was screaming over the whir of helicopter blades, as desperately as the whole world was.
"You have to win!" she yelled with all the force she could muster. "We need you! Come on All Might!"
It did not matter that she was alone in her workshop, shouting to no one. It did not matter how tired she was or that her throat ached as she kept shouting, trying to cheer him on. It did not matter that there was no possibility that he could actually, physically hear her.
He was the world's hero. Her hero. And he would know that she was watching, rooting for him with everything she had.
The camera went black just as All Might put on a counterattack against his foe, the force of his blow making it impossible for the world to see exactly what happened.
But when the cameras rolled again, he was there. Same as he always was, standing. The villain collapsed beneath his feet.
She cheered with the rest of the world when he lifted his fist up, overpowering any hope of the reporters getting words in. All Might had won. He was still there. The world could stay at peace.
Even as her own world spiralled wildly out of control, she could take solace in that.
Even as her logical mind knew All Might was on his last legs, her heart did not want to bear considering that this could be his end.
But then he pointed his finger out to the world.
His words clawed and entrenched themselves into her very soul.
"Now, it's your turn."
She could hear the roar of the crowd. She could hear the crowd cheer at All Might's final heroic line, taking it as some kind of warning against the villains of the world. She could hear the crowd desperately seizing onto the idea that the world's peace would be maintained.
But she could not hold back her tears as she realized what it meant. All Might's time had faded. He was passing on the torch for good.
Her hero was standing. But All Might had fallen.
It was a message for Deku. She knew it had to be. The boy whose power was so like All Might it was uncanny. The boy who fought by All Might's side to save her home, matching him stride for stride. The boy who had become her dear friend and confidant — now one of the only friends she had.
He would be the next Symbol of Peace.
He would be her hero.
Melissa Shield did not let herself cry for long. She was tired of it. She was done losing herself to despair. All Might and Deku could keep going against impossible circumstances and so could she. Even as the world pushed against her, she would keep going.
All Might's message was not just for Deku. Just like his teacher, Deku would need support bearing the burden of the Symbol of Peace.
She was going to be the one to protect him. She would give him all the support he could ever hope for.
It was her turn too.
With her face locked into a fierce frown, she arose, a phoenix, from her seat. She stepped with purpose towards the other end of her lab. She pressed her hand on the special spot on a seemingly empty, bright wall, causing a small keypad to pop out in front of her.
"Every good workshop has its secrets, Melissa." She remembered her father's words when he had secretly installed a hidden room in her workshop, intent on giving her an avenue to hide whatever she wanted from any prying eyes. She had thought it had been a bit much, and the memory was stained in her mind by her father's own secrecy. But she could appreciate the boon the room had become.
The correct passcode she entered caused the wall to slide away, revealing a rather cramped space wide enough for only one person. The dark walls within appeared flat, but disguised all sorts of containment units for different projects and plans.
But there was only one thing she had ever buried within this place, no longer feeling like it could see the light of day. It hung on the top-half of a mannequin at the end of the hallway, lit up and raised by a cylindrical containment unit. It stood out in the darkness, a bright backlight making it a beacon.
It was not an impressive sight. For now, it was but half a breastplate, a messy tangle of metal and wires with little cohesion in its shape. It would hardly attract attention for what it was today.
But she stepped forward trepidatiously just the same, pressing down on another section of the wall near the piece of the armour itself.
A drawer opened up in the side of the wall, stretching across the entire hallway directly in front of her. The notes and schematics she had left here were messy and scattered, plunged inside with minimal care. In her haste, she had felt the project would be left in here forever. She had only barely held herself back from destroying it entirely.
After some quick shuffling through pages, she pulled out what she was looking for. The complete design of what the device in front of her would become.
She held the design in front of her eyes, overshadowing the unimpressive looking equipment in front of her. A complete set of mechanical armour was drawn across it, painstakingly designed to be both visually appealing and aerodynamic. The suit covered the entire body and fit snugly against the hero, any jagged edges smoothed over in designs, replicating what was popular on the day. But it would be bulkier than a regular hero costume, filled to the brim with more wires and tech than just about any singular support item on the market.
After years of doting on her father's research, she thought she had stumbled onto something great. It would require significant testing, but if she was successful, it could revolutionize the world of heroics.
It was a power suit. Designed to enhance and magnify a wearer's physical abilities. The exact amount would require more testing, but she was aiming to get it anywhere between three and ten times the amount of a person's natural physical prowess.
In the hands of an average person, it was effectively a way to give them super strength. But in the hands of a hero like All Might, it could make them absolutely unstoppable.
She pushed the drawer out of the way and stepped forward, releasing the containment unit to finger through the mechanics of her device. She remembered when she could just lose herself in working on the design for it. She was so happy and enthralled to have come up with it. It was her dream coming true; a chance to be someone's hero.
But her father had shown her the folly of letting one's genius go too far in pushing boundaries. In the wrong hands, this device could be catastrophic.
She had shoved it in here, intent on keeping it buried in this place laced with memories of her father. But a part of her knew it would not be that simple. She could not destroy the embodiment of her dreams.
Melissa Shield closed her eyes with her hand on her invention. She could see the vision in her mind again; a recurring dream that haunted every sleeping moment. Herself wearing the suit, standing powerful and tall as All Might did. Able to fight alongside him, as Deku came to do right in front of her.
She was quirkless. But a portion of her mind still wanted to be a hero. To support other heroes, both on and off the field.
She smiled at her own naivety as she opened her eyes to see the incomplete device before her. It was a childish dream. Nothing more.
But there was a new hero she could stake her hopes on now. Someone who would be the perfect wearer of her suit. Someone who could unleash its full potential to become unbeatable. A true hero.
Deku appeared in her mind. Grown up, tall, powerful, the wind sweeping across his hair. Wearing a power suit of her design, a delightful smile still visible beneath his helmet.
The image brought a grin to her own face.
She took the device into her hands and turned around, stepping back to the brighter lights of the rest of her workshop. She knew what she had to do now. She would bring that image to reality, damn all the possible consequences of creating something so powerful.
The world needed a new Symbol of Peace and she would help bring one to fruition.
The world would never see her as a hero. But she could at least be a hero to someone.
AN: Thank you for reading! ^_^ Please give it a like and a reblog if you enjoyed it! I just had to write something about Melissa after the amazing movie, seeing how little there was out there about her. The movie ends just as her story is about to get really compelling, in my mind. Here’s hoping she comes back to be featured in the main series. This is definitely staying a one-shot, but I might find a way to work her into future projects. Until next time!
#my hero academia#My hero academia two heroes#My hero academia movie#Melissa Shield#Fanfiction#BNHA#spoilers#Angst#Izuku Midoriya#All Might#David Shield#Melissa Shield-centric#She is a precious girl#Someone had to write something about her damn it
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D’Un Nouvel Oeil- Chapter Six
Previous Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five
ORADOUR-SUR-GLANE, HAUTE-VIENNE, FRANCE JANUARY 1944
For nearly a year, at the beginning of her twenties, Dana Scully had lived in terror at the idea of becoming an orphan.
Her mother's illness had come on suddenly- on Monday, she'd been hale and healthy, single-handedly managing both the Cafe Pequod and the farm, and by Friday, she'd been too weak to write to her daughter in Paris. Scully had received a letter from her mother's neighbor, instead, summoning her home from medical school, and she'd come immediately to assess her condition. When it had become apparent that Maggie would require long-term care, she had sent letters to her brothers, who were living in America, and to her sister, who was living in Greece with a man she had met while traveling through Europe.
Bill had written that he couldn't possibly leave his naval posting, because he could not honestly tell his commander that no one else was available to care for his mother. As to her suggestion that he send Charlie, newly graduated from high school and with no definite plans for his future, absolutely not. What would be the point in paying for Charlie to travel all the way to France when Dana was there already, primed and equipped with more than enough medical training to nurse her mother far better than Charlie ever could?
"The family has indulged your ridiculous idea of being a doctor long enough," Bill had written, "but now, it's time for you to shoulder your share of the responsibility and make the same sacrifices that the rest of us have made." What, exactly, those sacrifices were, Bill had neglected to mention. She couldn't say how taking their youngest brother and running off to America, leaving the running of the family business to their mother, qualifies as a sacrifice, but she'd known Bill well enough to know that writing back would be useless.
Melissa had not even bothered with a response.
So Scully, with less than a year left until the completion of her medical degree, had returned to Paris just long enough to gather her belongings and withdraw from school. She had hired two local men, one to manage the cafe and one as a dishwasher, allowing the manager to rent the upstairs flat, and she had moved into the farmhouse with her mother.
Maggie's condition had been touch and go for awhile, and Scully had lived in daily fear of losing her, of being left essentially alone in the world. Her father had been gone for years, her siblings were so distant and unreliable, and for those first months Scully had floundered, trying to cope with overseeing the farm, the cafe, and her mother's care. The man she'd hired to manage the cafe had, at first, refused to take her seriously, making decisions without her input until finally, she'd threatened to replace him.
When Maggie's health had returned, Scully had briefly nurtured the hope of returning to school, of finishing her medical degree and finally becoming a doctor. With someone managing the cafe, and the farm employing enough hands that Maggie wouldn't have to do any of the physical labor, it didn't seem unreasonable that she might be able to leave long enough to complete the required classes. She could even come straight back to Oradour-sur-Glane when she'd finished and be a doctor there, so that she could help her mother, should she need it again.
But then had come the war.
When her dishwasher had been called up, Scully had been able to replace him relatively easily... but when the manager had left to go to war, a replacement hadn't been quite so readily available. Scully had taken it over, telling herself that it was only temporary, that the war would end soon, the men would come home, and she could resume her studies.
Instead, the Occupation had begun... and once it had, Scully had no longer felt safe leaving her mother alone. She had moved into the flat above the cafe, resigning herself to learning as much of her remaining studies as she could from whatever books she could find. When the replacement dishwasher had suddenly disappeared from town with no indication he'd be returning, Scully hadn't bothered hiring a new one. She'd received a letter from Melissa, saying that she was travelling further east, trying to find a place the war had not yet touched, and Scully hadn't even been able to bring herself to be angry.
By then, she'd learned: the only person in the world that she can really and truly count on is herself.
And now... now, Mulder wants her to trust him. To let him in. To let him help. And she wants to, she really does.
She's just not completely sure she remembers how.
------------------------
"Do you think there's any way you can handle the morning milking yourself tomorrow, Maman? Scully asks Maggie, as they finish Saturday morning's work at the farm. Maggie raises her eyebrows at her daughter.
"You have somewhere you need to be?" Maggie asks, and for a moment, Scully worries her mother can see right through her.
"No," she says, "I'm just exhausted, that's all. I think I may just skip Mass and try and get a good night's sleep, for once." Maggie looks stern.
"I can have Paul do your share of the milking," she says, referring to one of her farm hands, "but I don't see why you need to miss Mass, as well." Scully sighs.
"Maman, I've been up until nearly three in the morning for the past three nights running," she says. "Between the work at the cafe, the work here, and the... other things I'm responsible for, I can't remember the last morning I woke up feeling the slightest bit rested." She's not lying about any of this, at least, and Maggie's face softens somewhat.
"You do far too much, Dana," her mother admonishes her. "I thought that maybe now, with Fox helping you, maybe you would be able to stop spreading yourself quite so thin." Scully thinks of Mulder, of the real reason she's planning on skipping Mass.
Spreading myself, indeed, she thinks, and instantly goes red. Her mother looks concerned.
"Darling, you're flushed," Maggie says. She puts a hand on her daughter's forehead. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, Maman," Scully insists, brushing her mother's hand aside. Her mother looks at her critically a moment longer, then shrugs and returns to her work.
"Perhaps a little extra sleep wouldn't be the worst thing for you," she admits. "I'll tell the priest you weren't feeling well." Scully smiles, relieved. Her stomach twinges with the tiniest bit of guilt- both her mother and the priest would be heartbroken if they knew her true plans for this evening- but she quells it immediately.
She's been alone for so long. Not lonely, of course. Never lonely... or so she's told herself, repeatedly, during long nights in her empty flat, the abundance of unoccupied space in her too-large bed seeming to mock her. She's always believed strongly that loneliness is a choice, that being content to be alone is a sign of strength, not weakness, and for a long time, she has been content... but now, a day that she doesn't see Mulder, doesn't speak to him, doesn't flush with warmth from head to toe at the way he smiles at her, seems to be a day that's somehow not complete.
It's not a level of dependence she's comfortable with... but whenever she tries to take a step back, Mulder takes another step forward, and she's finding it harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.
---------------------------
He's begun heading to the kitchen during the last hour of every evening, getting a head start on the dishwashing, cleaning, and food preparation that used to keep her downstairs well after closing. She continually tells him that he doesn't have to, that she can handle the work herself, that she can do it after he leaves, but he insists on continuing.
"My motives are purely selfish, Scully," he reassures her. "The less you have to do before bed, the later I can stay, right?"
"I suppose that's true," she agrees cautiously.
"So really, I'm doing it for myself," he says. "An hour washing dishes now means an extra hours with my hands on those-" he nods at her breasts- "later. Completely selfish." She swats at him with a dishrag on her way back to the dining room, but she's laughing.
She does that a lot more often, these days.
Tonight, as she's finishing tending to the evening's final customers, she feels as though her entire midriff is full of butterflies. It's not nerves, exactly- she knows he's not going to turn her down. No, this is purely excitement, anticipation for what she's almost certain is going to be something amazing. Mulder sets her on fire with the simplest and most chaste of touches; she can't wait to see what kind of sparks they throw off when he's finally given free rein.
When the last customer has been shepherded out into the cold January night, Scully returns to the kitchen and hangs up her apron. For a moment, she contents herself with merely watching Mulder as he finishes drying the evening's dishes, appreciating the firm, clean lines of his body, his long legs, his muscled forearms under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. As he finishes, he catches her looking, and she smiles coyly at him.
"What? he asks. "What's that look for?"
"I spoke to my mother this morning," she says. "I arranged for a farm hand to help her with Sunday morning's chores again." Mulder sets the last clean mug on its shelf and turns to her.
"Oh?"
"Mm-hmm." She nods. "And I told her I've been tired... and not to expect me at mass tomorrow morning." She can't stop the playful smile that spreads over her face, and Mulder answers it readily.
"And what did you have planned?" he asks. She crosses the room, never breaking eye contact, and leans against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat thudding at a gallop where she's touching him.
"Why don't we go upstairs," she whispers, "and maybe you'll find out?" She draws away from him with difficulty, already craving his touch, and walks towards the stairs.
He takes her by the arm and pulls her back against him, suddenly and roughly. His lips cover hers, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth, and when he slides one strong arm under her and lifts her up, she can't suppress a cry of surprise. At the sound she makes he looks as though he's going to put her down, but she can't have that, and so she encircles him tightly in her legs and kisses him again. Before she has time to think about it, she's going positively feral on him, scratching at his scalp and grinding her hips against him, desperate for more contact. Already he's hard and hot underneath her, and she wants to get at him so badly she doesn't know how she's going to wait for him to take off his clothes.
Suddenly he breaks away from her, and she whimpers in protest as he tries to still the rocking of her hips
"Scully," he gasps, "if you don't stop that, we're never going to make it upstairs." She doesn't care. She kisses her way back along his chin towards his ear, then whispers into it, loving the way he shudders against her.
"Going upstairs was just a suggestion, Mulder," she says. "You can feel free to ignore it, if you'd like." As badly as she wants to resume seeking friction from his stiff member where it's pressing against her, she waits to see what he'll do.
For a moment, he's perfectly still, and she can see him running over the options in his mind: the floor? The butcher's block? The counter? Watching him, she feels her entire mouth go dry, and she licks her lips. That simply motion seems to set Mulder off, and with a groan, he strides across the kitchen and presses her up against the wall. There's a dull thunk as her head smacks into the boards behind her, but if there's any pain, she's completely unaware of it. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her again, her hands beating his to his belt buckle, which she undoes at top speed. She makes quick work of his button fly and uses both her hands and feet to shove his pants to the kitchen floor. She yanks at the bottom of her skirt, rucking it up and out of the way, and as she does, she feels the hand not cupping her bottom snaking its way up and under her blouse. Oh, yes, she thinks, as he strokes her breast, just this side of rough, nothing gentle in his touch at all. She presses her chest against him with a sigh, and he rewards her with a sharp pinch of her nipple that sets off a flood of wetness between her legs.
Scully locates the slit in the front of Mulder's boxer shorts and takes his cock firmly in her hand. He goes almost totally still as she draws him out- he's scarcely breathing- and privately, she thrills at the sheer size of him. She can't possibly wait another moment, and she can tell by the wild look in his eyes that neither can he, and so she spreads her legs wider, bracing her feet against him, and positions him, taking him by the hip and pulling him towards her until she's positively, achingly full of every last inch of him. He presses his forehead to hers, overwhelmed, and as badly as she wants him to move, now, she allows him this moment.
When at last he begins the smooth liquid slide in and out of her, his rhythm is slow, languid, unhurried. It's delicious, certainly... but right now, she's already nearly halfway there, and a sense of urgency hums through her limbs like electricity. There will be time for sweetness and slow caresses later, but now, this first time, it's not what she needs. And he must sense it, somehow, just by looking at her, because he speeds up. She whimpers gratefully into his neck, tasting his sweat, and clutches tightly at him. He's still holding back, though, and so she urges him on.
"Harder," she whispers. He draws back, looking into her face for reassurance that she means it, that she wants it, and she answers him with the tiniest of nods. He slides one hand between the back of her head and the wall, cushioning her, and sets up a bone-jarring, spine-rattling pace, slamming her against the wall again and again, the steady thud-thud-thud of her back against the wood and the wet slap-slap-slap of their bodies filling the entire kitchen. That's all it takes to send her flying, climaxing so hard she nearly blacks out, crying out his name as the wave overtakes her. Dimly she's aware that he's coming as well, bellowing into her neck.
Standing is suddenly too much for him, and she feels her back sliding along the wall as they drop slowly to the tiled floor. She curls her body against him and concentrates on getting her breath back, not quite aware that he's speaking... until she realizes that he's apologizing.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "This wasn't how I intended this to be." She shakes her head against his neck, still too weak to lift it.
"Mulder, don't you dare apologize," she says firmly. "I don't see how anything could possibly have been better than that. That was incredible." She feels him smiling against the top of her head and she snuggles closer... until a sudden, loud knock at the kitchen door makes her jump out of her skin. She jerks away from him and stands on legs that are still incredibly unsteady, hastily straightening her blouse and her skirt. Underneath, she can feel his seed dripping down her leg, and even in the midst of her fright, of wondering who's at her door at this hour, she suddenly realizes: they hadn't used a condom. Shit.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Mulder asks, his voice low. Scully shakes her head. Mulder's got his pants buckled, though his shirt is still untucked, and he's retrieved his pistol from the kitchen counter where he'd left it earlier. But as he's advancing on the door, a familiar shout comes from the other side.
"Scully," yells Frohike, "open up, it's us!" Scully motions to Mulder to lower the gun.
"It's all right, they're some of my contacts, they're safe," she assures him, crossing the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting them tonight, though." She opens the door, revealing not just Frohike, but Byers and Langly, as well. They troop into the kitchen, one after the other, and Scully closes and locks the door behind them. She turns back, ready to introduce him to Mulder... and finds that all three of them are gaping at him in total shock.
"Mulder?" Frohike's voice is squeaky with surprise, and Scully whips her head around to look at him.
"You know each other?" she asks. "How?"
"Oxford," says Mulder. "They were two years ahead of me. Frohike sort of adopted me as a long-lost little brother." Scully tries to think back. She'd known they'd gone to Oxford, but now she tries to remember whether any of the odd trio have ever mentioned exactly what years they had attended school. She draws a blank. They haven't exactly exchanged many personal details; it's all in the nature of the operation. Scully doesn't even know the names of some of the men who deliver refugees and supplies to her.
"We used to print a newspaper," Langly tells her, "and Mulder helped us distribute it sometimes."
"I don't know if you could call it a newspaper," Mulder intones. "It was a monthly five pages of nonsense refuting everything the actual school paper printed."
"Hey, somebody had to call the Cherwell out for printing nonstop lies," insists Frohike. Scully shakes her head slowly, a smile spreading over her face. Now that it's clear that there's no danger, the knot in her stomach has loosened, and her playful mood is returning.
"Mulder, you helped produce an underground newspaper?" she teases him, and he ducks his head.
"'Produce' is overstating things a bit," says Mulder. "All I did was occasionally drop a stack of them in the common room when nobody was paying attention, in exchange for Frohike buying me drinks at the pub later that night."
"Mulder is your new source in the German army?" asks Byers, and Scully nods.
"That's right," says Scully. Frohike beams and tries to clap Mulder on the shoulder, which he can't quite reach, and settles for thumping him mid-back.
"Good man," he says. "Always knew you were a troublemaker at heart. We taught you well."
"I'm assuming you're with Dutch-Paris, then?" asks Mulder.
"For the past two years," confirms Frohike. "Trust the Dutch to do what the French can't. No offense intended, of course," he says as an aside to Scully. She sighs and shakes her head- it's a long-standing joke between them, and she knows he's not insulting her.
"As much as I hate to break up the reunion," she says, "I need to know: what are you three doing here? Has something happened?" She desperately hopes not- aside from not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening, she's in no fit state to tend to anyone just now.
"We've got a group hiding off of the road a few miles north of town," says Byers. "We know it's risky, breaking curfew, but we were careful, and we need to move fast. It's cold and we need to get the little ones someplace warm. We came to find out if it's safe to bring them to your mother's for a few days, and we need you to help us arrange transportation for them." Scully lets out a relieved breath. This, she can handle. She won't even need to leave the kitchen.
"How many? And where are you taking them next?"
"A mother and three children. We only need to get them to Limoges," says Langly. "Our contact there is making identification papers for them, and then we're getting them on a train south. We had a truck arranged already, but they never showed up at the last meeting point." Scully thinks for a moment. There's no reason that she can think of why her mother shouldn't be able to help out- none of her current employees are living on the farm, and as long as Maggie is made aware of the family's presence before she leaves for mass, she'll be able to hide them in the house or in one of the outbuildings. Sighing inwardly, she realizes she'll need to go to church in the morning, to go to confession, to talk to the priest and make arrangements.
"Take them to my mother's and put them in the barn," she tells Frohike. "Wait until daylight to knock on my mother's door. She'll feed them and give them a room. I'll make the arrangements first thing in the morning and send word to my mother as soon as everything is set up." She turns to Mulder. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but it looks like I'm going to need to go to mass tomorrow morning after all."
"Why would he care about that?" asks Langly, confused. Byers digs his elbow into Langly's side. "What?" When no explanation is forthcoming, he frowns at Mulder and Scully... and then, suddenly, he seems to get it, and gives them both a decidedly lecherous grin. Scully decides that's the signal to send them off.
"All right, time to go," she states. She pushes Langly roughly back towards the door. Byers sighs, shaking his head.
"As you can see, he's about as mature as he was the last time you saw him," he says. "I've done what I can, but when you're already working with damaged raw materials...." He shrugs, and Mulder laughs.
"I take it I'll be seeing the three of you again?" he asks, and Frohike nods, grinning.
"Count on it," he says. He bows to Scully. "Mademoiselle Scully, a pleasure, as always." Scully responds only by pushing him out of the door; she's had quite enough of Frohike's charms for one evening. She closes the door, throws the bolt, and turns, leaning against it, eyes closed.
"Of course you know each other," she says. "They told me they met at Oxford and it never even crossed my mind that they might have been there at the same time as you." She shakes her head. "I didn't mean to announce our relationship to them like that. I'm sorry." Mulder looks anything but. His smile is warm and tender as he walks towards her, sliding his arms around her and pulling her close.
"Don't be," he reassures her. "You think I'm anything other than proud to call a woman like you my own?"
"Is that what I am?" she asks. "Your own?" In the past, the very idea would have rankled and raised her hackles... but somehow, when Mulder says it, all it does is make her melt.
"I'd like to think so," he murmurs, touching his forehead gently to hers, "but ultimately, I think you get the final say." And that's exactly why I don't mind when he says it, she thinks to herself. Because he would never assume it without my permission.
"You know what my answer is," she says. "I'm yours. Absolutely and completely." And as if to prove it she kisses him deeply, passionately, and then draws back. "And I think it's time for you to take me upstairs now."
---------
She leads him to her bedroom, where they stretch out languidly on her bed, kissing softly, slowly, all sense of urgency gone, replaced by a soothing warmth. He removes her shirt and camisole almost reverently, kissing each new inch of skin as he discovers it, and when he bends his head to take her nipple in his mouth, she moans and gasps. Once he's moved his attention to her skirt, divesting her of that, as well, she sits up.
"If I'm going to be naked, you are, too," she says, and he's more than agreeable to the idea. She rids him of his jacket, just as she had that first night she'd cared for him on her sofa, and he rips off his undershirt. Her eyes roam over the expanse of his muscled chest, and she likes the view, wants to see more of it. She's got his belt undone in seconds flat.
"You're awfully adept at that," he remarks... and for a moment she's scared, for the first time tonight. She's never led him to believe that she'd been a virgin... but, then, he'd never asked. She meets his eyes, her stomach clenched, but he's smiling.
"I was nervous you'd be upset that you weren't my first," she admits.
"Scully," he says gently, "who you've been with and what you've done before we met, that's your business. I don't care. All I care about is that you're here with me now." As he gazes at her, cupping her cheek in his hand, she sees something shifting in the depths of his eyes. "Scully," he says, "I love you."
It's too much. She can't meet his eyes anymore. She's not surprised, not really- she's known that he's smitten- but she hadn't expected him to admit it. She grasps about for something to say, something to lighten the serious mood.
"My mother told me never to believe anything a man tells you with his clothes off," she says, nodding at his bare chest.
"Hey, I've still got my pants on, haven't I? So I'm at least half-dressed." She chuckles, relieved he's going along with her, instead of being offended that she didn't immediately say it back.
"Does that mean it's only half-true?" she asks.
"No, Scully," he promises. "It's completely true. I'm in love with you. I've never felt this way about anyone before in my life."
"Neither have I," she whispers. The words are out almost before she can stop them.
"Really?" She nods. She can't quite bring herself to meet his eyes, to let him see the tears she's struggling to hold back. This is the part she's never been good at: the letting go, the letting in, the opening of her heart to another person.
Gentle fingers touch under her chin, bringing her head up to meet his gaze. In his eyes she finds nothing but naked adoration, understanding... and a tiny bit of fear. She realizes that he doesn't know, isn't sure how she feels, and she can't leave him in suspense another moment.
"I love you too, Mulder," she says. His eyes flood with tears and he gathers her to him, holding her close and rocking her back and forth.
When Scully finally sleeps, hours later, curled in Mulder's arms under the warmth of the feather duvet, she feels, for the first time, as if the bed is no longer too large.
Next Chapter >
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i'm here || isaac lahey
word count: 2392
warnings: loss of power
request: Can I request an Isaac imagine... Isaac is in love with the reader who's a witch and during the Nemeton she was also taken with Chris and she lost her powers and he comforts her. She moves in with Scott to help cope and she has nightmares about it about her not being able to do anything and he helps her get through eventually kissing her toes lo with her panic attack about it. Sorry if it doesn't make any sense
author’s note: this has been posted before but was deleted, so now i am reposting it! enjoy! all the witch stuff is inspired by bonnie bennett from the vampire diaries!
I found it!” I yelled as my head shot up from the Grimoire that was in my lap. “I found it. I know how to do it.”
The pack and I were currently looking for a spell that could help us save Mr. Argent, Melissa, and Sheriff Stilinski from being sacrificed by the darach. I've been looking for this for hours, up all night trying to find a spell in a huge book that witches have made throughout the centuries. A Grimoire is basically a witch’s cookbook.
“Will it work?” Isaac walked over to me and looked over my shoulder looking at the faded etchings that were almost undecipherable. I don't think he would've been able to read if it was in bold, black ink because it was written in Latin, not English.
“It might. It's worth a chance.” I looked to everyone in the room. Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Isaac and Deaton were all here searching for something that could save their parents’ lives. Scott had gone with Deucalion because he thought all hope was lost and only he could help save his mother.
“What do we have to do?” Allison immediately asked.
I sighed, not knowing if they'd be willing to go through with this. “Y/N,” Allison spoke sternly. “What is it?”
“You guys have to temporarily die if this will work.” I blurted out. All their eyes widened. “However, I can bring you back. Essentially, you, Stiles, and Scott need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.”
“You know how to bring us back, right?” Stiles questioned.
I nodded and continued with the instructions. “If we do this, power will be given back to the Nemeton, and the Nemeton hasn't had power like that in a long time. With power like this, Beacon Hills will draw in many supernatural creatures. Creatures that could fill the pages of a bestiary with.”
“So Beacon Hills will become a beacon, again?” Lydia questioned, but sounded more like a statement.
“Doesn't sound worse than anything we haven't already seen.” Stiles shrugged.
“You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see.” Deaton told him.
“Is that it?” Isaac asked. I looked behind me and saw him leaning against a counter.
“No.” I shook my head. “It will also have an effect on all three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll be able to feel it everyday for the rest of your lives.”
Deaton spoke up once again. “It'll be a sort of darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.” I nodded in agreement because he practically took the words out of my mouth.
We sent Stiles and Allison home so they could go and find things belonging to their parents that would help connect them. Stiles had also called Scott and told him everything he needed to know, he agreed to do it.
Isaac, Lydia, Deaton, and I all stayed at the animal clinic preparing the ice tubs. I need herbs to put in the tubs that would help me draw power into the spell so I wouldn't exhaust myself.
“Y/N.” Isaac whispered as I read over the spell once again.
“Yes, Isaac?” I turned my head to see him standing in the doorway.
“Are you sure you can do this? I mean, this is dark stuff. You've never done anything like this before.” He asked. I sighed and looked away from him.
“Isaac, I'm doing this for our friends. This is their parents we’re talking about. I need to save them.”
“This kind of power can kill you, Y/N. You've told me many times that you can't do this kind of magic without their being consequences. You told me you would never do something this dark.”
“That was before the closest thing I've had to parents lives were on the line. My parents left me as soon as I found out I was a witch and Melissa took me in as her daughter. I'm not letting her die if I can do something about it.”
Isaac took my hands into his. “What if you die, Y/N? I can't lose you. You're all I have left.” He whispered.
“You won't. I'll be fine, I promise.” I removed one of my hands from his and cupped his jaw.
“I need to tell you something, Y/N.” His blue eyes pierced into my Y/E/C ones.
I felt my eyes brows scrunch up with my hand still on his jaw. “What is it?”
“I-I love you.” His stuttered whisper spoke.
My heart swelled at his words. I've had feelings for him for a while now, but I always thought they were one sided. “I love you, too, Isaac.”
Before anything else could be done, Lydia walked into the room. “Hey, we're ready whenever you are.” She said before looking up at us. Lydia started walking back out of the room with a smirk. “Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting. I'll just be in…”
“We’ll continue this later.” Isaac said, and I nodded. I stood up from the chair I was on and grabbed the Grimoire and walked into the back room, Isaac following close behind. There was three tubs filled with ice and mistletoe that would be necessary for the spell.
Allison, Scott, and Stiles all stepped up to the three tubs. Isaac, Lydia, Deaton, and I all looked at them before Deaton spoke. “All right, what did you guys bring?”
Stiles raised his hand. He was holding Sheriff Stilinski’s badge. It was a little smashed, but it still somehow looked the same. “Jennifer kind of smashed it in her hand. I hammered it out a bit. Still doesn't look great.”
“It doesn't have to look good if it has meaning.” I softly smiled at my spastic best friend which he returned before nodding and looking back to the badge, still shining in his hands.
I looked to Allison just as she held up a bullet. “Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked in awe.
“My dad made it. It's sort of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finished learning all the skills to be a Hunter, you forge your own silver bullet as a testament to the code.”
“Scott?” Deaton gestured for him to speak about his.
He held up a watch, one that I’d seen Melissa wear on multiple occasions. “My dad gave this to my mom when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.”
Stiles looked over the watch. “It says water-resistant. Not waterproof.”
Scott shrugged. “I don't think she's going to mind if it saves her life.”
“The three of you get in. We’ll each hold you down but it needs to be someone who can pull you back. An emotional tether.” I said. Lydia started toward Allison, but I was the one holding her down as I said the spell, so I stopped her.
“Lydia,” I looked between her and Stiles. “You go with Stiles.”
“Are you sure? I mean Scott and I both have to go under.” Allison asked.
“I'll be holding you down as I say the spell. Isaac you'll be with Scott, Lydia with Stiles, and I'm with Allison.” They all nodded as Scott, Stiles, and Allison got in the tubs.
Stiles turned to Scott as soon as they were both sitting in the cold water. “If I don't come back, there's something you should know. Your dad is back in town.”
After a few moments, we pushed them under and I closed my eyes and started chanting the spell. “Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus.” I repeated the words again and again until they were gone.
When I removed my hands from Allison’s shoulders and stood up, I got really light headed. I started getting dizzy. I closed my eyes to see it that would help reverse the dizziness, but it didn't work. “I'll be back.” I mumbled. I walked to the bathroom and closed the door.
Looking in the mirror, I started to see lights flicker around me. Then I got this piercing pain in my head. It felt worse than a headache. It was almost as if someone was slowly digging a pin or needle into my temple. I heard voices chanting and I knew it was the spirits of the witches.
They were angry. They were angry with me. They are yelling in a whisper in Latin, but I knew all they were saying. “You have disobeyed us. You have used your power for dark magic. We warned you there was to be consequences for disobeying us. Now you must be punished.”
The pain in my head got more intense and I started screaming. The louder I screamed, the more the lights flickered and the louder the spirits chanted. I could feel my nose bleeding and the power being drained from my body. Witches can usually feel the elements like wind, air, water, fire, and earth. As the pain got worse, I could feel my connections with these things draining until all of a sudden I felt empty.
The lights stopped flickering and the voices were suddenly silenced. As everything was happening my screams of pain were mixed with sobs. My head finally stopped hurting and I dropped to the floor. I sobbed on the ground. I had upset the balance and now I must deal with the consequences. They took my power. I had no way of getting them back.
I didn't hear the banging on the door until just now. “Y/N! What's going on? What happened? Baby, talk to me! Y/N! Y/N!” Isaac’s voice shouted through the door. Eventually I heard the door come off the hinges and Isaac’s footsteps came toward me. Isaac picked me up and held me in his arms. I finally opened my eyes and saw Lydia standing in the doorway panting.
“Y/N, what happened?” Isaac whispered, his face full of worry and concern.
I held back my sobs so I could speak. “The took away my powers. My magic is gone.” I gasped out and began crying again. I pressed my head against his chest as he ran his long, slender fingers through my hair.
“Shh. I'm here. I’ve got you. I'll help you through this.” He reassured me.
We saved Chris, Stilinski, and Melissa from being sacrificed and the pack defeated Jennifer and the Alpha Pack. Everything was good because we had won and saved the parents. For me, I couldn't deal with the absence of my magic. Every single night I would have nightmares.
The witches would be screaming at me like they did when they took my powers. I tried looking for ways to get the magic back, but it was no use. I even went as far as finding a place to harness leftover energy from a witch’s death. I simply couldn't cast spells and I could absorb any new magic.
I lived at the McCall house with Scott, Melissa, and Isaac. Melissa had taken me in a long time ago when I was in need of a place to live. The nightmares happened every time I tried sleeping. I would be standing in the middle of an old, rundown house. There was cobwebs and dust in every nook and cranny and on every piece of furniture.
I would be standing there until the fire started and the voices started yelling at me. They would speak in multiple languages. The languages would range from Latin to French to even Greek. I spoke many languages and understood everything they said.
“You will spend the rest of your life in dreams like these.”
“You fueled and unhealthy balance of nature.”
“The consequences aren't only on your hands, they're going to ruin the lives of many.”
“Everything that's going to happen is your fault.”
These were only some of the things they would say. I had to scream myself awake every night. The spirits didn't want me to leave and they wanted me to suffer.
Isaac was the only one keeping me sane through all this. He was my anchor. When I would wake up from my cruel nightmares, Isaac would be running into the room and would try to calm me down. Isaac stayed and let me fall asleep in his arms. When I fell asleep with him, the nightmares didn't come back. Sometimes he would talk to me to calm me down.
Eventually my nightmare problem died down and I started returning back to my normal self. At this point, Isaac and I slept in the same room every night with the permission of Mama McCall. She understood I needed him, but she said no funny business.
“If there is any sexual situations happening in that room, I will find you and kill you myself. I do not need to be on a reality show with a pregnant 17 year old.”
“Don't worry, Melissa. Nothing like that will happen.” Isaac told her and I nodded in agreement.
My powers didn't show any sign of coming back, but I was learning to accept not using magic. My adoptive family and my friends showed all kinds of support. Isaac was my biggest form of support and I was beyond thankful for him.
Through this whole thing our unbreakable friendship had grown into an even stronger relationship. Isaac and I didn't make anything official but we spent every waking moment together.
“Y/N?” Isaac said as we sat on the couch in the living room watching a movie.
“What's up?” I looked up at him.
“You like me right?” His eyebrows furrowed.
I giggled. “Isaac, I think we're past liking at this point. I love you. I told you that when I admitted my feelings for you.”
“I know.” His warm smile took over his face. “I just want to know, what are we exactly?”
“Well I guess you could call me your girlfriend.” I smiled.
He leaned down and whispered his next words against my lips before pushing his to mine in a soft, yet meaningful kiss. “In that case, I guess you can call me your boyfriend.”
#teen wolf#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf imagines#teen wolf smut#teen wolf smuts#isaac lahey#isaac lahey imagine#isaac lahey imagines#isaac lahey smut#isaac lahey smuts#daniel sharman#daniel sharman imagine#daniel sharman imagines#daniel sharman smut#daniel sharman smuts#tw#tw imagine#tw imagines#tw smut#tw smuts#tw season 6
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Un Ojo Para Una Vida (Part 1)
I’ll post this in parts, but it’s a little story attached to lore from my askblog, @ask-the-iron-queen, more specifically, a bit of backstory on the new character introduced, Lady Melissa Foster.
The characters here are human, unlike how they are pokemon in the blog.
Read on if you’re interested.
I knew from the day we separated that he would come crawling back to me.
What I didn't know was that being of flesh, blood and bone once more would come with an unspoken price.
Shadows of a past that I never knew, a past that wasn't even mine. These heavy shadows being lugged behind me and constantly eating at my very existence - following me around, making me feel anxious and uneasy.
This is especially true given the flesh and bone that make me up now doesn’t even belong to me. Or, it didn’t anyway. I’m still adjusting.
One shadow that I do welcome with open arms, even until this day, is the fateful evening that I was reunited with my beloved. While this was my own shadow of the past, what I feared was a shadow that wasn’t my own. If it wasn’t for the shadow of my flesh, blood and bone, then I wouldn’t have met my love one again. While thankful, this night had somewhat traumatized me for years to come. The velvet puddle under the limp, suited body is engraved into the insides of my eyelids, even now after about 10 years. I can’t help but feel like it was my fault, but I have no recollection of the person that was dead in front of me, even though he recognized me.
It was rather cool that evening and for the first time in years, the Renaissance King Fernando, the first monarch of the Royal Isles, had finally hosted yet another Royal Ball. The timing was a bit weird, because unlike the first time he hosted such an event at Castillo Hayañil, he seemed to randomly call for it in the midst of the infamous Cryptic War. Not that there were any imminent threats at the time since most soldiers were sent overseas to fight battles and the city was generally untouched, but stuff like this Royal Ball were usually held during peacetime, when feelings of anxiety and fear were but a distant memory.
I remember bringing this very point up to Lady Katherine Foxwell, Fernando’s advisor and head of El Departamento de la Guerra (Department of War) for the Royal Isles. She was a generally bubbly personality and as expected, she just smiled and said:
“Why not? Another Royal Ball would help ease the tension a bit for the Royal Islanders! Sure, it would be better to use it as a celebration for the end of the war, but God knows when it’ll end! Might as well have some fun now and get our minds off it.”
Immediately, I knew that Fernando’s decision to host this event in the castle was heavily influenced by Katherine. Most of his decisions were, after all. The man was generally stubborn and strong-willed but when it came to Katherine, he became putty in her hands. It was clear that the pair shared some sort of romantic bond, but none of that was any of my business at all. Either way, a few weeks later the Royal Ball commenced nonetheless. Fernando’s troops, the Soldados Sombras (Shadow Soldiers) were being shipped over to the nations of the Contrasoviet Confederation and Himilaya to fight off Dictatorial Forces under King Thapa and Tsar Danylo, who were in an alliance with Fernando’s nemesis, Tobias Messieri. Some stuck around here in Hayañil to train and to keep guard of the castillo. Thank God for them though, bless their brave souls. If it wasn’t for them, I don’t think I’d be here writing this following the disaster that occurred during the ball.
Anyway, the Royal Ball, yes. It was a lovely little event. Katherine of course casually invited me weeks in advance and I immediately bought a lovely lavender flamenco dress and did my hair the way those Flamenco girls do. I mean, I surely wasn’t the only one who wore this outfit, but I felt like it would be fitting. The last Royal Ball had a ton of tango pieces performed by the talented Royal Musicians after all, and I’d very much rather do that than waltz.
(More under the cut!)
My date was an older man, roughly in his 40’s I believe. A very notable man too. A college professor by the name of Guillermo Escudero. For a man of his age, he was outstandingly handsome and looked like he was in at least his 30’s, with ginger hair that looked like fire and tranquil blue eyes that seemed to take your breath away. He had a number of freckles right under his eyes, and he almost looked like a kid. But god, he was such a heartthrob. Though maybe that’s just me talking. I met him while working on one of Fernando’s war machines one day, I decided to work outside rather than in the hangar to get some fresh air and he kept saying “Hi” to me and starting chit chat every time he walked back from his daily lectures. He was a history professor or something, he always loved the topic of Piracy’s Golden Age. You know, those stereotypical pirates that say “Arrrrrgh” and “X marks the spot” and shit like that.
He really loved what he did, and I really admired that in a man. The small talk he and I engaged in soon evolved to full-on dating and though we never really did anything physical, we were the best of friends. Hell, this Royal Ball was the first time we’d even touch one another in some way and we were both completely okay with that. But there was something about him that reminded me of Finn, oh my sweet Finn. He was a darling too, but I don’t think there was a way I could see him again after we got separated those many years ago. I guess dating similar-looking guys was a bit of a coping mechanism or something.
The Dance was held in the ballroom of the newly erected Castillo Hayañil, King Fernando’s castle in the center of the city. The chandelier dangling from the stone ceiling glowed dimly, with the faux diamonds that hung from it’s arms and around the light bulbs refracting the faint orange light throughout the ballroom. The polished stone floors were gently draped over by a velvet red carpet with gilded lining and against the walls were marble tables with punch and small refreshments, from empanadas to chicharrones con vinagre. The stone pillars and wooden interior balconies towered above the dancers below at the edges of the room, small candlelit lanterns burning gently on each side, helping the chandelier above bring more light to the show beneath them all. A large wooden door was left ajar at the front of the room - clearly the entrance to the ballroom, and two winding staircases made of polished wood, led up to the top balconies on the front and back of the castle as well as other rooms. On the walls behind the pillars were paintings of all kinds, made by all kinds of uncredited artists, works that I’ve never even seen before placed in golden frames that had leaves carved into them as well as other intricate patterns. Each painting had the Royal Islander Coat of Arms carved into the top of the frame - El Diamante de Casa Boromeo (the Diamond of Casa Borromeo).
Those participating in the Royal Ball were mostly the prominent of Hayañil that were invited by either Katherine or Fernando but others that attended were usual citizens that were able to afford tickets to get in. Not that I minded that, it’s nice to get to mingle with people you’ve never met before and get to know them. One couple I met was particularly interesting. They both moved from the wasteland that was the United States to Hayañil at the start of the war since the husband, Francisco, wanted to serve as part of Fernando’s Soldados Sombras. Francisco was a doctor and his wife, Marie, was a nurse. He was registered to practice here in Hayañil and so was his wife, but the war had given him other things to do. He fought in the bloody “Batalla de Roma” a few years prior while his wife stayed in Hayañil to practice nursing. When he returned he was put on reserve and since then, has been getting to know the capital city and the people that lived in it a little more. Hence, why he and his wife were here. He wanted to get to meet the other professionals of the city, and he was definitely in the right place for that. He claimed that he lived in the city of Rey de Los Islas before it was even called that, but he didn’t really go into detail.
We all came flooding in with big ol’ smiles on our faces when the clocktower outside struck 7pm that night, couples dressed in elaborate dresses of different colors and suits or tuxes of different cuts and styles. The decor of the ballroom was rather simple, with banners of the Royal Isles’ flag pinned to the stone walls of the room between each glimmering candle lantern. But the elaborate chandelier, the paintings on the wall and the sculptures on the tables of food were what garnered the most attention. The musicians were setting up their music stands and tuning their instruments in an area toward the back of the room, right between the two large staircases. They all stood in front of a large glass door that overlooked a small grassy field, the jungle beyond it seen in the distance. Obviously the uncharted area of Hayañil.
After about 15 minutes of preparing the music to be performed for the evening, I saw the castle maid, La Eterna herself, Cecilia Lacroix readying her violin with a grin and a nod toward the Royal Conductor. He nodded back in understanding and curled his fingers on the ivory of his piano to prepare his piece. As soon as the music played, the dancers began to hold each other and start performing all kinds of complicated, circus-worthy twirls and twists while holding one another. This was when Guillermo jokingly knelt on one knee in front of me, kissed the back of my hand and with a smile asked “Puedo tener esta danza?” (May I have this dance?) I quickly fixed my hair and replied with an excited “Sí, mi amor.” before we began to embrace and move along to the music, our movements melodiously coordinating with the violins.
I know this is probably getting rather dull by now, but no worries. I won’t go into detail about how the night went on before shit went down. Besides, it was basically just Guillermo and I getting to know each other and dancing the night away with the others while some were off to the side socializing and munching on goodies and admiring the paintings between the pillars and whatnot. At one point, a very strange song began to play in the midst of people just mingling and talking that caught us all of guard and next thing we know a couple comes down from the upper balcony and starts waltzing in the center of the ballroom like it was nobody’s business. Of course, this couple was Lady Katherine and King Fernando but they were dancing together, for the very first time. It pretty much confirmed the talk of the town that Fernando and Katherine had a thing for one another, but man did they did they turn heads, that night. Katherine had this elaborate silk gown was absolutely dazzling. Very European in style with all kinds of shades of yellow and even some white and red thrown in the mix. It was like she was straight out of a ballroom in Vienna or something. Fernando, on the other hand didn’t even seem to dress formally, only wearing his usual buttoned silk shirt with the battlement-shaped patterns on the cuffs and the bottoms of the shirt with black dress pants and dress shoes, still donning the onyx crown upon his head. It was a cute little waltz, they both looked absolutely adorable! According to Cecilia, the waltz they played was a piece written by Katherine herself, which was surprising given I had no idea that she had musical skills in her. Honestly, I think that was the first time in years I’ve seen Fernando’s face light up like that. Who knew that all it really took was a short little brunette wearing an elaborate, yellow silk gown to make the miserable son of a bitch smile? She was clearly having a ball, and the two seemed to have a lot of chemistry together. Its a shame they never really went anywhere with that relationship.
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The Best Books To Read During The Last Week Of May
Unsplash / Les Anderson IF YOU WANT SOMETHING TO READ ON THE BEACH…Amazon The High Tide Club by Mary Kay Andrews “When ninety-nine-year-old heiress Josephine Bettendorf Warrick summons Brooke Trappnell to Talisa Island, her 20,000 acre remote barrier island home, Brooke is puzzled. Everybody in the South has heard about the eccentric millionaire mistress of Talisa, but Brooke has never met her. Josephine’s cryptic note says she wants to discuss an important legal matter with Brooke, who is an attorney, but Brooke knows that Mrs. Warrick has long been a client of a prestigious Atlanta law firm. Over a few meetings, the ailing Josephine spins a tale of old friendships, secrets, betrayal and a long-unsolved murder. She tells Brooke she is hiring her for two reasons: to protect her island and legacy from those who would despoil her land, and secondly, to help her make amends with the heirs of the long dead women who were her closest friends, the girls of The High Tide Club—so named because of their youthful skinny dipping escapades—Millie, Ruth and Varina. When Josephine dies with her secrets intact, Brooke is charged with contacting Josephine’s friends’ descendants and bringing them together on Talisa for a reunion of women who’ve actually never met.” Amazon The Glitch by Elisabeth Cohen “Shelley Stone, wife, mother, and CEO of the tech company Conch, is committed to living her most efficient life. She takes her ‘me time’ at 3:30 a.m. on the treadmill, power naps while waiting in line, schedules sex with her husband for when they are already changing clothes, and takes a men’s multivitamin because she refuses to participate in her own oppression. But when she meets a young woman also named Shelley Stone who has the same exact scar on her shoulder, Shelley has to wonder: Is she finally buckling under all the pressure?” IF YOU WANT SOMETHING THAT WILL TURN YOU ON… AmazonThe Pisces by Melissa Broder “Lucy has been writing her dissertation on Sappho for nine years when she and her boyfriend break up in a dramatic flameout. After she bottoms out in Phoenix, her sister in Los Angeles insists Lucy dog-sit for the summer. Annika’s home is a gorgeous glass cube on Venice Beach, but Lucy can find little relief from her anxiety — not in the Greek chorus of women in her love addiction therapy group, not in her frequent Tinder excursions, not even in Dominic the foxhound’s easy affection. Everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer while sitting alone on the beach rocks one night. But when Lucy learns the truth about his identity, their relationship, and Lucy’s understanding of what love should look like, take a very unexpected turn. A masterful blend of vivid realism and giddy fantasy, pairing hilarious frankness with pulse-racing eroticism, THE PISCES is a story about falling in obsessive love with a merman: a figure of Sirenic fantasy whose very existence pushes Lucy to question everything she thought she knew about love, lust, and meaning in the one life we have.” Amazon Tell Me Lies by Carola Lovering “Lucy Albright is far from her Long Island upbringing when she arrives on the campus of her small California college, and happy to be hundreds of miles from her mother, whom she’s never forgiven for an act of betrayal in her early teen years. Quickly grasping at her fresh start, Lucy embraces college life and all it has to offer—new friends, wild parties, stimulating classes. And then she meets Stephen DeMarco. Charming. Attractive. Complicated. Devastating. Confident and cocksure, Stephen sees something in Lucy that no one else has, and she’s quickly seduced by this vision of herself, and the sense of possibility that his attention brings her. Meanwhile, Stephen is determined to forget an incident buried in his past that, if exposed, could ruin him, and his single-minded drive for success extends to winning, and keeping, Lucy’s heart. Lucy knows there’s something about Stephen that isn’t to be trusted. Stephen knows Lucy can’t tear herself away. And their addicting entanglement will have consequences they never could have imagined.” IF YOU WANT TO SIT ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT… AmazonMr. Flood’s Last Resort by Jess Kidd “Maud Drennan is a dedicated caregiver whose sunny disposition masks a deep sadness. A tragic childhood event left her haunted, in the company of a cast of prattling saints who pop in and out of her life like tourists. Other than visiting her agoraphobic neighbor, Maud keeps to herself, finding solace in her work and in her humble existence–until she meets Mr. Flood. Cathal Flood is a menace by all accounts. The lone occupant of a Gothic mansion crawling with feral cats, he has been waging war against his son’s attempts to put him into an old-age home and sent his last caretaker running for the madhouse. But Maud is this impossible man’s last chance: if she can help him get the house in order, he just might be able to stay. So the unlikely pair begins to cooperate, bonding over their shared love of Irish folktales and mutual dislike of Mr. Flood’s overbearing son. Still, shadows are growing in the cluttered corners of the mansion, hinting at buried family secrets, and reminding Maud that she doesn’t really know this man at all. When the forgotten case of a missing schoolgirl comes to light, she starts poking around, and a full-steam search for answers begins.” Amazon Princess by James Patterson and Rees Jones “When the head of the world’s foremost investigation agency receives at invitation to meet Princess Caroline, third in line to the British throne, he boards his Gulfstream jet and flies straight to London. The Princess needs Morgan’s skills, and his discretion. Sophie Edwards, a close friend of the Princess, has gone missing. She needs to be found before the media become aware of it. Morgan knows there is more to this case than he is being told.” IF YOU USUALLY PREFER MOVIES TO BOOKS… AmazonThe Favorite Sister by Jessica Knoll “When five hyper-successful women agree to appear on a reality series set in New York City called Goal Diggers, the producers never expect the season will end in murder… Brett’s the fan favorite. Tattooed and only twenty-seven, the meteoric success of her spin studio—and her recent engagement to her girlfriend—has made her the object of jealousy and vitriol from her castmates. Kelly, Brett’s older sister and business partner, is the most recent recruit, dismissed as a hanger-on by veteran cast. The golden child growing up, she defers to Brett now—a role which requires her to protect their shocking secret. Stephanie, the first black cast member and the oldest, is a successful bestselling author of erotic novels. There have long been whispers about her hot, non-working actor-husband and his wandering eye, but this season the focus is on the rift that has opened between her and Brett, former best friends—and resentment soon breeds contempt.” AmazonThe Cast by Danielle Steel “Kait Whittier has built her magazine column into a hugely respected read followed by fans across the country. She loves her work and adores her grown children, treasuring the time they spend together. But after two marriages, she prefers to avoid the complications and uncertainties of a new love. Then, after a chance meeting with Zack Winter, a television producer visiting Manhattan from Los Angeles, everything changes. Inspired by the true story of her own indomitable grandmother, Kait creates the storyline for a TV series. And when she shares her work with Zack, he is impressed and decides to make this his next big-budget project. Within weeks, Kait is plunged into a colorful world of actors and industry pros who will bring her vision to life. A cool, competent director. An eccentric young screenwriter. A world-famous actress coping with private tragedy. A reclusive grande dame from Hollywood’s Golden Age. A sizzling starlet whose ego outstrips her abilities. L.A.’s latest ‘bad boy’ actor, whose affairs are setting the city on fire. An unknown ingénue with outsized talent. And a rugged, legendary leading man. As secrets are shared, the cast becomes a second family for Kait. But in the midst of this charmed year, she is suddenly forced to confront the greatest challenge a mother could ever know. The strength of women—across generations and among friends, colleagues, and family—takes center stage in this irresistible novel, as all-too-real people find the courage to persevere in life’s drama of heartbreak and joy.” IF YOU WANT TO LEARN SOMETHING NEW…Amazon How To Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan “When Michael Pollan set out to research how LSD and psilocybin (the active ingredient in magic mushrooms) are being used to provide relief to people suffering from difficult-to-treat conditions such as depression, addiction and anxiety, he did not intend to write what is undoubtedly his most personal book. But upon discovering how these remarkable substances are improving the lives not only of the mentally ill but also of healthy people coming to grips with the challenges of everyday life, he decided to explore the landscape of the mind in the first person as well as the third. Thus began a singular adventure into various altered states of consciousness, along with a dive deep into both the latest brain science and the thriving underground community of psychedelic therapists. Pollan sifts the historical record to separate the truth about these mysterious drugs from the myths that have surrounded them since the 1960s, when a handful of psychedelic evangelists inadvertently catalyzed a powerful backlash against what was then a promising field of research.” AmazonThe Trials of Nina McCall by Scott W. Stern “In 1918, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Nina McCall was told to report to the local health officer to be examined for sexually transmitted infections. Confused and humiliated, Nina did as she was told, and the health officer performed a hasty (and invasive) examination and quickly diagnosed her with gonorrhea. Though Nina insisted she could not possibly have an STI, she was coerced into committing herself to the Bay City Detention Hospital, a facility where she would spend almost three miserable months subjected to hard labor, exploitation, and painful injections of mercury. Nina McCall was one of many women unfairly imprisoned by the United States government throughout the twentieth century. Tens, probably hundreds, of thousands of women and girls were locked up–usually without due process–simply because officials suspected these women were prostitutes, carrying STIs, or just ‘promiscuous.’ This discriminatory program, dubbed the “American Plan,” lasted from the 1910s into the 1950s, implicating a number of luminaries, including Eleanor Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller Jr., Earl Warren, and even Eliot Ness, while laying the foundation for the modern system of women’s prisons. In some places, vestiges of the Plan lingered into the 1960s and 1970s, and the laws that undergirded it remain on the books to this day.” IF SCIENCE FICTION IS MORE YOUR STYLE… AmazonMEM by Bethany C. Morrow “Set in the glittering art deco world of a century ago, MEM makes one slight alteration to history: a scientist in Montreal discovers a method allowing people to have their memories extracted from their minds, whole and complete. The Mems exist as mirror-images of their source — zombie-like creatures destined to experience that singular memory over and over, until they expire in the cavernous Vault where they are kept. And then there is Dolores Extract #1, the first Mem capable of creating her own memories. An ageless beauty shrouded in mystery, she is allowed to live on her own, and create her own existence, until one day she is summoned back to the Vault. What happens next is a gorgeously rendered, heart-breaking novel in the vein of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go.” Amazon84K by Claire North “The penalty for Dani Cumali’s murder: £84,000. Theo works in the Criminal Audit Office. He assesses each crime that crosses his desk and makes sure the correct debt to society is paid in full. These days, there’s no need to go to prison – provided that you can afford to pay the penalty for the crime you’ve committed. If you’re rich enough, you can get away with murder. But Dani’s murder is different. When Theo finds her lifeless body, and a hired killer standing over her and calmly calling the police to confess, he can’t let her death become just an entry on a balance sheet. Someone is responsible. And Theo is going to find them and make them pay.” Read more: thoughtcatalog.com http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/06/11/the-best-books-to-read-during-the-last-week-of-may/
0 notes
Text
The Best Books To Read During The Last Week Of May
New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/the-best-books-to-read-during-the-last-week-of-may/
The Best Books To Read During The Last Week Of May
Unsplash / Les Anderson
IF YOU WANT SOMETHING TO READ ON THE BEACH…
Amazon
The High Tide Club by Mary Kay Andrews
“When ninety-nine-year-old heiress Josephine Bettendorf Warrick summons Brooke Trappnell to Talisa Island, her 20,000 acre remote barrier island home, Brooke is puzzled. Everybody in the South has heard about the eccentric millionaire mistress of Talisa, but Brooke has never met her. Josephine’s cryptic note says she wants to discuss an important legal matter with Brooke, who is an attorney, but Brooke knows that Mrs. Warrick has long been a client of a prestigious Atlanta law firm.
Over a few meetings, the ailing Josephine spins a tale of old friendships, secrets, betrayal and a long-unsolved murder. She tells Brooke she is hiring her for two reasons: to protect her island and legacy from those who would despoil her land, and secondly, to help her make amends with the heirs of the long dead women who were her closest friends, the girls of The High Tide Club—so named because of their youthful skinny dipping escapades—Millie, Ruth and Varina. When Josephine dies with her secrets intact, Brooke is charged with contacting Josephine’s friends’ descendants and bringing them together on Talisa for a reunion of women who’ve actually never met.”
Amazon
The Glitch by Elisabeth Cohen
“Shelley Stone, wife, mother, and CEO of the tech company Conch, is committed to living her most efficient life. She takes her ‘me time’ at 3:30 a.m. on the treadmill, power naps while waiting in line, schedules sex with her husband for when they are already changing clothes, and takes a men’s multivitamin because she refuses to participate in her own oppression.
But when she meets a young woman also named Shelley Stone who has the same exact scar on her shoulder, Shelley has to wonder: Is she finally buckling under all the pressure?”
IF YOU WANT SOMETHING THAT WILL TURN YOU ON…
Amazon
The Pisces by Melissa Broder
“Lucy has been writing her dissertation on Sappho for nine years when she and her boyfriend break up in a dramatic flameout. After she bottoms out in Phoenix, her sister in Los Angeles insists Lucy dog-sit for the summer. Annika’s home is a gorgeous glass cube on Venice Beach, but Lucy can find little relief from her anxiety — not in the Greek chorus of women in her love addiction therapy group, not in her frequent Tinder excursions, not even in Dominic the foxhound’s easy affection.
Everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer while sitting alone on the beach rocks one night. But when Lucy learns the truth about his identity, their relationship, and Lucy’s understanding of what love should look like, take a very unexpected turn. A masterful blend of vivid realism and giddy fantasy, pairing hilarious frankness with pulse-racing eroticism, THE PISCES is a story about falling in obsessive love with a merman: a figure of Sirenic fantasy whose very existence pushes Lucy to question everything she thought she knew about love, lust, and meaning in the one life we have.”
Amazon
Tell Me Lies by Carola Lovering
“Lucy Albright is far from her Long Island upbringing when she arrives on the campus of her small California college, and happy to be hundreds of miles from her mother, whom she’s never forgiven for an act of betrayal in her early teen years. Quickly grasping at her fresh start, Lucy embraces college life and all it has to offer—new friends, wild parties, stimulating classes. And then she meets Stephen DeMarco. Charming. Attractive. Complicated. Devastating.
Confident and cocksure, Stephen sees something in Lucy that no one else has, and she’s quickly seduced by this vision of herself, and the sense of possibility that his attention brings her. Meanwhile, Stephen is determined to forget an incident buried in his past that, if exposed, could ruin him, and his single-minded drive for success extends to winning, and keeping, Lucy’s heart.
Lucy knows there’s something about Stephen that isn’t to be trusted. Stephen knows Lucy can’t tear herself away. And their addicting entanglement will have consequences they never could have imagined.”
IF YOU WANT TO SIT ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT…
Amazon
Mr. Flood’s Last Resort by Jess Kidd
“Maud Drennan is a dedicated caregiver whose sunny disposition masks a deep sadness. A tragic childhood event left her haunted, in the company of a cast of prattling saints who pop in and out of her life like tourists. Other than visiting her agoraphobic neighbor, Maud keeps to herself, finding solace in her work and in her humble existence–until she meets Mr. Flood.
Cathal Flood is a menace by all accounts. The lone occupant of a Gothic mansion crawling with feral cats, he has been waging war against his son’s attempts to put him into an old-age home and sent his last caretaker running for the madhouse. But Maud is this impossible man’s last chance: if she can help him get the house in order, he just might be able to stay. So the unlikely pair begins to cooperate, bonding over their shared love of Irish folktales and mutual dislike of Mr. Flood’s overbearing son.
Still, shadows are growing in the cluttered corners of the mansion, hinting at buried family secrets, and reminding Maud that she doesn’t really know this man at all. When the forgotten case of a missing schoolgirl comes to light, she starts poking around, and a full-steam search for answers begins.”
Amazon
Princess by James Patterson and Rees Jones
“When the head of the world’s foremost investigation agency receives at invitation to meet Princess Caroline, third in line to the British throne, he boards his Gulfstream jet and flies straight to London.
The Princess needs Morgan’s skills, and his discretion. Sophie Edwards, a close friend of the Princess, has gone missing. She needs to be found before the media become aware of it.
Morgan knows there is more to this case than he is being told.”
IF YOU USUALLY PREFER MOVIES TO BOOKS…
Amazon
The Favorite Sister by Jessica Knoll
“When five hyper-successful women agree to appear on a reality series set in New York City called Goal Diggers, the producers never expect the season will end in murder…
Brett’s the fan favorite. Tattooed and only twenty-seven, the meteoric success of her spin studio—and her recent engagement to her girlfriend—has made her the object of jealousy and vitriol from her castmates.
Kelly, Brett’s older sister and business partner, is the most recent recruit, dismissed as a hanger-on by veteran cast. The golden child growing up, she defers to Brett now—a role which requires her to protect their shocking secret.
Stephanie, the first black cast member and the oldest, is a successful bestselling author of erotic novels. There have long been whispers about her hot, non-working actor-husband and his wandering eye, but this season the focus is on the rift that has opened between her and Brett, former best friends—and resentment soon breeds contempt.”
Amazon
The Cast by Danielle Steel
“Kait Whittier has built her magazine column into a hugely respected read followed by fans across the country. She loves her work and adores her grown children, treasuring the time they spend together. But after two marriages, she prefers to avoid the complications and uncertainties of a new love.
Then, after a chance meeting with Zack Winter, a television producer visiting Manhattan from Los Angeles, everything changes. Inspired by the true story of her own indomitable grandmother, Kait creates the storyline for a TV series. And when she shares her work with Zack, he is impressed and decides to make this his next big-budget project.
Within weeks, Kait is plunged into a colorful world of actors and industry pros who will bring her vision to life. A cool, competent director. An eccentric young screenwriter. A world-famous actress coping with private tragedy. A reclusive grande dame from Hollywood’s Golden Age. A sizzling starlet whose ego outstrips her abilities. L.A.’s latest ‘bad boy’ actor, whose affairs are setting the city on fire. An unknown ingénue with outsized talent. And a rugged, legendary leading man. As secrets are shared, the cast becomes a second family for Kait. But in the midst of this charmed year, she is suddenly forced to confront the greatest challenge a mother could ever know.
The strength of women—across generations and among friends, colleagues, and family—takes center stage in this irresistible novel, as all-too-real people find the courage to persevere in life’s drama of heartbreak and joy.”
IF YOU WANT TO LEARN SOMETHING NEW…
Amazon
How To Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan
“When Michael Pollan set out to research how LSD and psilocybin (the active ingredient in magic mushrooms) are being used to provide relief to people suffering from difficult-to-treat conditions such as depression, addiction and anxiety, he did not intend to write what is undoubtedly his most personal book. But upon discovering how these remarkable substances are improving the lives not only of the mentally ill but also of healthy people coming to grips with the challenges of everyday life, he decided to explore the landscape of the mind in the first person as well as the third. Thus began a singular adventure into various altered states of consciousness, along with a dive deep into both the latest brain science and the thriving underground community of psychedelic therapists. Pollan sifts the historical record to separate the truth about these mysterious drugs from the myths that have surrounded them since the 1960s, when a handful of psychedelic evangelists inadvertently catalyzed a powerful backlash against what was then a promising field of research.”
Amazon
The Trials of Nina McCall by Scott W. Stern
“In 1918, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Nina McCall was told to report to the local health officer to be examined for sexually transmitted infections. Confused and humiliated, Nina did as she was told, and the health officer performed a hasty (and invasive) examination and quickly diagnosed her with gonorrhea. Though Nina insisted she could not possibly have an STI, she was coerced into committing herself to the Bay City Detention Hospital, a facility where she would spend almost three miserable months subjected to hard labor, exploitation, and painful injections of mercury.
Nina McCall was one of many women unfairly imprisoned by the United States government throughout the twentieth century. Tens, probably hundreds, of thousands of women and girls were locked up–usually without due process–simply because officials suspected these women were prostitutes, carrying STIs, or just ‘promiscuous.’
This discriminatory program, dubbed the “American Plan,” lasted from the 1910s into the 1950s, implicating a number of luminaries, including Eleanor Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller Jr., Earl Warren, and even Eliot Ness, while laying the foundation for the modern system of women’s prisons. In some places, vestiges of the Plan lingered into the 1960s and 1970s, and the laws that undergirded it remain on the books to this day.”
IF SCIENCE FICTION IS MORE YOUR STYLE…
Amazon
MEM by Bethany C. Morrow
“Set in the glittering art deco world of a century ago, MEM makes one slight alteration to history: a scientist in Montreal discovers a method allowing people to have their memories extracted from their minds, whole and complete. The Mems exist as mirror-images of their source — zombie-like creatures destined to experience that singular memory over and over, until they expire in the cavernous Vault where they are kept.
And then there is Dolores Extract #1, the first Mem capable of creating her own memories. An ageless beauty shrouded in mystery, she is allowed to live on her own, and create her own existence, until one day she is summoned back to the Vault. What happens next is a gorgeously rendered, heart-breaking novel in the vein of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go.”
Amazon
84K by Claire North
“The penalty for Dani Cumali’s murder: £84,000.
Theo works in the Criminal Audit Office. He assesses each crime that crosses his desk and makes sure the correct debt to society is paid in full.
These days, there’s no need to go to prison – provided that you can afford to pay the penalty for the crime you’ve committed. If you’re rich enough, you can get away with murder.
But Dani’s murder is different. When Theo finds her lifeless body, and a hired killer standing over her and calmly calling the police to confess, he can’t let her death become just an entry on a balance sheet.
Someone is responsible. And Theo is going to find them and make them pay.”
0 notes
Text
The Best Books To Read During The Last Week Of May
New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/the-best-books-to-read-during-the-last-week-of-may/
The Best Books To Read During The Last Week Of May
Unsplash / Les Anderson
IF YOU WANT SOMETHING TO READ ON THE BEACH…
Amazon
The High Tide Club by Mary Kay Andrews
“When ninety-nine-year-old heiress Josephine Bettendorf Warrick summons Brooke Trappnell to Talisa Island, her 20,000 acre remote barrier island home, Brooke is puzzled. Everybody in the South has heard about the eccentric millionaire mistress of Talisa, but Brooke has never met her. Josephine’s cryptic note says she wants to discuss an important legal matter with Brooke, who is an attorney, but Brooke knows that Mrs. Warrick has long been a client of a prestigious Atlanta law firm.
Over a few meetings, the ailing Josephine spins a tale of old friendships, secrets, betrayal and a long-unsolved murder. She tells Brooke she is hiring her for two reasons: to protect her island and legacy from those who would despoil her land, and secondly, to help her make amends with the heirs of the long dead women who were her closest friends, the girls of The High Tide Club—so named because of their youthful skinny dipping escapades—Millie, Ruth and Varina. When Josephine dies with her secrets intact, Brooke is charged with contacting Josephine’s friends’ descendants and bringing them together on Talisa for a reunion of women who’ve actually never met.”
Amazon
The Glitch by Elisabeth Cohen
“Shelley Stone, wife, mother, and CEO of the tech company Conch, is committed to living her most efficient life. She takes her ‘me time’ at 3:30 a.m. on the treadmill, power naps while waiting in line, schedules sex with her husband for when they are already changing clothes, and takes a men’s multivitamin because she refuses to participate in her own oppression.
But when she meets a young woman also named Shelley Stone who has the same exact scar on her shoulder, Shelley has to wonder: Is she finally buckling under all the pressure?”
IF YOU WANT SOMETHING THAT WILL TURN YOU ON…
Amazon
The Pisces by Melissa Broder
“Lucy has been writing her dissertation on Sappho for nine years when she and her boyfriend break up in a dramatic flameout. After she bottoms out in Phoenix, her sister in Los Angeles insists Lucy dog-sit for the summer. Annika’s home is a gorgeous glass cube on Venice Beach, but Lucy can find little relief from her anxiety — not in the Greek chorus of women in her love addiction therapy group, not in her frequent Tinder excursions, not even in Dominic the foxhound’s easy affection.
Everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer while sitting alone on the beach rocks one night. But when Lucy learns the truth about his identity, their relationship, and Lucy’s understanding of what love should look like, take a very unexpected turn. A masterful blend of vivid realism and giddy fantasy, pairing hilarious frankness with pulse-racing eroticism, THE PISCES is a story about falling in obsessive love with a merman: a figure of Sirenic fantasy whose very existence pushes Lucy to question everything she thought she knew about love, lust, and meaning in the one life we have.”
Amazon
Tell Me Lies by Carola Lovering
“Lucy Albright is far from her Long Island upbringing when she arrives on the campus of her small California college, and happy to be hundreds of miles from her mother, whom she’s never forgiven for an act of betrayal in her early teen years. Quickly grasping at her fresh start, Lucy embraces college life and all it has to offer—new friends, wild parties, stimulating classes. And then she meets Stephen DeMarco. Charming. Attractive. Complicated. Devastating.
Confident and cocksure, Stephen sees something in Lucy that no one else has, and she’s quickly seduced by this vision of herself, and the sense of possibility that his attention brings her. Meanwhile, Stephen is determined to forget an incident buried in his past that, if exposed, could ruin him, and his single-minded drive for success extends to winning, and keeping, Lucy’s heart.
Lucy knows there’s something about Stephen that isn’t to be trusted. Stephen knows Lucy can’t tear herself away. And their addicting entanglement will have consequences they never could have imagined.”
IF YOU WANT TO SIT ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEAT…
Amazon
Mr. Flood’s Last Resort by Jess Kidd
“Maud Drennan is a dedicated caregiver whose sunny disposition masks a deep sadness. A tragic childhood event left her haunted, in the company of a cast of prattling saints who pop in and out of her life like tourists. Other than visiting her agoraphobic neighbor, Maud keeps to herself, finding solace in her work and in her humble existence–until she meets Mr. Flood.
Cathal Flood is a menace by all accounts. The lone occupant of a Gothic mansion crawling with feral cats, he has been waging war against his son’s attempts to put him into an old-age home and sent his last caretaker running for the madhouse. But Maud is this impossible man’s last chance: if she can help him get the house in order, he just might be able to stay. So the unlikely pair begins to cooperate, bonding over their shared love of Irish folktales and mutual dislike of Mr. Flood’s overbearing son.
Still, shadows are growing in the cluttered corners of the mansion, hinting at buried family secrets, and reminding Maud that she doesn’t really know this man at all. When the forgotten case of a missing schoolgirl comes to light, she starts poking around, and a full-steam search for answers begins.”
Amazon
Princess by James Patterson and Rees Jones
“When the head of the world’s foremost investigation agency receives at invitation to meet Princess Caroline, third in line to the British throne, he boards his Gulfstream jet and flies straight to London.
The Princess needs Morgan’s skills, and his discretion. Sophie Edwards, a close friend of the Princess, has gone missing. She needs to be found before the media become aware of it.
Morgan knows there is more to this case than he is being told.”
IF YOU USUALLY PREFER MOVIES TO BOOKS…
Amazon
The Favorite Sister by Jessica Knoll
“When five hyper-successful women agree to appear on a reality series set in New York City called Goal Diggers, the producers never expect the season will end in murder…
Brett’s the fan favorite. Tattooed and only twenty-seven, the meteoric success of her spin studio—and her recent engagement to her girlfriend—has made her the object of jealousy and vitriol from her castmates.
Kelly, Brett’s older sister and business partner, is the most recent recruit, dismissed as a hanger-on by veteran cast. The golden child growing up, she defers to Brett now—a role which requires her to protect their shocking secret.
Stephanie, the first black cast member and the oldest, is a successful bestselling author of erotic novels. There have long been whispers about her hot, non-working actor-husband and his wandering eye, but this season the focus is on the rift that has opened between her and Brett, former best friends—and resentment soon breeds contempt.”
Amazon
The Cast by Danielle Steel
“Kait Whittier has built her magazine column into a hugely respected read followed by fans across the country. She loves her work and adores her grown children, treasuring the time they spend together. But after two marriages, she prefers to avoid the complications and uncertainties of a new love.
Then, after a chance meeting with Zack Winter, a television producer visiting Manhattan from Los Angeles, everything changes. Inspired by the true story of her own indomitable grandmother, Kait creates the storyline for a TV series. And when she shares her work with Zack, he is impressed and decides to make this his next big-budget project.
Within weeks, Kait is plunged into a colorful world of actors and industry pros who will bring her vision to life. A cool, competent director. An eccentric young screenwriter. A world-famous actress coping with private tragedy. A reclusive grande dame from Hollywood’s Golden Age. A sizzling starlet whose ego outstrips her abilities. L.A.’s latest ‘bad boy’ actor, whose affairs are setting the city on fire. An unknown ingénue with outsized talent. And a rugged, legendary leading man. As secrets are shared, the cast becomes a second family for Kait. But in the midst of this charmed year, she is suddenly forced to confront the greatest challenge a mother could ever know.
The strength of women—across generations and among friends, colleagues, and family—takes center stage in this irresistible novel, as all-too-real people find the courage to persevere in life’s drama of heartbreak and joy.”
IF YOU WANT TO LEARN SOMETHING NEW…
Amazon
How To Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan
“When Michael Pollan set out to research how LSD and psilocybin (the active ingredient in magic mushrooms) are being used to provide relief to people suffering from difficult-to-treat conditions such as depression, addiction and anxiety, he did not intend to write what is undoubtedly his most personal book. But upon discovering how these remarkable substances are improving the lives not only of the mentally ill but also of healthy people coming to grips with the challenges of everyday life, he decided to explore the landscape of the mind in the first person as well as the third. Thus began a singular adventure into various altered states of consciousness, along with a dive deep into both the latest brain science and the thriving underground community of psychedelic therapists. Pollan sifts the historical record to separate the truth about these mysterious drugs from the myths that have surrounded them since the 1960s, when a handful of psychedelic evangelists inadvertently catalyzed a powerful backlash against what was then a promising field of research.”
Amazon
The Trials of Nina McCall by Scott W. Stern
“In 1918, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Nina McCall was told to report to the local health officer to be examined for sexually transmitted infections. Confused and humiliated, Nina did as she was told, and the health officer performed a hasty (and invasive) examination and quickly diagnosed her with gonorrhea. Though Nina insisted she could not possibly have an STI, she was coerced into committing herself to the Bay City Detention Hospital, a facility where she would spend almost three miserable months subjected to hard labor, exploitation, and painful injections of mercury.
Nina McCall was one of many women unfairly imprisoned by the United States government throughout the twentieth century. Tens, probably hundreds, of thousands of women and girls were locked up–usually without due process–simply because officials suspected these women were prostitutes, carrying STIs, or just ‘promiscuous.’
This discriminatory program, dubbed the “American Plan,” lasted from the 1910s into the 1950s, implicating a number of luminaries, including Eleanor Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller Jr., Earl Warren, and even Eliot Ness, while laying the foundation for the modern system of women’s prisons. In some places, vestiges of the Plan lingered into the 1960s and 1970s, and the laws that undergirded it remain on the books to this day.”
IF SCIENCE FICTION IS MORE YOUR STYLE…
Amazon
MEM by Bethany C. Morrow
“Set in the glittering art deco world of a century ago, MEM makes one slight alteration to history: a scientist in Montreal discovers a method allowing people to have their memories extracted from their minds, whole and complete. The Mems exist as mirror-images of their source — zombie-like creatures destined to experience that singular memory over and over, until they expire in the cavernous Vault where they are kept.
And then there is Dolores Extract #1, the first Mem capable of creating her own memories. An ageless beauty shrouded in mystery, she is allowed to live on her own, and create her own existence, until one day she is summoned back to the Vault. What happens next is a gorgeously rendered, heart-breaking novel in the vein of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go.”
Amazon
84K by Claire North
“The penalty for Dani Cumali’s murder: £84,000.
Theo works in the Criminal Audit Office. He assesses each crime that crosses his desk and makes sure the correct debt to society is paid in full.
These days, there’s no need to go to prison – provided that you can afford to pay the penalty for the crime you’ve committed. If you’re rich enough, you can get away with murder.
But Dani’s murder is different. When Theo finds her lifeless body, and a hired killer standing over her and calmly calling the police to confess, he can’t let her death become just an entry on a balance sheet.
Someone is responsible. And Theo is going to find them and make them pay.”
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7 Times When You Ought to Simply Say Thank You, Yet Don't.
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Harvey is also displacing snakes, fire ants and gators
By Karin Brulliard, Washington Post, August 28, 2017
As Tropical Storm Harvey continues to drench Southeast Texas and flood Houston and surrounding communities, people aren’t the only ones seeking higher ground. The area’s wild animal inhabitants are, too.
The Houston metropolitan area is home to thousands of American alligators that reside in hundreds of miles of streams and bayous; more than 20 species of snakes; billions of invasive fire ants; and plenty of deer, raccoons and other critters--all of which are struggling to escape the rising waters. With no Noah’s Ark to ferry them away, they’re showing up in some unusual spots, Texas wildlife officials and professionals say. Those same people add that despite the fearsome reputation of some animals, there’s no reason to panic.
“In Houston, you’ve got pretty much two things: Where you build, which is higher, and where you don’t build, which is low. Wildlife is going to seek the higher areas, which happens to be the places where we build,” said Kelly Norrid, an urban wildlife biologist for Texas Parks and Wildlife. “Mammals that don’t want to be in the water … may end up being in your attic or garage.”
Alligators: Hundreds of thousands of alligators live in Texas, and they’re concentrated on the swampy, now inundated southeast coast. They don’t do well in the colder, fast-moving rainwater that is rushing through the bayous, so those that are able will migrate inland. But that doesn’t mean the area is swarming with menacing gators.
“We’re hearing reports of eight-foot alligators in the front yard,” Norrid said. “But that’s not really unusual in Southeast Texas.”
Chris Stephens said his alligator relocation company, Gator Squad, has gotten more calls from neighborhoods in Fort Bend County, southwest of Houston, where alligators aren’t so common. But road closures mean that he and his partner are only able to respond to life-threatening situations. So far, they’ve removed just three gators since the flooding began. All were between three and five feet long.
Meyerland resident Melissa Buron snapped a photo of a small alligator a few blocks from her house over the weekend. Buron, whose home is one of the few on her street that has not flooded, said it was not a typical sight.
An alligator in the yard is probably the last thing many Texans, coping with a natural disaster, need right now. But Stephens said he’s telling callers to stay calm, keep their distance and definitely don’t try for a selfie with the animal; those with a gator under their car might try nudging it with a long push broom, he said.
“They got flooded out of their pond, they got flooded out of their river,” he said. “They had to evacuate, too.”
David Steen, a reptile expert and assistant research professor at the Auburn University Museum of Natural History, made similar points in an email.
“The advice I would give people now is the same advice I usually give: A little common sense goes a long way. Be conscious of where you put your hands and feet and do not try to mess with animals,” he said. “Getting in a fight with you is really low on the list of a snake or alligator’s priorities right now. They’re trying to get through the storm, too.”
Snakes: Speaking of snakes: Norrid said the Houston area has 23 species and subspecies of snakes, all of which can swim if need be--though “they may not prefer it”--and many of which will scale buildings or trees to stay dry. Houston’s Fox TV affiliate posted a photo on Facebook of a snake slithering up a brick house. Steen identified it as a rat snake, a “highly arboreal” species that climbs frequently, so it might have just been doing its regular thing.
Given that only five of the area’s snake species are venomous, most snakes pose little harm to humans (other than, perhaps, by scaring the daylights out of snake-phobes).
“As long as people don’t cut their heads off, they will move about their way and go back to where they came from,” he said. Snake bites usually happen when people “catch, kill or harass” the reptiles, Steen said.
Even so, some officials in the coastal city of Corpus Christi decided to take their chances. Our colleague, Tim Craig, sent photos Sunday of City Council member Greg Smith holding a dead snake that Steen said appears to be a Western diamondback rattlesnake.
Fire ants: But if snakes aren’t likely to hurt Texas flood victims, what about fire ants? Their hideously painful attacks are common--and the insects are super flood survivors. The ants, known officially as red imported fire ants, are an invasive species with a sting that can cause burning, blisters, scarring, infections and even death to those who are hypersensitive to their venom. They’re destructive to wildlife and agriculture. And during floods, they’re the ultimate teammates.
Instead of drowning, the ants emerge from the soil and come together in the thousands to form floating rafts. These can be several feet wide, and in recent days images of their terrifying flotillas have starred on social media.
Norrid did not hide his contempt for the ants, whose mere mention, he said, makes every Texan “cringe.” He saw one of their islands on his street this weekend. Still, “it would be hard for me to advise someone go grab a can of Raid and spray at the water,” he said. Best is to stay far, far from the burning insect boats.
Other wildlife: The deer that munch their way through verdant Houston are also seeking dry land.
Norrid said he expects the waters to drown many deer, and their carcasses are likely to attract yet another nightmarish insect situation once the water recedes: hordes of flies.
“But hopefully the rest of nature will take its course and help clean the mess up: coyotes and vultures, et cetera,” he said.
The storm and floodwaters barely missed some particularly vulnerable wildlife populations, said Mike Tewes, regents professor and research scientist in the Department of Animal, Rangeland and Wildlife Sciences at Texas A&M University at Kingsville.
“If Harvey had occurred 100 miles south, it could have had a devastating effect on the small ocelot population. If it had occurred 20 miles north and two months later, it could have been disastrous for whooping cranes,” he said.
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