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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

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Shattered Lives Ch 36 Pt 1

The days between moving in with Gustaf and New Year’s Eve were filled with never ending chores, because despite Gustaf wanting her to relax and take it easy, Sildie wanted her apartment done. Boxing up the remaining things she put them in storage, still not at ease with getting rid of anything just yet. The hard reality of what if they split still plagued her mind, once bitten twice shy. She had to keep it real, had to think of the long term back up plan in case it all went to hell in a hand basket, especially with four children in the mix. Even more of a chore was deciding on whether to keep the furniture or sell it, what to do with the apartment, did she leave it all as it was or rent it out, sell it, renovate it? Then there was the unpacking of all her stuff in Gustaf’s apartment, their apartment, cleaning, trash pick up, the list never ended. She’d come to the realization moving just sucked.

“Ok stop.” He said one night as they sat for tea and pulled her into his lap. “You haven’t stopped all day. Let it be.” He grabbed and kissed her fingers as she went to tidy up the stack of papers on the table and secured her body to his by wrapping those outrageously long limbs around her and kissing her neck.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get it all done so we can enjoy the New Year’s Eve party.” She huffed.

“You keep running around like this you won’t make it to the party because you’ll be exhausted and asleep by seven.” He kissed her neck and bit down gently. “Let it be.” He growled as she struggled against him to free her arms so she could just tidy up those papers and be done. “We can deal with the rest after January second.” He would stipulate a time as well if required.

“Fine.” She sighed and gave up, relaxing into him. “I just wanted it clean.” She mumbled taking a sip of her tea when he finally let her go, pushing those papers further away from her, she wasn’t going to budge him on it. He was right of course, she’d been hell bent on getting everything squared away before the end of the year. “I just want to start fresh next year.”

“I get it love, I do, but I also want to see you relax.” He kissed that one spot below her ear that made her weak for him.

“That’s not playing fair.” She sighed, that clever mouth bringing her undone.

“Didn’t say anything about playing fair.” He chuckled. “Ready for the party?”

“I guess, just nervous. It’s your family and we’re leaving the kids there overnight.” She was terrified, first night away with grandpa and she had all sorts of horror stories running through her head.

“The kids will just be upstairs with dad, they’re close and with someone I trust emplicitly.” Stellan and Megan had jumped at the chance to have the kids stay over. “I think Valter is staying as well so Brendan will have someone older to hang with and Oona is staying over to hang out with Lily.” He sipped his tea and squeezed her to him.

“I know I just worry.” She mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

“It’s your job, but don’t, they’ll be fine. It’s not like they have far to come if they need us.” It was handy that his dad lived in the same building a few floors up.

“What time’s the party?”

“Starts at six and goes all night, we can disappear whenever.” He kissed her neck and sucked on her pulse. “You and I are going to have an adult New Years.” He growled, her sinful giggle made his cock twitch, he had a plan, an erotic one.

“Are we now?” She leaned back into him and snaked a hand up the back of his neck and onto his scalp, toying with the soft dusting of hair, he’d let it grow out over the holidays.

“Mmm hmmm. We’re taking this year out with a bang.” He smirked against her skin.

“Oh god Gustaf that was terrible.” She scoffed and laughed at his pun.

“Yeah, but accurate.” He kissed her temple and sipped his tea. “I also booked the cabin for January 4 through 15. A little longer than planned but the few extra days were free with the deal.”

“That sounds so good. The kids will love it. Anything we need to take care of first?” She turned so she was sitting sideways on his lap. The kids weren’t the only one looking forward to some time away. She wanted to decompress with just the six of them, giving the kids time to bond with Gustaf. It was important, for all of them.

“Just clothes and maybe some snacks, board games. There’s lots for them to do outside, but it might be good to have some indoor activities in case we get a storm. We’ll need something for them to do that’s not TV and video games.”

“It’ll be a good break. Give you boys some bonding time.” She kissed him sweetly.

“Yeah.” He smiled and hung his head thinking.

“It bothers you doesn’t it? The dad thing.” Her fingers trailed his scruff and he looked at her, those eyes of perfect blue, she drowned in them every time.

“Not bother, more, different, I just need to get used to the idea.” Her kiss was tender. “It sounds so weird to my ears.” He chuckled. “If that makes any sense at all.”

“I’ll talk to them.” She said gently.

“No.” He shook his head and kissed her hard. “No. Leave it alone. They need to do what feels right for them too love. It’s just not something I ever expected from the boys. Lily I can understand, she never knew Quinn, but the boys, it was a shock, still is.” He tangled his fingers into her hair and kissed her, long and slow. “We need time, that’s all.”

“Just know I’ll talk to them if it’s too much.” She wouldn’t see him wrecked over it, hurt over it.

“No.” He smiled at her. “That’s something we need to figure out for ourselves. The four of us need to be comfortable with it and work through the awkwardness of it.” He kissed her softly. “You can’t bail me out of this one love, and I don’t want you too, not if we’re going to be a family. It’s important to them and to me that we work through it no matter how much it terrifies the hell out of me.”

She studied that handsome face, her finger playing with his scruff. “You’re a good man.” He dropped his head and her hand cupped his cheek. “You are. Look at me.” She kissed him sweetly. “Not many would do what you’ve done for them. It makes you so special.”

“I love you, I love the kids. It’s pretty simple really.”

“Sweet man I know you do, and I hope you also know that we love you too, so much.” He kissed her, the slow devastating kiss of the only man that could render her incoherent.

“My goddess, you and the kids are my world.” He rested his head against hers. “It’s been a good year. Sure there’s been some shitty bits in there, but I met you. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me love.”

“A crazy woman who blubbers in your lap after sex, with four kids in tow.” She chuckled. “Yeah, the best.” Her tone thick with sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t change it for anything.” He grinned. “And I blubber, you fall apart.” He flicked her nose playfully.

“Me either.” Her chuckle light. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

“We do.”

“So confident.” She giggled.

“Just calling it how I see it. You make one kick ass mum you realize that right?” He said softly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She scoffed.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Four happy kids after what they’ve been through, that’s pretty fucking phenomenal.” Yes he knew he’d been a part of it, but she needed to hear it. Their lives had turned to shit in a blink, she had brought them to a place where they were thriving. He tried to keep the nudge out of his tone, the one that told her he wanted kids with her. Not your choice mother fucker, he cautioned silently, leave it there. He would not manipulate her no matter how much he wanted it. “Come on.” He said tapping her thigh and squeezing. “Bed, sleep. We’ve done enough for the day and I have a need to hold you close.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit either.” She said softly as she stood and took the teapot to the sink.

“You did all the hard yards love. Take a moment here and there to look at them, really look at them, they’re happy. Sure they’re still grieving and will continue to, but they’re happy.” He tucked a wave of copper over her ear. “You did that, you should be proud of it. Especially as there are so many other ways it could have turned out. Take the win love, you deserve it.” He kissed her sweetly.

“But you’ve helped where I couldn’t, you give them the missing pieces.” She kissed him tenderly. “Remember that ok?”

“I’ll remember. Bed. Come on.” He took her hand in his and tugged it to get her moving.

They snuggled in bed, Sildie almost passing out as her head hit the pillow. Sleep always took her hard, or maybe that was because she didn’t stop during the day, he thought with a wry smile. He let his mind wander as his fingers stroked her head, lips kissing her brow, breathing in her scent soothed him.

The last few days had settled him once he realized Lily was safe and Ana wasn’t going to get through the front door. His nightmare had scared him to the deepest parts of his soul, the thought of losing Lily, any of the kids had him rethinking his life. It wasn’t just him now, he had a family, responsibilities, that if he fucked up, they would feel the repercussions. He would be better, work at being a better man for them.

Next year would be busy, twelve week shoot starting in February, a premier, and hopefully more work. Maybe he’d take something closer to home, he thought, it caused him physical pain to think about being away from them for so long. They’d figure it out, they’d make it work, it was just going to tear at him.

He was hoping Sildie took the partner offer, she’d worked hard for it and wasn’t going to let anything get in her way if she decided to take it. A nanny, a housekeeper, something to take the load off when he wasn’t here. His mind chewed it over, flitting from one idea to the next until he drifted. His last conscious thought before joining Sildie in the sleep world was of a brood of kids of their own, it was often on his mind. The heart wants what the heart wants.

“Ok Lily, I’m coming. Good grief.” Sildie groaned as Lily screamed her head off through the monitor.

“Uk?” Gustaf mumbled as she pulled away from him.

“Yeah I’ll get her I’m awake now anyway.” She grumbled.

He watched her pull her robe on, the silk hiding all those delicious curves, and grinned into the pillow. The things he was going to do to her tonight, he mused as he listened to Sildie soothe Lily through the monitor.

“Lily bear, my goodness.” She cooed picking up the screaming child.

“Mum mum mum.” She sobbed as she snuggled in and hiccuped, the tiny girl was well beyond it. “Let’s get you cleaned up huh? Then some snuggles?”

“Mum mum mum.” She was a hot mess, tears and snot, that little flushed face.

“Yeah yeah, I’m here.” She sighed as she cleaned her up and dressed her in some warmer pajamas. “Were you cold little lady? Hmmm? Is that what it was? Cold and needed a snuggle?” She sat in the rocker and tucked the blanket in around her as she curled her in.

He hugged his pillow and smiled at the softness in her voice. There was no doubt in his mind she’d be a good mother, if she could only hear herself with Lily, with the boys. Getting her to see it for herself without pushing was another story.

“And you’re not going to drop any hints either asshole. Her body, her decision.” He mumbled to himself. “God I want kids with you.” He whispered into the dark as Sildie started to hum to Lily.

Pulling the covers back he climbed out of bed and found some clean sweats. It was ridiculous to be up at 4 am when they had nowhere to be until 6 that night. Padding out to the kitchen he put the kettle onto boil and dumped the tea leaves in the teapot. After the tea had steeped he poured Sildie a cup and took it in with him to Lily’s room. He smiled at the sight, his heart melting and constricting all at the same time. His two best girls fast asleep in the rocking chair. Placing the tea down he took a throw from the bed and covered Sildie up, propping her head up with a pillow so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck. He took her tea back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Drinking his tea alone he had something to eat before heading into his workout room to burn off some energy, hopefully he’d be able to nap later in the day. Slipping on the gloves he started out light, letting his body warm up before going a full hour until his muscles screamed at him.

There was no anxiety, no anger, just the ebb and flow of thoughts and ideas. Things he needed to do next year in his career, with the kids, Sildie, his life had changed, dramatically, from single to father of four. He stopped suddenly and tapped the bag lightly with a fist thinking as it swayed.

“I guess this is how you feel my lovely lady.” He murmured to the bag as he thought on that epiphany some more. “Drowning doesn’t seem to cover it.” He muttered. “Single to father of four.” Maybe that was why the whole dad thing was brutally overwhelming him, he thought, maybe it had been too much, too soon. “Single to father of four.” He repeated and continued with his workout.

His thoughts drifted to their future, what he wanted, what he wanted to give them, provide for them. Sure, he wanted kids of their own, and that decision was out of his hands, at least for the moment. The punch landed softly when marriage fluttered into his mind, he still wasn’t sure if she’d want to be married, or if he was even ready to take that plunge again.

His first marriage wasn’t bad, it wasn’t a picnic either with his addiction hanging over them both like a consistent third partner in the relationship. That was half the problem, their relationship was already on shaky ground before it had even had the chance to grow, to flourish. “I’m a different person now.” He muttered, and he was, he was clean and sober for a start. He’d disassociated himself with toxic people, mainly Ana, but there were more. Greedy, lecherous people only interested in him for what he was, his fame, or money, or his family connections. That’s where Sildie was different, she saw him for who he was, fucked up bits and all. Yes, he was different, he’d changed, and had the most incredible woman in his life. “Next year.” He said softly. “Sometime next year I’ll be asking you.” He grinned. He just had to figure out if it was something she wanted. “That’ll give me something to plan while I’m on set.” He chuckled.

Ripping the gloves off he sat for meditation and let his body relax, inviting the calm in. His breathing leveled out from the exertion and the peace flooded into him. This was a peace he’d fought hard for and a peace he was only able to obtain because of Sildie. She hadn’t given it to him directly, she’d given him understanding, support, and compassion. She’d given him a reason to be a better person, a reason to fight his demons after Ana, because if he was being honest, that fucking bitch had almost put him in the bottom of a bottle again. He’d been teetering on the edge when he’d save a few wayward oranges on Sildie’s threshold.

This year had taught him a lot and given him much more. He’d had his bad days, but the good ones had outweighed those dramatically. Most of all he’d stayed sober, he’d stayed clean, and his state of mind was clearer than it had ever been. Calm and peace settled in his mind, and he’d not been at peace with himself like this for a long time, if ever.

Getting to his feet he wiped down the bag and stowed his gloves before heading for a shower. By the time he surfaced in clean sweats and a t shirt, the boys were at the kitchen island for breakfast.

“Where mum?” Brendan asked as he started making pancakes, Gustaf’s lips twitching a smile at his endearment for Sildie.

“She’s curled up with Lily in the rocker. Lily woke up screaming at four this morning.” He yawned, putting the kettle on to heat up for a fresh pot of tea.

“Ouch.” The teen winced.

“Yeah. It was a little rough.” Gustaf chuckled. “Let them sleep, we’ll stick to quiet time this morning ok?” He looked at the twins and they nodded.

“Can we play Harry?” Finn asked as he snatched a hot pancake from the plate.

“Volume down low and we might go for a walk later, get out for a bit if the weather is good, so no grumbles when we do ok?” Both boys nodded, they knew the rules, grumbles meant shortened game time. “What about you B? What are you up to today?”

“Chokladbiskvier, I thought we could take them to grandpa’s tonight.” He said flipping a pancake.

“Only if you want to, there’s no need to. My dad has the party catered.” Gustaf saw the kids eyes light up. “Christmas is for family, New Years is a little more of a party.”

“I want to.” The teen grinned.

“Then have at it. And. Yum.” He elbowed the kid playfully before pouring the water over the tea leaves.

“If I have time I might even make Kladdkaka.” Brendan said on the sly.

“Shit kid you’re killing me.” He groaned.

Once the boys had eaten and off to do their designated quiet time activity, Gustaf settled into the one seat with his book, content to have some down time of his own while his girls slept.

“Mum mum mum.” Lily said softly, tapping Sildie’s face with her tiny hand.

“I’m up.” Sildie said, inhaling sharply. “Hey there little lady.” Lily crashed into her and hugged her tight. Sildie smiled as she kissed the toddlers head. “Shall we get cleaned up and go have some breakfast?” She laughed as Lily bounced, happy and content on her lap with her usual chatter for her dad dad. Her ass was asleep and she smiled at the throw and pillow tucked in around her. Gustaf had obviously come to check on her at some point. With a clean Lily she shuffled out to the kitchen and a wonderful smell of warm cookies. Brendan had been cooking up a storm again and she was so thrilled for the boy, something that brought him so much happiness in a year where things had gone to shit in more ways than one. They’d all come a long way since their parents passed. Maybe Gustaf was right, maybe I am good at this mum thing, she thought and then snorted before kissing Lily’s head. It was only better because of Gustaf, she was drowning before he came along and swept her off her feet, cleaning pasta sauce from her floor.

He loved that look on her face, her body, she’d slept and slept hard, total relaxation. Saving his page he got up and wrapped his arms around her waist as she sat Lily in her high chair with a pancake.

“Morning lovely lady.”

“Morning.” She yawned. “Did you get some more sleep after this one made a ruckus?”

“No, but I’ll take a nap later.” He kissed her temple and let his hand wander under her robe out of the line of sight of the boys. He growled and palmed a breast gently. “Fuck I love the feel of you.” He nipped her ear as her soft moan escaped, that spot below her ear betraying her as he kissed it. “You might want to nap today, you’re gonna need every ounce of energy for what I have planned for you tonight kitten.” He murmured, turning her so she faced him. He gently gripped her chin and kissed her slowly, patiently devouring every inch of her mouth. She was breathless and struck mute by the time he let her up for air.

“I love it when you kiss me like that.” Her chest heaved, pussy throbbed, god she wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her.

“I know.” He kissed her again tenderly. “Sit down I’ll get you some un mangled pancakes.” He chuckled at seeing Lily’s shredded breakfast on her high chair table, the child quite content making an absolute mess of herself and offering crumbs to Sildie.

The man certainly knew how to kiss a woman, she thought as she sat near Lily and watched Gustaf walk to the kitchen. How was it he made her tummy flip just by looking at those thighs, that ass, the roped muscle of his arms, those hands? Because you know what’s under all those clothes, the little devil on her shoulder whispered, and you like what he does to you, all of it. “Yes I do.” She muttered and smiled as Lily tried to feed her some squished pancake.

After Sildie had eaten Gustaf forced her into the one seat with her book. With his hands braced on the arms of the chair he leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t want to see you get out of that chair unless it’s for the bathroom.” He murmured and kissed her again. “Rest love, please. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends these past few days and I don’t want you burning out or getting sick.”

“Only if you rest too.” She trailed a finger down his jaw, over his scruff, along the column of his throat, before fanning out her fingers over his chest. That chest, she thought, all hers and damn it if she didn’t love curling into it, the safety and security she felt when she did.

“I’m going to entertain Lily, which is rest enough.” He kissed her again and left her to read.

She watched him stretch out on the floor, his body caging Lily against the corner of the room, she’d have to climb over him to get out. Looking around the apartment she smiled, the twins quietly figuring out the next puzzle on Harry Potter, Brendan in the kitchen baking, experimenting with whatever flavors he desired, happy. On the last day of the year, there was this surreal calm that had enveloped the apartment and the people in it, and she couldn’t deny that it felt really good. Gustaf was right, the kids were happy, she’d brought them to a place where they could be settled and start their life again. It wasn’t just her though, she thought, as she watched Gustaf. They were happy because of this gorgeous man laying on their floor playing with a child that wasn’t his by blood, but his in every way that mattered. He’d given them a home, a family unit.

I want more days like this, she thought, that was her goal for the coming year, more time with the kids, more time with Gustaf, more peace in their lives. What about making partner, the little voice in her head said softly, what about your dreams, your hopes? If Dana could manage her own firm and three kids with another on the way, I sure as shit can manage the four she handed me, she thought with an indignant huff. She’d thought about what Gustaf had said, get a housekeeper, a nanny, she didn’t have to do it on her own anymore so why make it harder on herself? A housekeeper would be helpful, laundry, pick the kids up, get dinner on, especially if she was working late, and especially when Gustaf was away. The only issue was cost, because she wasn’t going to expect Gustaf to pay for it all. Quinn and Dana had used one but they had dual income, maybe she could get Alice to come work full time? Do the half and half payments with Gustaf? “Now there’s a thought.” She mumbled and kept reading.

She was so engrossed in her book she didn’t notice Gustaf had fallen asleep until Lily started to get upset that dad dad wasn’t playing with her anymore. Sildie climbed out of the chair and lifted the child out from her makeshift compound. She took her to get changed and had Brendan watch her for a moment. Kneeling beside Gustaf she gently lifted his head and placed a pillow under it, grabbing the throw from the couch she covered him enough to keep his torso warm, he was out cold and she couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

“Sleep love.” She murmured, before collecting Lily from Brendan and sitting with the child to read to her.

He woke up with a tiny child using him as a jungle gym. The place was quiet apart from Lily chattering dad dad, how long had he been out? Those lips he craved pressed against his temple and he snaked an arm around Lily so she didn’t fall as she flopped over his hip with a giggle.

“Time to wake up sleepy head.” Sildie murmured, kissing his temple.

“Wow I bombed.” He yawned rolling to his back.

“You did. It’s nearly four.” Her chuckle was humorous.

“What! Shit!” He huffed. “Didn’t mean to sleep that much.” Scrubbing a hand over his face he sat up and pulled Lily into his arms, the child hugging her dad dad. “Did you get a nap?”

“Sort of, this one crashed out for about two hours. We snuggled.” She helped him to his feet and went to make tea as he wandered into the kitchen, Lily curled in, that wonderful cookie smell still lingering on the air.

“Damn those look good.” He said to Brendan at the sight of the chocolate coated Chokladbiskvier.

“These are for us, I packed up the rest for the party already.” Brendan said quietly.

“I can have one?” Gustaf grinned at him like the big kid he was at heart.

“Yeah.” B chuckled shyly, the teen was still getting used to having free reign of the kitchen.

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled as Brendan pushed the plate over to him. Instead of taking one or two, Gustaf grabbed the entire plate and took it to the table.

“I meant one cookie.” Brendan laughed.

“Ahhh but you didn’t stipulate. I’m taking one. One plate, that just happens to have all the cookies on it.” He bundled the kid into him for a hug. “They look and smell divine. I won’t eat them all I promise.” He chuckled.

“You have to watch this one.” Sildie said to Brendan as she brought the teapot to the table.

“Apparently.” The kid laughed and hugged Gustaf tightly.

“Go take a shower and get cleaned up, make sure you’re packed for tonight.” Sildie said gently. “Finn, Liam, you too. Finish up your game, go pack and get cleaned up.”

“Mum mums cracking the whip.” Gustaf mumbled to Lily, kissing the girls head as he snagged a cookie.

“I heard that.” She scoffed and stared at him, the cheeky twinkle in his eyes made her smirk as she poured the tea.

“Keykey.” Lily chattered to Gustaf, her little hand squeezing in and out of a fist at the cookies.

“You want one?” Gustaf handed her half a cookie and she demolished it. “Chocolate fiend.”

“You good with her while I go shower?” Sildie said sipping her tea.

“Sure.”

“No more cookies.” She chuckled as that little hand reached out for another.

“I don’t blame her they’re really good.” He kissed Lily’s head and pushed the cookies away from her. He needed to stop eating them too or he’d end up the size of a house.

Sildie showered and dressed, hiding a new set of black lace under her dress. It was a simple figure hugging black wrap dress with a plunging neckline and knee high skirt, enough to have her man drooling before she set foot out the door. She topped it off with a string of moonstone beads.

“I’m going to take Lily’s por...” His sentence stopped there as he laid eyes on her, all wrapped up in black velvet.

“Going to take Lily’s what? Where?” She smirked biting her bottom lip wickedly.

He stalked across the floor, those long powerful legs eating up the hardwood flooring. Gripping her chin gently he looked at her, those ice blue eyes finding his from under her lashes. “That’s a very dangerous game to play kitten.” He growled, that low rumble making her pussy ache for him. His kiss was slow and sensual, yet demanding, his thumb gently prying her lip free from between her teeth. “One day you’ll tease me once too often.” He warned. Oh how he wanted it to be tonight, he thought, silently begging her to do it again.

She felt the power ripple off him, his presence unmistakable raw domination and she loved playing this game with him. Would he spank her tonight if she pushed him, she wondered? Her body betrayed her as a shiver skittered over her.

His low chuckle against her lips told her it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Finish getting ready kitten, I need to take Lily’s portable crib upstairs.” He murmured, lips ghosting hers seductively before he devoured her mouth, leaving her breathless. “I can’t wait to taste you.” He purred as he pulled away from her.

He left her dazed as he walked out of the room chuckling. Collecting Lily’s crib and the boys overnight bags he headed to his fathers. This would be a New Years she wouldn’t forget in a hurry, he’d make damn sure of it. A night to leave all the shitty bits of the past twelve months behind them and start fresh tomorrow.

By the time Gustaf came back for a shower the boys were dressed, and Lily had her sunflower dress on. It was a favorite of his, something he’d found on sale before Christmas and bought it on a whim. Simple yellow gingham with embroidered sunflowers along the hem, perfect for his little ray of sunshine.

She couldn’t help it. Biting down on her bottom lip she groaned softly as Gustaf came out of the bedroom a while later in black thigh hugging denim and a crisp white shirt. His eyes met her across the tops of the boys heads and she saw the smirk twitch at his lips, he knew what that shirt did to her. Moving over to her he pocketed his phone and keys before brushing her blood red stained lips with his thumb, prying it from her teeth again. “I’m not beyond putting you over my knee tonight kitten.” He growled before kissing her, slow and erotic as her system trembled. “Mmmm, you like the sound of that don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew damn well what the thought of it did to her.

“We need to go.” She choked, breathless and wanting.

“Yes we do.” He kissed her sweetly. “Were not done.” He growled as her finger trailed the patch of chest peeking out of his dress shirt. “Nowhere near done.”

“You’re not playing fair.” She murmured.

“All bets are off tonight kitten.” He nipped her ear playfully. “Nothing I do to you tonight will be fair, but you’ll be begging me to do it over and over again.” He added before stepping away and picking Lily up. “Well don’t you look like the little ray of sunshine you are.” He said kissing the girl until she giggled while Sildie attempted to get her hormones under control. Damn he knew how to get her going, and that shirt, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her hands off him.

They locked up the apartment and climbed in the elevator, Liam pushing the button to Stellan’s floor. “I like this dress.” Gustaf whispered, his hand cupping her ass giving it a squeeze.

“Then you’ll love what’s under it.” She purred, those eyes so seductive as he chuckled before kissing her.

“Fuck I love you.” He grinned, kissing her hard as the doors opened, that wicked smile of hers making his cock throb.

The front door was wide open, Megan greeting them and getting the kids settled, Lily was determined to stay with Gustaf for the moment and snuggled into his neck. Sweet girl I know how you feel, Sildie thought, that’s where I want to be snuggled right now too. Truth be told she wanted to get her hands on him and under that shirt, and he smelled so damn good, pure freshly showered male. With a squeeze of Gustaf’s hand she ventured into the kitchen with Brendan and the cookies, Eija wrapping the kid in an excited hug. Here we go, she thought, jump in the deep end, sink or swim with his family, because she couldn’t stay glued to Gustaf every time she was around them.

“You and I need to talk Kladdkaka.” She said lifting the lid of the container holding the cookies, snagging one and biting down. “God yes, and these.”

“About what?” Brendan asked looking slightly puzzled.

“If it’s ok with your mum I want to hire you to bake for my Sunday brunches.” She said digging out another cookie.

“For real?” Brendan’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“For reals kid. My brother told me you were good so I took a full Kladdkaka home with me from Christmas Day and fed it to my staff just to be sure. They asked when your first shift was.” Eija chuckled.

“But what about school and hockey?” He looked at Sildie for some help, way out of his depth, but not wanting to blow this chance.

“I think we can work something out.” Eija said gently. “We can do just the Sunday brunches for the moment, get your feet wet, see how you like it, how you go when school starts up. I can send you the order Monday, you send me the list of ingredients I’ll have them delivered. Don’t change anything from what you use now, that’s what makes it yours and special. Same brands, same everything, don’t change a thing. I was thinking you could cook Saturday and then let me know when they’re done and I’ll pick them up.”

“Every Saturday?” Brendan asked and felt his heart sink.

“No, we can do one weekend a month to start. I don’t want it to be too much. And the bonus is I’ll pay you.”

“Like a job?”

“Like a job dude.” She chuckled.

“Sick.” Brendan looked at Sildie. “Can I? Please?” Sildie could see him holding his breath, the excitement at the offer, his body vibrating.

“A few conditions. School comes first, your grades drop, you’re done. Just like hockey.” She said bluntly.

“No argument from me on that one.” Eija said honestly. “Your grades drop kid, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“Ok, I figured that was a given.” Brendan chuckled.

“Eija’s the boss. You don’t get to tell her what you’re baking, she tells you.” Brendan nodded. “Half your pay goes into the bank, no exceptions. The other half you can save and spend on whatever you like, within reason.” She smiled at him. “Other than that if you want to give it a try, then do it. If you want to think about it, then take some time to think on it. It’s a huge deal, be sure it’s what you want before committing to it. That makes it fair for Eija as well.” She watched him chew on it. The kid wasn’t impulsive to start with, but she wanted to be sure he was thinking about things before making a decision.

“Can I think about it Aunty Eija?” He asked quietly.

“Of course.” She elbowed him playfully. “And it’s just Eija, the Aunty thing makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

“Oh, sorry.” He cringed, feeling he fucked up his chances right off the mark.

“It’s fine kid.” She hugged him tightly. “You weren’t to know.”

“I should have asked first.” He mumbled and Sildie ran her fingers through his hair to soothe.

“It’s ok love she’s not angry.” Sildie said softly.

“Live and learn slick. I don’t hate it, it just makes me feel old, like my brother.” She chuckled. “Alex is a dinosaur.” She said loudly, knowing her brother on the other side of the room heard it as his head snapped to her grinning, Brendan couldn’t stop the snort. “That’s just between you and me by the way.” She chuckled and smiled as the kid lightened up.

Valter came past and hijacked their conversation, stealing the teen away so he could help kick Finns ass.

“He’s a good kid.” Eija said when it was just the two of them, handing Sildie some champagne.

“Not for me, I don’t drink.” At least not anymore and especially when there was a gorgeous man in a white dress shirt just across the room making eyes with her. She wanted to be stone cold sober when he fucked her tonight, she wanted to remember it all. “He is. Brendan’s been through a lot, took a lot on when Quinn passed. They’ve never had aunts and uncles, grandparents. It’s all new for them. Your brother gave him back his childhood, and a family.” She said quietly and cracked the seal on a bottle of water, emotions bubbling up.

“Goose is a special guy.” Eija’s honesty struck a chord in Sildie’s heart.

“He sure is.” Sildie said wistfully as she watched Gustaf, that lean body moving so gracefully. His gaze eventually caught hers from across the room, probably sensing she was watching him. Biting down gently on her bottom lip she smirked as the fire lit in his eyes, could feel the growl ripple from him silently, her finger twirling the string of beads around her neck.

He had to check the audible growl, the overwhelming urge to storm over there, strip her down to the black lace he knew was under that plush velvet dress, and spank her until she screamed, begged him to take her.

“I’m glad he met you.” Eija said softly.

“He makes me ridiculously happy, makes the kids happy.” Sildie smiled.

“He deserves someone like you, Sildie. Someone that loves him for who he is, not what his occupation is, or who he can connect them with.” Eija’s voice caught with emotion. She knew her brother had struggled, with addiction, with Ana, with anxiety and anger. He’d finally met someone that loved him for everything he was and more.

“He’s a very sweet soul.”

“I heard about your work party.” Eija said carefully. “Gustaf talked to me, in case anything gets dragged up in the media.” She added seeing the anger flare in Sildie’s eyes, nervous fingers tapping the island countertop.

“Fair enough.” She banked the fury, this whole Ana thing was bigger than her and Gustaf, it touched this entire family, she thought as she looked at Alex. She had to remember that.

“For what it’s worth I’m sorry.” Eija said quietly.

“Eija you have absolutely nothing to apologize to me for. Or like Gustaf likes to tell me, you don’t get to apologize for her. Ever.”

“Well if you need a hand burying the body let me know, I’ll grab the shovel.”

Sildie snorted. “Gustaf was right, we are so alike.”

“Nobody fucks with my brothers, especially Goose. He’s been through too much.” Eija was scrappy, and that’s what Sildie liked about her. She spoke her mind, told it to you straight, no bullshit, and no fucks given if it hurt your feelings. And she was fiercely protecting of her brothers, especially Gustaf. “Is your friend going to be ok?” She asked. Sensitive and emotional under it all, but fierce. “The lawyer?”

“I don’t know, the last I heard from Lucas she was out on bail, I don’t know when or if a court date has been set yet with all the holidays. I’m hoping it’s just a quick hearing and he can move on.”

“Will you keep me in the loop?” She asked.

“Sure, as much as I can. Lucas can’t tell me much as it’s an ongoing investigation, but if I hear anything I can text you.” She studied Eija. “You want to see her go down in court don’t you?”

“You bet your fine ass I do.” Her tone full of fire. “I want to see her fucking face when karma pays that bitch a visit.”

“No outbursts, no contact, no disruptions. If you do it could hurt Lucas and potentially drag Gustaf and yourself into the middle of it.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely fucking right.” She sighed. “Damn it.”

��That’s what she’ll be trying to do. She wants a reaction, don’t give her one. Promise me Eija, or you’ll get no updates from me.” Eija could see she wasn’t fucking around. “It can get much worse from here, for you, Gustaf, me, my kids, I’m trying to stop that from happening.” Sildie needed to reign Eija in, if not things could get complicated.

“I promise. I want to know what’s going on but yeah, I get what you’re saying.” She looked at Sildie and saw the fear her brother had mentioned. “She won’t get near your kids Sildie. Goose won’t allow it.”

“I know, I’m more worried about what it’ll do to him.” She said softly, the terrified look in his eyes that morning he’d had the nightmare haunted her. “I can’t watch her shit storm take that peace he’s fought so hard for from him too.” Sildie looked at her and had to say it, just to be absolutely clear. “Don’t make me lawyer you. Because I’ll do it to protect those I love Eija, including you, especially your brother. He’s gone through too much to carve that bitch out of his soul, I don’t want this thrown in his face more than it has to be.” Memories of Gustaf burning the notebook flittered into her mind, the baby bootie.

“I don’t want this to hurt my brother either. You have my word, I’ll behave. I just want to see her go down.” Eija promised.

“I’ll see what I can do when or if it goes to trial. At the moment it’s just between Ana and Lucas. With a bit of luck we’ll be left out of it.” Wishful thinking, Sildie thought, but she had to hold onto something.

“Sounds good to me. Goose was right, you’re scary as fuck when the lawyer comes out.” Eija grinned.

“Oh, I can be scarier.” Sildie stated bluntly. “Gustaf knows just how scary.” She added thinking back to the night in his workout room where he’d spiraled and she’d let him have it.

“No doubt.” The muttered reply making Sildie smirk.

He watched her as she spoke to his sister, happy that they seemed to get along, admired Sildie for having the balls to clear the air with Eija on Christmas Day, that hadn’t been easy. His woman in black velvet, curves on full display, the way her fingers toyed with that damn necklace. She caught him staring, the shy smile with a hint of the erotic goddess he knew was under it all.

“You’re so fucking gone over her.” Bill snorted, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

“Yeah.” His goofy grin said it all, totally smitten. “And this one.” He added, as he picked Lily up when she wandered over to grab him by the leg. “My Lily bear.”

“She’s the cutest thing.” Alex said, coming over to stand with them. Lily eyed him and snuggled into her dad dad, she still wasn’t too sure of the oldest brother. She would be with time, Alex was just never home long enough for her to get used to him.

Sildie watched as Gustaf put Lily down, Oona waddling over and grabbing his leg, the two girls dancing and bopping at his feet. Her heart melted as he took a hold of Sam’s three month old, his hands dwarfing the baby, but it was his face that sucker punched her. Gustaf sat and cradled the baby, joy and adoration pouring from him. Did she want that with him, could she give that to him, she wondered, as the all familiar questions kept repeating in her mind like a cracked record?

They spent the early part of the evening apart, Sildie was determined not to hang on Gustaf like a lost puppy. She was a lawyer damnit and this was just his family. She had to get used to being around them, with them, and without Gustaf as a safety net. There would be times he would be away and they would visit, and she wanted to be comfortable visiting them, with or without the kids.

She smiled as Alex walked over and put Eija in a loving headlock, she missed that playfulness you could only get with a sibling. The both of them keeping her entertained and helping her to relax. Alex was reliving an exceptionally funny story when Gustaf caught her eye, that smoldering look that had her almost crossing her legs as her pussy throbbed. His gaze raked over her body, undressing her as it went, the heat rising in her. How did he do that, she wondered? Not to be outdone she nibbled on her bottom lip and saw the desire flash in his stare. Running her tongue over her lips she swore she heard his groan before he whipped out his phone. A moment later her text tone went off.

You’re playing a dangerous game kitten, unless you’re begging me to put you over my knee and spank you with an audience you need to stop.

She could practically hear the growl as the words leapt off her screen. Looking at him from under her lashes she bit her lip again and twirled a finger around the moonstone beads.

Promise?

She texted back and grinned wickedly.

He had to check the groan at her words, his cock twitching, he wasn’t going to make it until midnight if she kept up with her current sinful teasing, he was uncomfortably hard in his jeans as it was. Trying to have a conversation with his family while hiding a massive boner was difficult. Sitting on the arm chair he half tuned into the conversation, half watched his seductive goddess move through the room. Those curves, that mane of silk copper, those cherry red lips he wanted around his cock. The sight of her was seduction enough.

He watched her talk with his father, the slight shift in her emotions clear to him, but not anyone else. She was trying so hard to put her grief behind her and have a good night, making the effort to get to know his family where most others hadn’t bothered to take the time. First rule of the new year, he thought, love this woman with every part of my soul, every second of every day, show her how incredible she is.

“I’m sorry I upset you the other day.” Stellan said gently as he grabbed Sildie another water.

“You didn’t. I’m still processing a lot of grief, it gets in the way sometimes. If anything I’m the one that should be apologizing for running out of there so quickly, it was rude.” She’d felt bad after he’d helped them move the display cabinet that day.

“No need. You’re still finding your feet after the rug was ripped out from under you. It couldn’t have been easy with four kids on top of it.” Stellan watched her carefully, he didn’t want to dive into it too much and have her freak out.

“It’s no picnic.” She said softly.

“It’ll settle, give it time, lean on Gustaf, on us. We’ll do everything we can to make things easier on you and the kids, especially when Gustaf’s away. Anytime, day or night, Megan and I are just a short elevator ride away and she works from home most of the time.”

“Thank you.”

“I know Gustaf’s said it and I’ll say it too, you’re not alone anymore Sildie. This family sticks together, we help each other out. Sure we bicker and fight, but when we need to we rally, no questions, no judgement.” Stellan pulled Megan over for a kiss before they settled into a conversation about safer topics, his statement resonating with her, family, support, love.

She could see the pride Stellan had for his kids, what they’d accomplished, the lives each one of them had carved out for themselves. In the short time she’d been with his family, Gustaf resembled Stellan the most. That same warmth and kindness she felt with Gustaf she felt from Stellan, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. As they talked and each sibling drifted in and out of the conversation she realized how much she’d missed out on growing up, how much she missed her brother, her parents. The slow seduction from across the room throughout the night was tantalizing. Those subtle suggestive looks, the nibble of her bottom lip, the flirtatious knowing smirk he’d give her as he blatantly undressed her with his eyes. It wasn’t until 11:30 and the younger kids had gone to bed, that Gustaf stole her away from talking to his father to dance, Stellan grinning as Gustaf waltzed her around the room.

“It’s a promise kitten.” He growled at her ear as he pulled her close and swayed, the soft jazz filling the apartment. “The things I’m going to do to you.” He dipped her slowly and kissed her throat. “I should punish you for tormenting me from across the room too.” His tone was that seductive timbre that made her pussy throb. “My sex kitten in black velvet.”

She bit down on her bottom lip to push the issue and he gripped it hard, borderline painful. It always amazed her at how he managed to skate that line between pleasure and pain so deftly. Still dancing he kissed her, slow, sensual, devouring. “Don’t push me kitten.” He purred, his lips ghosting hers as he let her chin go, fingers trailing her body to wrap around hers. “You may get more than you bargained for tonight.”

“God I hope so.” She purred, those ruby red painted lips kissing that one spot on his neck that turned him to mush. “I want to feel you daddy.” She whispered.

“We’re leaving the minute after the new year.” He dipped her again. “Because I can’t wait much longer to have you. Dancing and teasing is one thing, but I want you bound and begging.” He kissed her, tongue teasing hers. “And you will be begging.”

“You keep kissing me like that and we’re not going to make it home.” She muttered as he held her close. His low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

“You’ll make it home, I don’t want an audience when I fuck you slowly until you scream my name.” He felt the shiver ripple through her body, now doubt in his mind she’d be wet for him. “I’m going to take my time with you, tie you up, take you apart an orgasm at a time.” His kiss was slow and sinful and if he kept talking to her like this she was going to orgasm right in the middle of the party. “Mmm you like the sound of that don’t you kitten?”

“You know I do.” Her gaze found his, the seductive blue looking back.

“Just say the word and we’ll go.” He smirked, knowing she’d want to dance some more and see midnight, time was it’s own seduction. He twirled her around the room, content to feel her let go and have fun. This was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her.

“I see where you get your jazz gene from.” She chuckled, she had to change the topic or she’d embarrass herself. “Your dad has good taste in music, that’s what we’re were talking about before you whisked me away.” She laughed as he dipped her low.

“Fuck me I love that laugh.” He murmured, his lips grazing her temple as he grinned like a fool. “Dad and I are a lot alike.”

“You are. You have the same smile.” She said softly and kissed those lips she craved. “The same kindhearted soul.” He looked at her, eyes drowning in hers.

“It takes like souls to see each other.” He tucked a wave of copper behind her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweet man.”

Gustaf closed his eyes and swayed with her, the joy and happiness on her face as he held her close, the tender touches as they talked and got lost in each other. He was, as Bill had put it, gone over her, so completely. This was what he wanted of for her, the happy bubble, he’d see she got more of it.

“My Sildie.” He murmured as the countdown to midnight started. “You’re the best thing to come into my life.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for walking into mine, into ours, you are my everything love.” She felt so at peace with him, the world on the cusp of a new year, new beginnings, a fresh start. As the clock chimed midnight he kissed her, slow and long, a silent promise that he would take care of her, take care of the kids, become the family he so desperately wanted with her, and they so desperately needed from him.

“Sweet man, I love you.” She whispered, before deepening the kiss. She wanted him, this, family, the feeling of being loved for who she was, baggage and all.

“I love you too.” He squeezed her tightly and danced her around the room. “Now those are the best first words of the new year.” He chuckled and dipped her, that laugh making him deliriously happy.

“There’s so much love in this room.” She said softly as they swayed, the slower song drifting them along with it.

“As family should be love.” He smiled kissing her head and breathing in her scent.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“What for?”

“For giving me a family.” She whispered and closed her eyes, the stray tears falling as he danced with her cheek to cheek.

“Don’t cry love.” He kissed each cheek, the saltiness of her tears making his heart break.

“Sorry, they’re mostly happy tears.” She chuckled.

“It’s ok to miss them love.” He murmured kissing her tenderly. She was happy, yes, but the undercurrent of grief made things more difficult for her.

“I just hate when it bubbles up like this.”

“Better it bubbling up than holding it in.” He said gently, which he knew she did on a daily basis. She held so much of it in it was a wonder she could hold it together at all, he’d be a wreck. “Talk to me love.” He leaned back slightly as they continued to dance so he could see her face. “It’s New Year’s Eve, air out the mental laundry.” Her laugh was more a snort.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” She scoffed

“Try.” He whispered before dipping her low.

“It sounds silly.” And she wasn’t sure of what his reaction would be.

“So let it sound silly.”

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction

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cubexr · 3 years

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today, on 4th of may, i turn 19,, woah

here is a list of 19 things that i’ve learnt during these years

as my dad always says, things tend to work out. remember the thing that stressed you 5 years ago? 7 months ago? they all worked out in the end. maybe not in the way you wanted it to happen but still. give it some time

sunflowers deserve more love

you are never too old to gather your friends to celebrate your birthday. i will do it when i am 75 and only global pandemic can stop me.

reading books never goes out of style

loving who you are is a long process, but notice the small things and i swear some day you will notice how beautiful you are. believe people when they tell u how amazing you look, they know what they are talking about

eat as many cookies as you want. the only one who is counting is you

giving monday a change might actually be a good thing once in a life. tuesday is the real enemy

rewatching your favorite show again and again is more than okay. it’s your favorite for a reason

you never should have to explain why you like something. love it as much as you do.

there is nothing embarrassing in making mistakes when you are learning a new language. you might notice that i make mistakes while speaking english, nowadays i don’t really care. at least i am trying

there are people who will always be glad to see you

there isn’t a thing more beautiful than sunset. it’s something we don’t deserve but still get everyday. appreciate it. and there is no such thing as too many pictures of it. have as many as possible

mario kart wii is the best game and i will die on that hill

the moon is inspiring in a way that it is impossible to explain. poets and the moon. they touch souls

no one is positive all the time. absolutely no one. they are lying if they tell you otherwise. you don’t always have to be positive, it is too much for anyone

seeing the good in things isn’t fake

the sound of people laughing as hard as possible never gets old. i love it i love it i love it.

sing. you don’t have to be good. sing. i don’t care if you are completely tone deaf. sing. just sing. sing as loudly as possible to your favorite songs. hum quietly while doing the dishes. sing even if you don’t know the lyrics. sing and never mind who is listening. there could never be too much singing

and last but not least, be kind. it all starts from that. be kind 🧡

all the love,

oona

#inspiration #oona goes <3

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 4, 2021: The Great Dictator (Review)

It's a 100%. Haven't given one of those in a while!

Here's the thing: this is a great film. Hang the comedy bit, even though it's also a very funny film! This is a great movie, no questions. I actually have no problems with it, and barely any actual commentary, gonna be honest. Fact of the matter is, it's essentially perfect in my book. Maybe it's not actually flawless...but I'm having a lot of trouble seeing any flaws. If you've got any, PLEASE tell me! I'm curious, really.

But OK, why am I even writing this, then? Because I want to close out this Golden Era of Comedy with a post about the end of its biggest star, Charlie Chaplin. Because from here...things are all downhill. And the seeds of that journey can be seen in this film. So, in other words, this post is a film history post. WELCOME TO SCHOOL

Yeah, sorry. If you like these history posts, I hope you like this one! And if not...yeah, that's entirely fair. Go ahead and skip this one! The next movie is Arsenic and Old Lace, so I'll save you the trouble of scrolling down! See you next time!

...

...OK, you still here? Cool, let's do this. Go ahead and "keep reading" for more on Chaplin after this film!

Review: Charlie Chaplin

Chaplin's walking on air, at least in terms of his film career! The Great Dictator will become his best-received film critically, and was a smash-hit in the United States. But that's pretty heavily contrasted with the reception of, well, Chaplin himself. Because unfortunately for him, Chaplin's ideologies would soon VIOLENTLY clash with that of his adopted country of the United States.

First things first, his love life was a mess, as was typical for the film star. His latest significant other was actress Joan Barry, and they separated bitterly (AKA, the only was Chaplin separates from anybody), after having a child together. This relationship would begin the downfall of Chaplin's image, starting in 1942. And that would be due to one of the most irritating, shitty dudes in the history of the FBI: J. Edgar Hoover.

Hoover HATED Chaplin, mostly because he was suspicious of him, as he was with EVERYBODY. Fuck Hoover, by the way, dude was a monster. He was also an INSANE patriot, bordering on straight up nationalism. But his hatred of Chaplin revolved around the fact that Chaplin's views were...controversial. I mean, Modern Times was an anti-industrialist film, and that's what the USA was ALL ABOUT at the time. And then, there's...one more thing. I'll get there.

Hoover launched a smear campaign against Charlie, and the Barry case was saddled with an additional allegation: violation of the Mann Act, which stated that it was illegal to transport women across state lines for sexual reasons. It was an attempt to stifle prostitution, and part of a massive moral panic of the time period. It was a bullshit charge, and Chaplin escaped it in trial. But damage had been done to his reputation, and Charlie was about to make it worse.

Shortly after, in 1943, Chaplin would meet his last wife, Oona O'Neill. She was 18, he was 54. Fuckin' OOF, dude. And in 19 years, the two would have EIGHT CHILDREN JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CHAPLIN!!!

Anyway, other than this positive development, the Barry trial had beaten the shit out of him, will-wise. But he began developing a new ambitious film project in 1946, which was called Monsieur Verdoux. This was a black comedy about a bank clerk/serial killer that killed women for money. Which is obviously pretty controversial in a moral panic-stricken America, but that was made worse by Chaplin more overtly expressing his political views...which were violently anti-capitalism! In post-World War II America!

Uh-oh.

In 1947, with the release of Monsieur Verdoux, the film was legit booed at the premiere in the USA. Fuck. Tensions finally came to a head, and Chaplin was "outed" as a filthy, filthy commie! And I put "outed" in quotes because, well...he wasn't. Sure, Chaplin was against capitalism and military nationalism, as well as sympathizing with communist ideals in some cases. He was also friends with suspected communists, and with Soviet diplomats. And that shit's barely OK NOW amongst a pretty big proportion of people in the country. In 1947? WAY FUCKIN' WORSE.

Chaplin was "dangerous and amoral" according to the FBI, and he probably believed in equal rights for minorities too, the FILTHY FUCKIN' COMMIE!!! But, yeah, he was targeted by Joseph McCarthy and the House Un-American Activities Committee, and was nearly listed as one of the Hollywood Ten, a group of filmmakers blacklisted from Hollywood for alleged communist activities. Chaplin escaped that, but was still a major target for the Red Scare.

Chaplin, not giving a fuck as always, now decided upon a new project. Limelight was a semi-autobiographical film, in which he played an aging former vaudeville actor who had lost his popularity and fame, and falls in love with a younger woman. On the nose as always, Chaplin. Also, that's Buster Keaton in the GIF up there! Only time the two ever appeared on screen. Neat, huh?

Chaplin went home to the UK for the film's well-publicized premiere in 1952. And that's when the US Attorney General STRUCK, revoking Chaplin's VISA, and trapping him overseas permanently. Chaplin was banned from the United States, through really shitty underhanded tactics. Fuck, man. Worst part is, it's since been proven that there was no good justification for the VISA to be revoked. But the damage was done, and Chaplin willingly cut his ties with the United States, having been spurned by his adopted country for years.

Loved in Europe and hated in America, Charlie continued making films, with his next film being another semi-autobiographical parody called A King in New York. He also came out not as a communist, but as a straight-up anarchist! He hated government altogether at this point, and it's hard to blame the guy. He really did get screwed. But, ironically, his love life was now quite stable, and his marriage with Oona was happy, by all accounts.

His films were banned in the United States, and Chaplin banned them right back, not releasing his films there, and preventing American journalists from attending its premiere. But even ten years later, Chaplin's filmography began to re-emerge for movie audiences, and his popularity began to rebound. The man was just that good, what can I say? Chaplin made a romantic comedy in 1967, called A Countess from Hong Kong, and starring Marlon Brando of all people! It was his first color film, and...it did NOT go well with audiences, ANYWHERE. It just wasn't well-received, and that film would be Chaplin's last.

In 1967, Chaplin had his first stroke of many. He continued his marriage with Oona, and even continued making another film called The Freak, an ambitious project from what's known about it. Basically, it was about a South American girl with wings, which is interesting. In 1972, after 20 years away, Chaplin was welcomed back to the United States with open arms, and was given an Honorary Academy Award for his insane contribution to the medium since the Golden Age of Hollywood. He was given a 12-minute standing ovation, the longest ever given at an Academy Award ceremony.

Still planning on making his film, he returned home. But the film went on a permanent hiatus by 1977, by which time his health had badly declined. On Christmas Day, 1977, Chaplin was found dead, having suffered a stroke in his sleep. He was 88 years of age, and was buried two days later in Switzerland. And THEN...he was dug up.

Yeah, DUDE'S GRAVE WAS FUCKIN' ROBBED! A couple of guys held Chaplin's corpse for ransom, which didn't work out for them, and he was reburied a few days later, this time in a reinforced concrete vault, where his remains remain to this day.

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Charles Spencer Chaplin is one of the greatest actors and filmmakers of his time, and didn't deserve the guff he got from the government. The guff he got from his wives...eh, that he probably did deserve, not gonna lie. Dude wasn't the best husband, or the best dad to at least three of his kids. But in an ongoing effort to separate the art from the artist, Chaplin needs to be appreciated for the mountain of talent that he was, and his films will make him immortal in the annals of film history. Long live the Tramp.

But with him and his influence, the film industry had a place to evolve from, especially in terms of comedy. After The Great Dictator, some comedies felt the freedom to take a bit of a darker tone. And from here on out, we're splitting the timeline by genre, tracking comedy films by the evolution of their respective genres. And we start in 1944, with a film about...MYURDERRRR!!! And sweet old ladies!

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), dir. Frank Capra

#the great dictator #charlie chaplin #paulette goddard #jack oakie #henry daniell #reginald gardiner #billy gilbert #maurice mossovich #user365 #365days365movies #365 days 365 movies #365 movies 365 days #365 movies a year #comedy april #useraina

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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Alex Recommends: May and June Books

I must apologise for the late arrival of this post. It should have been up days ago but I’ve been struggling to read much for the last month or so. My head has been very foggy and dark with all of the confusion, anxiety and hate that has been filling my news feeds and I’ve been filled with a desire to combat it. Before this month, I’d have run in the opposite direction from any kind of confrontation but recent events have given me the kick up the butt to actively do better. I’ve been calling out bigotry when I come across it and I’ve noticed that some people, notably my older relatives, haven’t necessarily reacted favorably to the changed, more outspoken Alex. It has been pretty daunting and I’ve worked myself up into fits of rage and tears several times over the last couple of months.

A lot of things have changed for me since my last Alex Recommends post. I’m currently temporarily living in Staffordshire with my boyfriend because my depression got too bad for me to stay at home for much longer. I missed him unbelievably much and I knew that spending some prolonged time with him would help -and it has. Both him and I have spent 12 weeks religiously following all of the rules, so we’re both extremely low-risk for catching and spreading COVID-19 and being together was something that we simply really needed to do. Please don’t hate me for it! In other news, I have also started writing again, which feels amazing. I’m now a few thousand words into a queer Rapunzel retelling that I have lots of ideas for. Maybe I’ll even post an extract or two, when I feel it’s ready to show you.

In the centre of the renewed energy of Black Lives Matter and the undeniable exposure of the horrors that is police brutality, the book blogging and BookTube worlds vowed to uplift Black voices. I wrote a very long, in-depth blog post full of Black-written books and Black book influencers. Please check it out to diversify your TBR and educate yourself on Black issues, which is what every white person should be doing now and always.

June was Pride Month and I tried my best to compile a series of recommendation posts in honour of it. These included gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, ace, pansexual and intersex lists. I’ve had some great feedback on this, so I hope you find some fantastic new reads. It felt especially poignant to put them together the same year that one of my childhood heroes came out as an ignorant trans-exclusive feminist. As a lifelong Harry Potter superfan and someone who has repeatedly publicly supported Rowling in the past, I feel the need to clarify where I now stand. I do not support or agree with a single thing that she has said in recent times with regard to transgender people. I’ve never felt my own status as a cisgender female threatened by trans people wanting more rights or believed that children or women were at risk due to their existence.

I read her words more than once and struggled to find any semblance of the woman who wrote the books that have most defined my life. I’m hesitant to say that we can always successfully separate the art from the artist but I will say that it makes sense to me that the Rowling of 2020 is not the same Rowling that wrote Harry Potter. She was a destitute single mother when Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997 and of course, she is now a million worlds away from that lifestyle. It breaks my heart but it makes sense to me that she has changed beyond belief because her life has changed beyond belief. I’m not and never would make any excuses for her recent behaviour and I have stopped supporting her personally but I will not be getting rid of my Harry Potter books and I will undoubtedly re-read them several more times. However, I am now hugely reluctant to buy any more merchandise or special editions of the books, which saddens me but at the moment, it feels right. There is no coming back for her from this and I will make a conscious effort to keep Harry Potter and Rowling away from my future content. It can be really tough to admit that the people you once really admired aren’t great humans but it’s something that we all have to acknowledge in this case, in order to move forward with our own quests to become our best selves.

It didn’t feel right to post my May recommendations last month as I didn’t feel comfortable promoting my own content in the midst of boosting Black voices. So today I’m bringing you a bumper edition of Alex Recommends. Here are 10 books that I’ve enjoyed since the start of May that I’d love to share with you. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

FICTION: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Set in the affluent neighbourhood of Shaker Heights, Ohio in the 1990s, two families are brought together and pulled apart by the most intense, devastating circumstances. Dealing with issues of race, class, coming-of-age, motherhood and the dangers of perfection, Little Fires Everywhere is highly addictive and effecting. With characters who are so heartbreakingly real and a story that weaves its way to your very core, I couldn’t put it down and I’m still thinking about it over a month after finishing it.

FICTION: Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert

When coding nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she makes a list of goals and vows to finally Get A Life. So she enlists tattooed redhead handyman and biker Red to teach her how. Cute, funny and ultimately life-affirming, this enemies-to-lovers rom-com was exactly the brand of light relief that I needed this month. The follow-up Take A Hint, Dani Brown focuses on a fake-dating situation with Chloe’s over-achieving academic sister and I can’t wait to get my hands on that.

FICTION: The Rearranged Life of Oona Lockhart by Margarita Montimore

Just before her 19th birthday at midnight on New Year’s Eve 1983, Oona Lockhart finds herself inexplicably in 2015 inside her 51-year-old body. She soon learns that every year on New Year’s Day, she will now find herself inside a random year of her life and she has no control over it. Seeing her through relationships, friendships and extreme wealth, this strange novel has echoes of Back To The Future and 13 Going On 30 with a final revelation that I certainly never saw coming.

NON-FICTION: The Five by Hallie Rubenhold

Atmospheric and engaging, The Five details the previously untold stories of Polly, Annie, Elisabeth, Kate and Mary-Jane -the women who lost their lives at the hands of Jack the Ripper. Full of fascinating research and heartbreaking accounts of what these women’s lives may have been like, Rubenhold paints a dark immersive portrait of Victorian London and gives voice to these tragic silenced lives. Although we can’t know for certain if these accounts are entirely accurate, they feel very plausible and in some ways, The Five exposes how little time has moved on, when it comes to the public portrayal of single, troubled women.

NON-FICTION: Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi

From a childhood crush on Macaulay Culkin to how a teenage obsession with marine biology helped them realise their non-binary identity, Unicorn tells the story of how the obsessive perfectionist son of a strict Muslim Iraqi family became the gorgeous drag queen Glamrou. Packed full of humour, honesty and heart, this book will give you the strength and inspiration to harness what you were born with and be who you were always meant to be.

MIDDLE-GRADE: The Super Miraculous Journey of Freddie Yates by Jenny Pearson

When fact-obsessed Freddie’s grandmother dies, he discovers that the father he has never met may actually be alive and living in Wales. So he has no choice but to grab his best friends Ben and Charlie, leave his home in Andover and go to find his dad! I laughed so many times during this madcap adventure and I know the slapstick crazy humour will hit the middle-grade target audience just right. It’s also a wonderful depiction of small town Britain with a focus on the true meaning of family.

MIDDLE-GRADE: A Kind Of Spark by Elle McNicoll

When Addie learns about her hometown’s history of witch trials, she campaigns tirelessly to get a memorial for the women who lost their lives through it. This wonderfully beautiful novel gives a unique insight into the mind of an 11-year-old autistic girl with a huge heart. Busting myths about neurodiversity while tackling typical pre-teen drama, you’ll laugh, you’ll cry but most of all, you’ll close the book with a huge smile on your face.

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This enchanting, all-consuming account of the tragic story of Shakespeare’s lost son, the effects that rippled through the family and the play that was born from their pain will send a bullet straight through your heart. Wonderfully researched and beautifully written, Hamnet is worth all of the hype.

HISTORICAL FICTION: The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

When a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway, it’s up to the women to keep things going but a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. Gorgeously written with a fantastically slow-burning queer romance, Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s first adult novel is an addictive, atmospheric read with a poignant, tearjerker of an ending.

SCI-FI: Q by Christina Dalcher

When one of Elena’s daughters manages to drop below the country’s desired Q number, she is sent away to one of the new state schools and Elena is about to find out something she’d really rather not know about the new system. Packed full of real social commentary and critique of life as we know it while painting a picture of how things could be even worse (yes, really!), this pulse-racing, horrifying sci-fi dystopian gripped me from the first page and refused to let me go.

#book recommendations #recommended #recommendations #may #june #books #bookworm

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pplydm · 4 years

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ePUB#46

Title: Oona Out of Order Author: Margarita Montimore

Based on the synopsis, this is the uncanny story of Oona. She was blessed (and cursed!) with the power to travel through time, basically back and forth in any of her specific years. Unfortunately, she isn't in control and surprises herself every time when is the next age she'll wake up in. It happens in her birthday which is the New Years day at the same time. I do find the concept of making the date of new year similar to the protagonist's birthday rather overused in romantic comedy and fictional drama films. It appeared to me Oona meets a different set of peers every year. I didn't expect inclusion of a frivolous phase of 27 year old Oona with the dancing hobby and partying habit; clubbing craziness accompanied with several ostentatious queer acquaintances. Also, I expected Edward’s extent of niceness and loving, a facade; he was a major red flag! There were also quite bothering number of occasional misunderstandings between Oona with either her mom, Madeleine, or Kenzie in some years. I daresay Oona is Oona no matter the advantages time travel may provide. She may write guidelines, cheat sheets, spoilers, etc. for herself but her dominant personalities and preferences are rooted. Apparently explaining why she ends up with almost the exact outcomes as her life originally turned out. Props to the author allowing the main character be financially literate and all the more, maintained it throughout the lifetime. Naturally due to time travel being the focus, the essence of wise investments is obligatory to be brought up.

If this book wanted its readers confused, I sure will attest to experiencing precisely that. The disorganized arrangement of her life totally put my thoughts somewhat slightly in shambles too. The story dove into its fantasy premise immediately. The time travel started from the very first chapter in contrast to my expectation which was that the narration would begin with the scene how Oona's cool life glitch came to be. I slowly adjusted with Oona's journey quirks then settled myself eventually. One has to finish this until the end to reach the satisfaction of the stories falling perfectly into its respective year and grasping why those were the occurrences in every leap. I consider the author creative with the titles she crafted and picked for the age seasons Oona went through. That made me feel like I'm reading a biography and a posh, lifestyle magazine combined into one. Excuse my lack of better sentences as description. The book name “Oona Out of Order” sounded like a children’s storybook title which makes it fascinating. The drama and tensions among her immediate relatives strikes the heart, making my general star rating a 4/5 when in fact only deserves 3/5.

Sidenote: Since this was dedicated to the author's grandmother named Oola, I like to imagine Oola retelling her life and there are times when she incorrectly places certain personal events to its respective timestamp as she shares. Thus producing the inspiration for the magical input of time travel. And maybe, Oola, just like some people, enjoy to relish and relive her great memories along with the deplorable ones she may probably desire to grab an opportunity to undo. Collected several quotes as I read along:

but the world is gonna carry on whether you spend the year moping in bed or exploring it.

being able to buy anything put a spotlight on the things that couldn't be bought (lost friendship, lost love, lost time)

Mama used to say what you dislike in other people is really what you dislike in yourself.

Vietnam was equally enchanting and humbling. The impoverished conditions of many locals put her in her place. Here were people with real hardships, yet she continued to obsess over life's injustices against her. How ungrateful, to mope while staying in four-and five-star hotels, how tiresome this sullenness.

As her wanderlust and appetite for novelty grew, she became less afraid of solitude.

It felt good to get lost and was tempting to stay lost.

But there was a freedom in making mistakes, feeling broken, falling into the void, and then climbing out. A freedom in letting go, setting aside, moving on.

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transboygenius · 5 years

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SE4SON: Chapter 18

[*Meanwhile, in the modern world*]

A sleep deprived, messy Judy Neutron was screaming at the RPD (Retroville Police Department) through the phone, accompanied by a sane, and frightened, Mrs. Dean.

"What do you mean there's still no lead?! I don't care how early in the morning it is! Shouldn't you boys be doing your job?! Whatever happened to serve and protect?! It's been a week since I've lost my Jamie!" "Jimmy." Mrs. Dean corrected. "Jimmy, I mean! My son Jimmy! For being gone that long, who knows what has happened to him?! He's got a gourd shaped head, and an ice cream cowlick hairdo! How is that hard for you to miss?! Yeah? Well then, search around the globe if you have to-"

The RPD then hung up. Poor Judy. It was 5:00 in the morning. She literally won't rest until she finds her son in one piece. She hasn't bathed in five days, and tried using perfume instead. Sleep meant nothing to her no more, so she drinks at least three cups of coffee a day. Possibly more. She hasn't cooked in awhile, either. Just ordering takeout and reheating frozen foods. It isn't like Judy to not prepare a home cooked meal for more than one day. She's been pulling all nighters, circling the whole town, or country, in her car, stapling posters everywhere, and searching for her Jimmy. She's like a detective on a stakeout. All this lack of rest has turned her mind loopy. For some unknown reason, she keeps accidentally addressing "Jimmy" as "Jamie." Apart from the fact that Nick is gone too, Mrs. Dean is also there as Judy's emotional support.

"Judy, you need to calm down. Here, have some warm tea." "Calm down? Calm down! There's no time to calm down, now that I know that the RPD isn't any help!" "There's always time to calm down. Wherever your son is, he's probably fine for now! He's smart enough to take care of himself." "How would you know?! Your son isn't lost!" "Technically, he is." "Oh... But are you even making an effort to find him?" "I'm doing what I can to find him! The reason I came up to you to begin with was to figure out what my son has in connection with yours!" "Shouldn't you be able to know that yourself? You are his mother, right? A mother always knows her child best!" "If I could! Nick is easy to read as a closed book. We don't communicate so often. I think it has something to do with his father being so unpleasant." "You can save me the sob story for later! I gotta phone the next police department!" "No! Stop!" "I must find Jamie!" "Jimmy!" "My name is Judy, dammit!"

................................

[*That morning*]

Jimmy fell asleep with the diary laying on his face. While both him and Nick usually wake up by the rooster's cry, Nick removed the diary and shook him awake.

"Nick? Is it breakfast time?" "No, not yet. You gotta help me." "*Looks at the broom in his hands* You need help cleaning?" "I need you to help me from HER."

Nick was then surprised by a hard smack on the back, by a mop. Sally was trying to fight with him, in hopes to help the "Silver Knight" regain his memory. All Nick has done so far was block out her attacks. Not that he would make a lousy swordsman, he just can't bring himself to hit someone much younger than him. Instead of actual swords, their using cleaning implements. The battle begun when Sally woke Nick up with a smack on the chest. No matter what he told her, she just wouldn't believe him.

"Fight back, Nick! Trying knocking the weapon out of my hand! It might give you some nostalgia!" "Little girl, we're not a pair of enchanted cartoon characters! We're just two lost boys from the future! I'll prove it to you! Cageflix! Ramen Bowl! Internet!" "Stop making up excuses to back out and fight me!" "You're four years younger than me!"

Jimmy then broke up the fight.

"Hey, Sally?" Asked Jimmy. "Yes?" Replied Sally. "Wouldn't you like to meet our friends? You know, the ones who illegally inherit this ranch?" "But we're in the middle of something!" "You must meet them now, cuz if you don't, they might think we're holding a hostage captive." "Yeah. And we already have this mean Christian fanatic who thinks we're the devil's spawns." Said Nick.

Rolling her eyes, Sally then put down her mop, and decided to let Jimmy and Nick lead her into the hut. To make a good impression for keeping a stranger, Nick began to make breakfast: Moose sandwiches, blueberry strudels, and freshly squeezed orange juice. He also put on some coffee. Sally began to drool from looking at Nick's fine art.

"It looks great! Guess you learned something while under amnesia! Although, it'd really be fun to see Jimmy, here, turn a morsel of meat into a whole cured ham before my eyes." Said Sally, clutching a knife and fork.

Jimmy got annoyed by her comment, since he doesn't exactly believe in magic. Just in time, a weary Diana, Rodent Girl, and Benson entered the kitchen. Sally was intrigued by Diana's appearance. She has never seen a woman that large before. Rodent Girl went over to the cupboard to fetch her coffee mug. Being so drowsy, she spoke in her usual, monotone morning voice, and greeted Sally like she was a regular to them. Diana and Benson were both shocked to see a little girl, they've never seen before, in their kitchen. The two stood in silence for a few seconds, and frankly so did Jimmy, Nick, and Sally.

"Morning, Jimmy. Morning, Nick. Morning, kid I don't even know." Greeted a tired Rodent Girl. "Uhhhhhh, Miss Oona... Aren't you the slightest surprised at the unexpected guest?" Asked Benson. "I'm too tired to emote."

Diana looked Sally straight in the eye. Sally was frozen from the buff lady's eye contact, despite that she didn't look ominous.

"Hello?" Asked Diana. "H-hi?" Replied Sally. "HOLY, MACARONI! THERE'S A KID WE DON'T KNOW SITTING RIGHT HERE IN OUR KITCHEN!" Screamed Rodent Girl, after drinking her coffee.

Jimmy then decided to explain the whole thing, and Nick served as his second voice. The two boys told them about how this little girl followed them due to some misidentification for a Wise Wizard and Silver Knight ("It's not a misidentification! It's true!"), how they welcomed her into their hospitality since her parents were caught victim of a penalty, and how she's under no one's care because it's illustrated by king's law that orphans must serve their entire youth in laborism. Diana was so moved by Sally's backstory. She started sobbing, her eyes watered, and she swept the little girl off the ground.

"*Weeping* How can any man be so cruel, as to separate a child away from their family?! They may never experience the warm embrace of a mother or father ever again! That is so INHUMAN!" Said Diana. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss, young lady." Benson spoke casually. "I second that." And so did Rodent Girl. "That's it?! What on Earth is wrong with you two?! This child's parents have been hanged, all for the greater good! Could you try showing at least a small dose of your sympathy?!" "I find that very difficult, since my parents have always neglected me." Benson replied casually. "And I was abandoned at birth." And SO did Rodent Girl. "You heartless brutes!"

Diana then put Sally down.

"Little girl...!" Said Diana. "This little girl has a name, you know." Replied Sally. "...I don't care if I have to steal overtime to feed another mouth around here! Consider us your new family!" "Uhh, thanks! Very much! (That's neat! A buff mom, a mousy older sister, and a girly uncle!)" "Let me introduce everyone! I'm Diana! This is Rodent Girl, Benson, *Points out the window* Butterscotch, and there's Mitzi, but she's currently at work right now. You can meet her later! She's real nice! She may be even nicer to you. You've already met Jimmy and Nick!" "The legendary Wise Wizard and Silver Knight!" "What now?" Asked Rodent Girl. "No, we're not! It's just a coincidence! I don't even believe in magic!" Exclaimed Jimmy. "The Wise Wizard and Silver Knight. I thought their warm, loving relationship reminded me of some pair." Quote Benson. "HA! See?" Bragged Sally. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me they were real?" Asked Nick. "Mm! I was just a tiny lad at that time. Although I've never really met them, I did follow them around among tall crowds, trying to get their autograph, since they were quite popular to the youngsters. I had no success, however. But witnessing the Silver Knight in battle, and the Wise Wizard with his gifted sorcery, that was about the happiest memory of my childhood." "You can meet them officially when I help them regain their memories back!" Suggested Sally. "Oh, these two young gentlemen can't possibly be them!" "I know it's hard to believe by first glance, but trust me! What you see here is a spell gone wrong! Heck, it's probably the cause of their amnesia!" "Nonsense! Besides, if that were them, why would they want to return here?" "They're here to rid us of our pain once again! Although they can't remember anything, they still hold their heroic instincts within their hearts, and their brains!" "We're not here to relieve anyone of their pain! Just Diana and her crew! (Minus Mitzi)" Said Jimmy. "And the reason we're risking our butts out there is because they were kind enough to offer us food and a roof to sleep under while other Middle Age folks just wanted to burn us at the stake!" Nick spoke through gritted teeth.

.............................

[*Back in the modern ages*]

Carl looked through his magic supplies one last time. He doesn't feel like performing again since Jimmy is still gone. Jimmy would've been the only person who would sit down to watch him, since he wasn't a very good magician. At all. He hasn't even found that darn rabbit yet. The guys on TV sure make it look easy. Suddenly, he heard the doorbell ring. As Carl went to answer it, he found it was Sheen, holding a pink paper box, with a grin on his face. Sheen was just about the second last person he wanted to see right now.

"What do you want?" Carl asked in displease. "Well, I just happened to walk by a local bakery downtown, and my sweet tooth just urged me to walk right in! While looking through the selections, I started thinking about you. So, I picked up your favorite pastry!" Replied Sheen. "Goat milk matcha pound cake?" "Nope! Cwaaaaaaaasonts!"

Sheen opened the box to reveal a baker's dozen of golden croissants. Carl was still unamused, and just decided to close the door. Sheen, however, stopped the door by sticking his foot out!

"Wait, Carl! I've spent $30.95 for the baker's dozen! I was gonna use that money to purchase a VespaGirl body pillow online!" "You think you can just buy my friendship back with some baked, buttery, crispy, delectable... *Mouth starts to water* But you can't! What you had said broke my heart! Jimmy is important to my life just as you were!" "I am important to your life?" "I said 'were!' Now get off my doorstep!"

Carl then went to close the door again, but with all strength this time to keep Sheen from getting in, since he was holding a box. Sheen had to drop the croissants to force the door open.

"Carl! Carl! At least let me tell you something!" "I've heard about enough from you!" "But I came here to say I'm sorry!" "What?"

Carl opened the door wide.

"I'm sorry. Taking back everything I've ever said to you. I didn't know Jimmy meant that much to your life. You two were very close together more than any pair I knew. Possibly even the romantic ones. Also, I miss you, buddy. I'm lonely. I have Libby, but I can't be disgusting and foolish around her now, can't I? Look; Just because Jimmy can't be my friend, doesn't mean he can't be yours. We could still hang as pals, even with Jimmy around. I mean, we never liked Cindy, but we still tolerated her presence. *Gets down on his knees* Please, take me back. All those degrading words were just my invalid opinion. Nothing I say is even true."

Carl hesitated for a bit, while Sheen looked up at him, sweating. The allergy boy just closed the door. Sheen, being so heartbroken, hung his head down. Way before Jimmy came into their lives, him and Carl were the best of friends. Although Carl didn't like Ultralord, and Sheen thought llamas were too weak and soft, they both spoke to each other on the same mindset. The two were goofy and idiotic. Carl became friends with Jimmy after feeling sorry for the big haired misfit. A few months later, Sheen also became Jimmy's friend after he helped him pass the math test his grade depended on. The boy genius was more generous and considerate back then. Also, he discovered the cool gadgets he built. As they officially formed a trio, Carl and Sheen were more closer than ever. Jimmy was a bonus addition. That didn't mean he loved Jimmy less. Except maybe right now.

What's he gonna do without Carl in his life? He loves Libby, but he feels he doesn't have that much in common with her. She dedicates her life to fashion and music. Sheen dedicates his life to Ultralord and gross stuff. Around Carl, he feels that he can truly be himself with. Who else could want Sheen as a friend? Sheen seems to annoy everyone. That kid with the shades kinda admires him? Nah! He was probably just being polite. There's his dad. Awww, who is he kidding? You can't have your own father as a friend! Just then, Sheen heard the door reopen. Carl was back, but now clutching an old llama plush, that's missing an eye.

"If you're truly sorry, then how 'bout apologizing to Lucy the Llama as well?" "C'mon, Carl! That was five years ago!" "Well. I guess you're not sorry at all-" "Wait! I was only kidding! I love Lucy!"

Sheen then seized the plush toy out of Carl's hand.

"Lucy; I'm sorry for ripping your left eye out. My Triclops figurine needed it so badly, and it would've been embarrassing to face off Ultralord with only two eyes."

Then, Sheen planted a kiss on the toy's forehead. Carl was quite astounded. He didn't think Sheen would go that far. Sheen hates Lucy the Llama. As Sheen gave Carl his plush back, the allergy boy embraced his friend into a hug. Sheen returned it by folding his arms around him.

"Apology accepted. But you can't say anything mean about Jimmy no more!" "Promise! Now let's go find that whippy dip head son of a gun together! Sorry, that wasn't suppose to sound mean." "Right on!"

Just as they were about to leave the Wheezer doorstep, Carl picked up as many croissants he could hold. Even though they've been on the dirty ground, Carl didn't mind taking a bite out of them. He thought they were still good. Sheen cringed in disgust. A kid named Creg suddenly rolls by on his skateboard, gets himself into an accident, then breaks his leg.

"Why are so many of these kids breaking their legs?!" Screamed Sheen. "Probably because Nick's not here to do it?" Replied Carl.

.............................

[*At the Neutron household*]

Mrs. Dean finally got Judy to calm down. All she had to do was request her to tell her stories about her son, as many as she wants. She figured she would get Judy to relax with anything Jimmy related. She even managed to get her to drink the tea she made. For the last two hours, Mrs. Dean grew bored listening to Judy's stories all day, about Jimmy's tangled situations. If she listens to any more, she fears she'll also go insane in this mad house.

"So on that Sunday, I was there doing my weekend cleaning. Jimmy was watching his favorite philosophy program. He suddenly got hungry, and asked me, a woman with her hands full at that moment, to fetch him a snack. I said, 'Well, there must be something wrong with your arms if you can't get it yourself.' He then pulled out one of his wacky inventions from under the sofa, a robotic arm of some sort, and attempted to reach for his needed snack. Unfortunately for him, the controls were infirm, resulting in reckless steering. He knocked down potted plants, china, Hugh's duck collection, etc. My perfectly clean house. Then there was this night, that happened two years ago. Mr. Vortex, I know his forename I just don't care, delivered me my son, wrapped in a toilet paper cocoon. His daughter also brought back one of his invention, some cannon that launches TP rolls, and she claimed he used it to foil her slumber party. I can't believe I punished him for it. I never even liked that Cindy. Jimmy sure had the right idea breaking things off with her. What did he even see in that ungrateful witch anyways? Why were they even dating at such a young age?! They're not even in middle school yet!" "There was this other time-" "Hugh, get back down!" "Okay!"

Mrs. Dean was finally put into relieve as Libby ran straight into the house, with news. Carl and Sheen were behind her.

"MRS. NEUTRON! MRS. NEUTRON! Hello, Mrs. Dean. MRS. NEUTRON!" Libby came in screaming. "Not now, Libby. Can't you see the grown ups are talking?" Said Judy. "It's about Jimmy!" "MY JIMMY?!" "And Nick!" "HUH-?!" Mrs. Dean fell off from her seat. "I can't take the credit though! I owe it to these two companions! Especially you, Sheen. *Blows kiss*" "What did we ever do? We see the famous pop star, Rioona, pull up in her limo to cut the ribbon for the new RnB themed cafe. Libby starts getting jumpy, squealing 'OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! IT'S RIOONA! PULLING UP JUST WHEN WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN IMPORTANT INVESTIGATION! I DON'T WANNA LEAVE! I WANNA STAY FOR A MINUTE! MAYBE A FEW HOURS!' And then I said, 'Why not just take a picture? It lasts longer.'" Said Carl. "By just those words alone, that gave me a brain blast of my own! (Oooooooh, I just rhymed) By the way, I've got about 164 shots of Rioona opening the cafe! I even got myself in some of the shots! Look!"

Judy just slapped the phone out of Libby's hand. Everyone was intimidated, except Carl, who was in love with her more. What a woman.

"Just tell me where my baby is!" "Okay... You see, by just the sheer mention of 'picture,' that's when it hit me! I forgot, we all forgot, Jimmy had his security cams activated, and they were still working by the time I revisited the lab! ...which looked like either a tornado hit it or Cindy got her revenge again. I managed to extract the footage onto my hard drive! Look!"

Libby opened up her laptop, then inserted the hard drive. The footage began to play on media player. There was Jimmy and Nick, handcuffed together, trying to find a solution to undo the chain. Nick touched the keyboard, despite Jimmy's warning. The security breach got triggered, weapons engaged, and the two boys ran into a police box, which is supposedly the boy genius's time machine. The machine vanished, and all was history. We searched all around Retroville for nothing?

"So... It was your son's fault that my Jimmy is gone." Said Judy. "What?! I'm pretty sure Nick didn't know about this installed security system! If only Jimmy took the liberty to tell him!" Replied Mrs. Dean. "Oh, so you're saying it is Jimmy's fault?!" "WHO CARES ABOUT WHOSE FAULT IT IS?! We've lost them both and there's possibly no way to get them back. None of us is a secondary Einstein, and it's not like you could purchase a time machine on the web!" "Apparently, yes you can." Said Libby. "What?!" Both mothers.

While Judy and Mrs. Dean were arguing, Libby pulled up Cbae.com on her laptop and searched "time machine." You can surprisingly buy anything off of Cbae. But, just their luck, it costs $500,000,000, plus $100,000 for shipping. No use in trying to search a cheaper deal, because that's the only one available.

"But none of us have that kind of money!" Said Judy. "Maybe if we put together all of our money, we could make it work! *Starts digging into his pockets* I have $16, 42¢, a wrapper from a Chuckles bar, some bobby pins, lint, hey, it's the key to the handcuffs!" Spoke Carl, trying to help. "Oh, like that's gonna help us now!" Whined Sheen. "Calm down, y'all. I know where we can get that money. But, it may involve something we're going to regret." Said Libby. "*Gasp* You don't mean..."

............................

[*Elsewhere, in Eustace Strych's living room*]

"So you want me, formal enemy of Jimmy Neutron, to lend you a total amount of $500,100,000?" Said Eustace. "So none of us is selling our bodies? What a relief!" Sheen blurted. "I think you should stay off the internet for awhile." Libby suggested. "What's the catch?" Eustace continued to question the adults. "You see, it's for a very, very, important cause, young man." Judy answered. "And how important may that be? Hmmmmmm?" "Well-" "My son, Nick, needs an operation! He's broken his legs numerous times, but eventually both of them have ripped out from their sockets! Gruesomely! Blood everywhere! The hospital is charging me that much to reattach his legs back, plus to get him out of his coma! The prices are so high because of the evil greediness of capitalism! They don't even care about children! Please have a heart! He's Jimmy's friend, too!" Mrs. Dean butted in. "Ha-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho, what makes you think I'd even care to support a charity cause for some washed up has-been? Like anybody would care anymore. I don't support any charity cause, for that matter. Giving to the needy means less for me. Besides, me and Neutron don't exactly have the best history together. On second thought, if you want that money so badly, you're gonna have to bring Neutron right here, have him beg to me, and apologize for underestimating my superiority to his genius!" "We can't!" "Why not?" "Because, h-he's trying to invent a new life saving device!" "Well, No Neutron, no money! Guess I'll have to buy myself a third water park!"

The squad then went to the hall to talk.

"What are we gonna do now?" Asked Judy. "Does he know Jimmy is missing?" Also, asked Mrs. Dean. "Frankly, not. But if he ever does, we may never get that money." Replied Libby. "We're not gonna get that cash anyways. How are we gonna bring Jimmy out here?" Carl whined. "WAIT! There was something useful Jimmy actually taught me, a long time ago!" Sheen had an idea.

He then requested Goddard to project a life-like hologram of Jimmy, just like what happened at his tenth birthday party. Judy felt like crying, seeing that the hologram looks exactly like her son. She even wanted to touch it. Sheen then told her to stay focused, and handed her a voice moduling microphone. Goddard ejected a hand sized camera drone and displayed his teleprompter. He then got the hologram to march to Eustace's location. It then met with him in the living room.

"Ah, Neutron! I thought you'd show here eventually. What's wrong? Did that lifesaver of yours turn out to be a failure?" "Yes, indeed. I don't know what could've happen, but maybe I'm not as smart as I used to." "Like you ever were." "You're right. And I'm here to say I am sorry for getting in the way of your plans. I'm sorry for looking through your integrity. You have showed me that it's not about the brains. It's about what you can buy. I am selfish. I'm a loser. I suck and you rule." "The sweet sound of music!" "I'm not worthy of friends and that's probably why Cindy broke up with me for." "Didn't know you two were actually dating. You don't strike me as a boy who has a way with the ladies." "You're absolutely right! Now, will you please, please, lend me the money, so I can help my poor, hurt, dying reject of a friend?" "Well, I suppose you have amused me enough." "*Judy accidentally whispers into the microphone* What a spoiled little brat." "Excuse me?!" "I said I soiled my pants cuz I'm a brat." "Oh. Hurry up and take your money before you start leaking onto my carpet!"

Eustace ordered his butler to fetch the money. He then came back with a huge sack of cash. The hologram wouldn't be able to hold it, so Judy and Mrs. Dean quickly entered the scene to grab the sack.

"Thank you very much, kind sir! *Looks at the hologram* Jimmy, I am both proud and disappointed in you, my son! C'mon, we have a has-been to save!" Said Judy, then they took a run for it.

#Jimmy Neutron #Boy Genius #Nick Dean #Cindy Vortex #Libby Folfax #Carl Wheezer #Sheen Estevez #Season 4 #fanfic #romance #adventure #TVverse #TVEE

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paulhudd · 6 years

Text

Spindlefreck Book Two: Pt Three: Swamp Witch

Gilray Residence, Mount Merrion, Dublin

April 21st 1989: Things were getting unbearable. Niamh felt as if she was losing her mind. Literally.

They were estranged now and Oona was having difficulty accepting the new situation. There was an increase in telepathic intrusions and Ni had to be constantly on her guard; they could come at any time, day or night. Oona was using everything in her power to make her life a misery; from childish name-calling to full-blown cerebral shouting matches, there was no end to it. Ni had given up driving into town when yet another psychic episode forced her to perform an emergency stop on one of the busy, city centre ring-roads, almost causing a pile-up. At her wits end, she took the bus to the central library and researched anything she could find on telepathy and psychic phenomenon. None of it was any help; the things described didn’t come anywhere close to what she was experiencing; it was a futile exercise that only served to antagonise her constant companion: <Why is we here? Why is ‘ee readin’ books?! I ‘ate books! Why isn't we in Top Shop or a shoe shop or somethin’ noice like that?> When Ni tried to reason with her, Oona repeated everything she was thinking in the whiny voice of a defiant 5 year-old. It got so bad that Ni had to get out her old Walkman and play tapes of obscure avant-garde music to drive her away, but she couldn't do that forever. The lack of sleep had affected her appetite and it was wearing her down; she was too tired to exercise; she looked drawn and gaunt. So, before heading over to the Somervilles that Thursday to report for babysitting duties, she broke her promise to herself and called Rossington’s private number:

“Rossington.”

“She’s still in my head. Why? How do I get rid of her?!” she cried, at the end of her tether.

“Good evening to you, too, Miss Fitzgerald, so nice of you to call...” he replied, cool as a cucumber.

“Don’t piss-me-about, James –- she still has 24-hour access and it’s been over a week since I had the last jab!” She had to lower her voice lest Paddy hear her, but she was so furious it took all her strength to keep it down, “I researched the effects of psilocybin hallucinogens and fungal toxins -– they’re more likely to get weaker over time, not stronger! Have you been injecting it into our milk-bottles or something?!”

“Piffle - and I don’t take kindly to that sort of accusation, Miss Fitzgerald,” he said, glibly. “You walked out of an experimental drug treatment at a crucial stage. My advice is return and complete the course you were contracted to take -- if the answer is no -– then you’ll have to live with the consequences --!”

She slammed the phone down and shouted at it, “What good are you anyway?!”

<That’s roight, ‘e’s uselass, ‘e ‘is.>

Ni tore at her hair and stomped both feet, “CHRIST ON A BIKE!!”

08:01pm: Somerville residence, Malahide: “Do fairies get pregnant?”

Ni slid the Bumper Book of Fairy Stories back into the little pine bookcase at the foot of 6 year-old Caitlin’s bed and said, “Cate, as I’ve told you before, your mommy will answer those sorts of questions -- I’m just the storyteller!” She went to lift little 3 year-old Cathy from Cate’s bed, but she rolled into a ball and refused to be withdrawn, “C’mon now Cathy, story’s over, sweetie, back in your cot...”

“Cathy wants to sleep in here with me,” said Cate.

“Is that right Cathy? Would you rather sleep with Cate tonight?”

Looking frightened, Cathy sucked her thumb, pulled the sheets over her face and snuggled close to Cate.

“Is she OK?” asked Ni, concerned, “she looks as if she’s afraid of me?”

“Not you. She’s scared the Wicked Witch from Wizard of Oz will come on her broomstick with her flyin’ monkeys ‘n take her away.”

Ni replied in an upbeat baby-talk voice, “Oh Catheeee, the Wicked Witch of the West was a nice lady called Margaret Hamilton dressed-up ‘n made-up to look like that. She was sitting on a broomstick suspended by wires with a fan blowing on her hair to make it look like she was flying – it’s only a film and she’s only an actor, silleeeee!”

But Caitlin was adamant, “There’re real witches, though – we see ‘em all the time on Perkin’s Road.”

She tried her best not to laugh, “That’s St Brigid’s -– it’s an old people’s home -- those aren't witches, they’re very old ladies! Sure, if they were witches why would the nuns be pushing them round in wheelchairs and fetching them tea-‘n’-biccies? Anyway, if there really were witches –- the sky would be teeming with ‘em –- air traffic control would be a different thing entirely!” she joked, pulling a funny face.

<Aww, ain’t that luvverleeeeeee...? They’s so cute when they’s that age, ain't they...?>

Ni kept smiling, Go away -- this isn’t the time!”

So did I -- it kept you quiet for half an hour!

Cathy whispered in Cate’s ear. Cate passed it on, “Cathy says there’s a light round you.”

The comment made Ni’s blood run cold. She had to get out of there before things got weird, “Look kids, there’s no such thing as witches, they only exist in folklore tales and fairy stories....”

Oona, I won’t tell you again, not in front of the children!!

Ni kissed them goodnight, switched off the lamp and turned on the night-light. Cathy whispered something in Cate’s ear. Cate passed on the message, “Cathy says ‘who’s Oona?’”

Ni fell to her knees in a mock-faint. Oh God... will this hell ever end...

She sat on the bottom stair, rocking back-and-forth, jiggling her leg, rattling her keys, constantly looking at her watch and sighing, 11:11? Where are they? She was playing Trout Mask Replica on the Walkman at a low volume (a definite no-no as far as Oona was concerned: Oi never ‘eard such clattery-blattery bollox!), when someone tapped her on the shoulder -- she jumped a foot into the air and dropped her keys.

Caitlin stood a few steps up, looking troubled and armed with what appeared to be a child-sized tennis-racquet; Cathy was lurking on the landing above, watching through the bars of the baby-gate. Ni pulled out the ear-buds, “What’s the matter? Bad dream, was it, honey?”

Holding the little racquet in front of her as if she was about to swat a fly, Cate explained in shaky voice, “Cathy says she saw a wee girl standin’ at the bottom of the bed.”

“A wee girl?”

“A wee girl with long-shiny-black-hair. But her head is all lumpy and wrong.”

There was something familiar about the description but she couldn’t think about it now. She whispered in Cate’s ear, “Listen honey, there are no such things as ghosts and remember, Cathy’s only 3 -- she thinks Barney the Dinosaur is a real dinosaur!”

“But she doesn’t make up stories. Mommy says we shouldn't tell fibs -– and if it’s true what would you do if she came in here now with a big knife?! You’re only a girl –- <she’d sloice you up like a well-‘ung ‘og!> cried ‘Cate’, pulling a knife from behind her back, jumping down and sticking it into the centre of Ni’s chest, laughing insanely as they tumbled head-over-heels down the last few stairs...

-- Ni awoke-with-a-start on the Somerville’s couch, those last 8 words still ringing in her ears!

Oona you bitch! What did you do that for?!

The voice in her head laughed uproariously.

Nevertheless, there, standing at the end of the couch, was Cate, little tennis-racquet in hand and a fearful look on her face. “Cathy says she saw a wee girl standin’ at the bottom of the bed.”

“A wee girl...?” said Ni, pinching herself to make sure she still wasn't dreaming.

“Aye, a wee girl with long shiny-black hair. And...?”

“... and?” her head is all lumpy and wrong?

Cate whispered instead, “... Cathy wet my bed. My jammies got wet, too.”

Ni wanted to scream.

A few minutes later -- 11 to 11 to be exact -- just as she was putting a fresh sheet on Cate’s bed, incoming headlights lit-up the windows in the hall. Shite! 20 minutes later and they’d never have known! No comment from her talking head, though. Well, at least that’s one thing I don’t have to contend with. In spite of her repeated apologies, it was as bad as she expected. Phil wasn't talking and that was always a bad sign. Pat, heavily pregnant and puffing with exhaustion, put on a strained smile, told her to go home and went about bathing the girls. Ni was mortified. Somerville waited until she’d said her goodbyes and approached her as she was unlocking the car. He had a very serious look on his face. Leaning on the roof, he casually and quietly enquired why his kids were too frightened to go back to bed.

“Phil, the movie scared Cathy, she’s seeing witches everywhere... she just has an amazing imagination. She wanted to sleep beside Cate and I couldn't see the harm... I’m sorry...” Her failure to keep eye-contact and the tremor in her voice made it look like she didn’t really believe what she was saying, and that only made matters worse.

He crossed his arms, shook his head and said, “I love you to pieces Niamh. You’re like one of me own, but you’re scaring me, never mind the weeuns. OK, you looked a bit rough after you came out of SCICI, but I thought you’d’ve come-around by now -- and look-atcha –- ye’re shakin’ like leaf, yer eyes are like two piss-holes in the snow -- yer as pale as a bottle of milk. Are you sure that bastard Rossington wasn't giving you something stronger than magic mushrooms?! - cos I’ve seen junkies livin’ in skips who look better than you!”

Ni bowed her head and burst into tears, “I dunno what to do anymore... I just.... I just can’t get her out of my head... I can’t get her out of my head...” she sobbed, utterly defeated.

Now that he’d unburdened himself and she seemed to be genuinely upset, he felt like a heel for taking the heavy-handed approach. Paddy had mentioned she was smitten with a married woman and he supposed they must've fallen out. He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry for bein’ so tough on you. It’s just where my girls are concerned I get overprotective. Look, don’t drive. I’ll take you... huh?”

As she’d reached up put her arms around his neck, she’d rubbed her crotch against his suggestively; she’d put her tongue in his ear and moaned seductively. Somerville reacted immediately -- he did what he always did when a prozzie tried it on -- he spun her around so that she was facing away from him, grabbed her wrists and bent her over the bonnet of the car -- but instead of cuffing her, he whispered angrily in her ear, “I don’t ever want to see you again.” He pushed her away and walked back to the house, calling out without looking back, “Tell Paddy I’ll see him at the club. Get outta here.” A light went on above. Pat was closing the bedroom curtains, and by the look on her face, she’d seen what had happened. It was as if everything was synchronised to send her over the edge -– she needed to get away!

She was all–thumbs trying to unlock the car. What the fuck is happening to meeeee? What the fuck am I doing? She quickly got in --- the seatbelt wouldn't unwind –- it was caught in the door; she opened the door to release it -- fumbled and dropped the keys on the driveway, then banged her head on the steering wheel trying to pick them up!

The voice in her head laughed uproariously.

Fuck you Oona! Why did you do that?!

Ni slammed her hands against the wheel and yelled “NO!” Then she paused, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, slowly exhaled and regrouped. She started the car, calmly let off the handbrake and deftly manoeuvred around Phil’s Audi. She reversed out onto the street, all the while trying not to think about what she’d done, but as she got into the rhythm of the gear changes and slipped into autopilot, the implications slowly seeped to the front of her mind and she started shaking again. Then, just before reaching the main road, she looked in the rear-view mirror and glimpsed the top of someone’s head in the backseat –-

It was the crackly, androgynous whisper again -- she instantly slammed on the brakes. Trembling like a leaf, she turned slowly and looked over her left shoulder...

There was no one there, of course, nevertheless she parked the car, turned off the engine, got out and sat on the kerb under the unforgiving amber glare of the street-lamps. She let it all out. She wept uncontrollably with her head between her knees, unmindful of who might see her. Luckily, like all suburban roads after 11pm, the area was deserted, and like all suburban areas after 11pm, any unusual behaviour was treated with suspicion. So when a light went on across the street and an old lady, hands on hips, watched from the parlour window, Ni couldn't have cared less. She’d reached her limit.

A minute or two later, Somerville’s Audi drew up. The passenger window wound down and he called out, “C’mon, Twink. I’ll take you home.”

She didn’t look up and let her hair hide her face, “S’OK. I’m OK. I’ll be going in a minute.”

He pulled up behind her little Fiesta, pulled a wad of tissues from the glove box of his car, got out and sat on the kerb beside her. “Pat saw what happened. She thinks I overreacted,” he said, in a kind voice, “I explained the circumstances, and we agreed: you’re not at yourself. You’re actin’ out of character and if anybody deserves a second chance, Ni, it’s you.” He gave her the tissues, “C’mon now, dry yer eyes ‘n I’ll take you home. I’ll get the local patrol to pick up the car and drop it over later.”

After a little coaxing, she eventually agreed and they walked to his car. The old lady was still watching from her parlour window. Somerville waved as he got in. She smiled, waved back and closed the curtains. “One of the many advantages of having a famous face!” he joked.

“It’s because people trust you, Phil. Just like you trusted me, and now I’ve sullied everything...” she sobbed.

“Sullied? See that’s why you always beat me at Scrabble!” He paused, then patted her knee and assured her in a low voice, “Nothin’ will change, Ni. It’ll be like it has always been. It’s forgotten. Let’s never mention it ever again.”

Oh God, Phil, if only that were true...

She’d never felt so ashamed, but Big Phil, ever the diplomat, couldn't let her stew in her own juices. He put on his ‘Thought for the Day’ hat and explained why she should forget it: “... Ni honey, 70 percent of the things we deal with are crimes of passion of one sort or another, spur of the moment madness – like road rage and domestic violence -- it’s all just all ordinary people who just snap. Somethin’ clicks in their heads and for a split second they lose their minds -- they lift a knife or a hammer and it’s all over. I mean, look at the ‘Head in the Microwave Murder’ as their callin’ it now -– those two fellas had been great buddies for 14 years –- inseparable, according to friends. Then one guy does something out-of-order, could be anything –- an insult, an insinuation, an affair, we don’t know yet -– but it sent the other guy over the edge. He sees red, lifts the oul’ Habitat meat cleaver from the counter and -– whump! You should see that poor fella now –- the murderer, not the victim -- he’s on suicide watch under heavy sedation cos he can’t live w’out the fella ‘e killed. And it’s all over the head -- if you’ll excuse the expression -- of something that coulda been sorted-out over tea ‘n’ biccies.”

He leaned over and nudged her, “Sorry, is any of this makin’ sense? I never know what to say in these situations, I tend to ramble...?”

After a sizeable pause she thought it best to clarify, “I love you Phil, but not in a sexual way, you’re like an uncle -- you’re Uncle Phil,” she said, earnestly, “I lost control, and that’s what makes this so awful...” what makes it worse is the fact that I know who’s doing it and I can do nothing to stop her...

Somerville pretended to be slightly insulted, “Well, I don’t know whether I should be glad to hear that or not, but I know what you mean. And truth-be-told, I’d be really concerned for your sanity if you thought of me that way...!”

She shook her head, “I can’t tell you what caused it, but I swear it was an aberration...”

“Aberration!” Somerville bumped his brow with the heel of his palm, “That’s the feckin’ word I was lookin’ for! T’was an ‘aberration’! See you, ye’re a walkin’ thesaurus!”

“Oh, Phil.... I feel as if I’m dangling by my fingertips over a creek full of snapping alligators... I’m this close to jacking it all in, becoming a nun and dedicating my life to missionary work in the jungles of Central America.”

“Have ye thought about Social Work in North Dublin...?”

Somerville didn’t come in, but instead of doing a u-turn and driving back the way they came, he drove on. She had a pretty good idea where he was going, but by this time she was too exhausted, physically and mentally, to care. Paddy welcomed her home and chanced to jest, “I don’t know... lesbianism, psychedelics, nymphomania...? Who is this vampish seductress in our midst?”

“Oh, please, Paddy! Too soon!” Ni took the hankie from the breast pocket of his waistcoat and blew her nose. “How did you know?”

“Pat called. She explained what happened. She thinks it has something to do with you and this married woman,” Paddy said, regretfully, “she doesn’t know about your stay at SCICI or the drugs study, so you don’t have to worry about breaking your NDA.” He frowned and looked toward the door, “And speaking of NDAs, you know who Phil will blame for this, don’t you?”

She put her handbag on the occasional table, looked toward the door and said, “Maybe a little shake-down will shake-him-up...” Then -- out of nowhere -- “Owww!” -- she yelled, as she felt a sharp pain on her cheek -- her head swung to the right, her body swerved to the left -- her flailing arms toppled the crystal vase on the little table by the stairs -- it smashed on the tiles, spilling lupins and water over the floor! Still reeling, she slipped and fell forward -- Paddy caught her before she landed face-first on the shards!

He straightened her up and plonked her on the bottom stair, “What the hell just happened?” Then he noticed something on her cheek, “Where the hell did that come from?” She staggered to the mirror in the hall and looked; there was a scarlet welt across the pale skin of her left cheekbone and it seemed to be getting darker.

Paddy’s face went a pale shade of grey, his ‘tache drooped and his voice faltered, “Ni...... Tell me truthfully, did somebody do this to you?”

“Oh God no –- you saw me when I came in --” she thought twice about finishing the sentence when images of Oona flashed through her mind, “this just... showed up...”

“What do you mean ‘just showed up’?” he asked, exasperated.

“I dunno. It must be an insect bite from when I was sitting outside...?”

“An insect bite? That’s a contusion, my dear...” He turned on the main light and brought her closer to the mirror, “Look, you can see the impression of a wedding-ring on you cheekbone. I’ve seen this particular wound many times, on the same place on many a battered wife.” He sighed, “Dear God, Ni, what fresh hell is this...?”

I am going mad...

5 minutes ago, at the Nevin Residence in Bogmire, Co. Kildare: The door suddenly opened. The bedroom light went on. Startled, Oona wriggled under the duvet and pulled it over her head.

“What’re ye doin’!” Craigy yelled. “I’m sittin’ downstairs watching TV on me own –- again –- and you’re up here sleepin’ as usual!”

A muffled voice said, “Oi’m feelin’ poorly, me ‘ead’s sore an’ oi needs to loy down. Go ‘way.”

Craigy grinned. He turned out the light, took off his trousers and crept up to the bed, “How ‘poorly’ are ye...?” he said, sliding a hand under the duvet and groping her,

She threw off the bedclothes, her face screwed up in a hateful snarl, and squared-up-to-him, “Get ur fuckin’ ‘ands offa me, Craigy Nevin!! I told ‘ee before -– I ain’t in the mood! - and raised her hand to strike him, but before it even began its downward-arc, he caught her wrist and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her sideways -- he caught her by the arm as she fell, roughly pulled her to him and yelled into her ear “Don’t you dare ever lift a hand to me again, right?! Ye wee bitch?” and threw her down. She landed face first on the pillows, her silver hair splashing across the chocolate-brown duvet cover. She curled into a ball to cover her nakedness and began crying.

Craigy stood over her, unrepentant, snorting, hissing through gritted teeth, “Ach, don’t start gurnin’ ‘n playin’ the martyr, now! Ye drive me to such things! Ye’re always up to somethin’! You either come up here and ‘lie down’ or sit on the settee night-after-night like a feckin’ zombie off in a world of yer own! I asked you three times – three times -- to get me a cuppa tea tonight and you grunted somethin’ and I got nuthin’ -– then you go upstairs to take yer face off and you don’t come down again! Well I didn’t get married to sit on me own in a house in this shithole village in the middle of nowhere!!”

Oona snivelled like the child she really was. Her auntie Ella – who most people treated like a man, anyway – was always slapping her around, but that was kids-stuff compared to this. This was delivered with genuine spite. When he grabbed arm, she felt his loathing, she tasted the true bitterness of his words. Her castle was crashing down around her ears; her Prince Charming was an ogre and her Fairy Godmother had all but abandoned her.

It’s all her fault! She’s filled moy ‘ead wiv all these notions ‘n they do nuthin’ but get me in trouble!! Because the main thing she took away from their psychic connection was that No Man Is Better Than a Woman -- and under no circumstances should a man strike a woman. It was a doctrine that went against her upbringing, the Supplicant ethos and hundreds of years of tribal misogyny; it made sense, but this was the Real World not an Ideal World. She has me livin’ in Cloud Cuckoo Land ‘n I swallowed it up whole!!

Oona sat up, wiped the tears away with the heels of her hands and said “A cuppa tea... is that all ‘ee wants? You clobbered me fer a cuppa tea...?”

“That’s the tip of the iceberg!” He began pacing the room as he zipped up, ‘Iceberg’ being the appropriate word!” He kicked the dresser in a fit of frustration, forgot that he was wearing his slippers, and almost broke his toe, “Ahh!!” He hopped around holding his foot, “Now look at what ye’ve made me do, you silly bitch!”

She didn’t giggle or poke fun. She didn’t think it was funny at all. She feigned empathy, got up onto her knees and beckoned him hither with open arms, “You’s all toightly-wound-up, that’s all.” She patted her lap, “Come ‘ere and oi’ll give ‘ee one of moy special massages,” she said, in a sympathetic voice.

He regarded his naked wife, her pale skin glimmering in the moonlight, a beautiful sight marred by the crimson welt rising on her cheekbone. He sat on the bed with his back to her and groaned remorsefully, “Och, Oona... I’ve never hit a woman in me life... not even in the course of me duties...”

Kneading and squeezing, digging her thumbs into his shoulders, she did something she swore to herself she would never do: she read his mind. It wasn't pleasant. She saw a wishful daydream: Craigy packing his bags and moving back to Sligo. She felt the hole in his heart. The loveless sex; the disappointment; the regret. He was looking for a way out, just like Niamh.

“... I’m beginning to think this was a big set-up between your aunt and Marchant to marry-you-off! They virtually pushed me into this,” he suggested, presciently “and if that’s not bad enough, yer aunt’s got a wee network of spies watchin’ everythin’ we do! The other day I caught that auld doll across the lane, Crombie -- lookin’ through our feckin’ bin!”

“Lemme make ‘ee a noice cuppa cocoa ‘n we’ll go to bed,” she whispered in his ear, softly and nicely.

“What are you after?” he asked, suspiciously, looking over his shoulder, “I just hit you -- the next thing I know you’re all massages and cocoa...?”

She came close, looked into his eyes, cupped his cheeks, and spoke in her ‘inside voice’, the one that Ni found so alluring, “I know what’s important now. You’re right, I was off in a world of my own, but you brought me down to earth.”

He fell for it. “Oh, you’re using that voice again... I like it...”

“You stay here and I’ll bring up a little tray and we’ll have supper in bed.” She kissed him on the lips, got up and took the dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door.

“Hmmm... and you’re not gonna stick a few spoonfuls of rat-poison in it?” he asked, half-joking.

She grinned, “Don’t be silly. I’ll be 10 minutes.”

Oona went down to the kitchen and filled her new electric kettle. While it was boiling, she crept to the cupboard under the sink, reached into the back and retrieved the little bottle hidden behind the cleaning stuff. She turned it in her hands, watching the grey liquid inside flow to-and-fro, and contemplated using it. She desperately wanted to use it. If it was anyone else she wouldn't even think about it; or rather, she would think about it. She’d just have to think it and they’d dance to her tune. She could turn them all into puppets with no strings...

The kettle clicked off.

Something told her it wasn't time. Craigy was her husband, after all, he deserved a second chance. Besides, she’d promised to love honour and obey him. It don’t say nothing about killin’ ‘im, though. No, she wanted a baby, that’s all she cared about. As soon as she had a kiddie, she’d sort everything out. She’d show them all.

She put the little bottle back and made the cocoa.

SCICI; 12:38: “Well, then Barry, according to the good doctor here, you can hear me! So, howerya doin’, me auld mate?” Somerville, hands in his trouser pockets, stooped and put his ear to McKee’s cracked, unmoving lips. “What’s that Baz?” He stood up and addressed Rossington, “He thinks you’re scamming us. He thinks you’re a chancer.” He returned to the patient and shouted in his ear as if he was stone deaf, “Do you know he has cameras all around you, Barry?! You’re on more screens than Bruce Willis!” He looked around, “It’s more like a mad scientist’s laboratory than a hospital room!”

Rossington took a Georgian fob watch from his waistcoat pocket and flipped it open with his thumb, “We've enjoyed your little visit Detective Superintendent, but it’s way past Mr McKee’s bedtime, so...”

“You know something, I hate him,” said Somerville, taking one last look at the frail wretch on the bed before turning his attention back to the good doctor, “but I hate you more. He can’t help what he is and whatever he’s done he’s paid a heavy price for it –- because even if he is ‘conscious’, he’ll never have the use of his body again. He’ll still have to piss into a bag and get his dinner through a tube. Then there’s you -- a parasite living offa him. That’s how far down the food-chain you are.”

Matron Stranks, a hatchet faced harridan with terrible teeth, was champing at the bit to let rip -- she’d obviously been told to keep it shut but Big Phil’s attitude was too much to take. With every jibe and slur, her eyes got fierier, her ears got redder and her dentures clacked like arrhythmic maracas. Rossington sent her away before she exploded altogether. As her sneakers squeaked off down the corridor, he humbly apologised, “My staff is very loyal, Mr Somerville, they hate to see me suffer an indignity or injustice...”

“Bollocks. They hate me because I represent The System, not because they’re sweet on you, Jimmy boy.” Somerville chuckled, mordantly, “I had a look at your ‘staff’ file. Most of ‘em have criminal records or extremely dubious résumés; your photo-ID parade looks like a rogue’s gallery. That’s the sorta thing that makes my antenna buzz.”

Rossington sighed heavily to express his ennui and said, “Number one: I have a policy of employing ex-prisoners as part of my Restart Programme; number two: What are you doing here, detective superintendent? You come in here demanding to see Mr McKee at this unholy hour, then go on an undignified, libellous tirade...?”

Somerville walked around the bed and looked him in the eye, “A friend of mine was working for you and ever since they came outta this hell-hole they've been a shadow of their former-selves! I wanna know why!”

“If you are referring to Miss Fitzgerald, she is no longer in our employ. She signed a comprehensive NDA, and we will sue if she breaks it,” Rossington informed him, somewhat smugly.

Somerville exploded, “Fuck that! You listen to me, Jimmy boy: you stay away from Niamh Fitzgerald. I don’t care if she’s got the secrets of the universe tattooed onto the back of her eyelids –- leave her alone or I’ll nail your arse to the wall!”

Rossington smiled, “I’ll be sure to tell the commissioner about this visit when I talk to him later this morning.”

Somerville came closer and whispered, “That’s good, and while yer on the blower with ‘im, tell ‘im a blind-eye will no longer be turned to your little peccadilloes -– i.e. the frequenting of certain clubs to procure under-age persons and supplying said minors with proscribed substances. From now on you will be fair game, old chum, so it’ll be in your best interest to keep your nose -– hahaha -– clean!” He walked away, shouting over his shoulder, “Give the boss my best!”

A few days later, in the Wetlands of Bogmire, Co. Kildare, in the grounds of Pagham House: Clad in scuba gear or hazmat suits and waders, Paddy and his little expeditionary force were meticulously excavating the exact spot Ni had specified via a very detailed sketch. Using a weight-and-pulley system that was as laborious as it was awkward, they toiled undeterred. They knew something big was in the offing and everyone wanted to be the first to find it, not even the foul smell of the slime could deter them. Ni had stayed behind to pick up Emil from the airport; Paddy thought it would be best if they got started a day early before he had time to ask too many questions or raise any objections.

Scanlon the groundskeeper and Sergeant Marchant [Laphen and Gorringe were still in Europe shooting a movie] sat on a low bough a few feet from the bank and watched with binoculars as they ate their elevenses. Holding his waterproof Pentax aloft, Paddy broke away from the others and waded through the mire, put a boot up on the bank, looked up at the spectators and asked, nicely, “Ahem, would either of you men like to take photographs for me? You've got a good view from up there and I have to supervise the last bit of unearthing... Would you mind?”

The men put down their binoculars and stared back with blank expressions. Eventually Scanlon responded officiously, “We were told only to observe. Carry on as if we’re not here. Thank you.”

Paddy sighed at the obvious disdain in the man’s tone and turned away, “OK. Sorry to have bothered you... I’ll just put this on a rock and set the automatic shutter. Careful you don’t knock it down when you dismount. Thank you!”

“Dickhead,” said Scanlon under his breath as he watched the big scientist wade away. He nudged his companion and hissed, “That’s Gilray. Keep an eye on him, too. He’s the uncle of the Fitzgerald girl. She’s due to get here sometime later today, so remember -- keep her away from Oona. That is yer No.1 priority, got it?!”

The sergeant nodded, “For the hundredth time – aye! OK, OK! Jesus, you wanna watch yerself, this sorta stress isn't good for your heart!”

Scanlon watched Paddy convene with the students and grumbled, “...bloody Oona Umbert... You be sure and tell that husband of hers to keep her indoors til this blows over,” he mumbled though a mouthful of sandwich, “... first the Roxboroughs sell the house –- and now -- just when things were settling down nicely, my new lord ‘n’ master decides it’s time to dredge up the past...”

“What could there be down there that would cause you any trouble?” asked Marchant.

“... why would he give them permission to do this?” said Scanlon, angrily, ignoring the sergeant’s question; then his tone took an ominous turn when he said, “Maybe we should ask Dr Jimmy, eh?”

The Sergeant carried on eating and pretended he hadn't heard.

Scanlon pressed on, “Because when I met with him the other night, he seemed to know an awful lot about what’s been goin’ on around here.”

The sergeant reached for another sandwich, “How would I know about that, now...?”

“He pays you to keep him abreast of developments, sergeant, isn't that so?” Scanlon’s face clenched into a scowl.

The sergeant returned the glare with frightened eyes.

“I’ve turned a blind eye to it so far because it might work to my advantage. So you can keep in touch with him, find out what he’s up to and relay it back to me, alright? Or I’ll have you transferred outta here so fast it’ll rip the ‘tache off yer face!”

The sergeant resumed chewing, a look of horror on his face –- then he almost fell off his perch when the big groundskeeper’s walkie-talkie exploded into life.

A garbled, hissy voice screeched: “... ROGER OVER, COME IN COME IN... SCANLON... MR SCANLON YOO-HOO... COME-IN ROGER-ROGER COME IN...” It was Ella Sparkes.

“Bloody woman...” Scanlon unclipped the receiver from his belt and pressed the button, held it well-away from his ear and tried to keep his voice under control, “... I’m here! There’s no need to shout!!”

Silence.

Scanlon’s voice got a little louder, “Press the button when you want to speak! Over.” There was a pause, then he almost dropped the handset when the voice roared: “ - etter get up here, you’ll never guess who just showed up - roger-out-over... click.”

Scanlon’s voice got ever louder, “Who? Over.” Pause. He sighed and pressed his button again, “Press the button!”

Mrs Sparkes was confused: “What? What pullover? Roger...Over?”

“WHO IS IT – OVER?!” Scanlon barked.

Prolonged silence; crackling static.

Scanlon lost it: “Press the fucking button! Over! ... COME IN!” Nothing. He raised the handset above his head as if he was going to throw it – then thought better of it and shook his head, “Feckin’ woman is useless when it comes to electrical appliances. It took us 30 years to get her to use a vacuum cleaner. Well, I suppose I may go and see who tis,” he gave the walkie-talkie to Marchant, Give me or Charlie a shout on this if they find anything.” Scanlon poured the dregs from his cup onto the mulch below, then capped his flask, jumped down and landed with a squelch; he shouted one last command before setting-off, “And remember what I said about Oona -- alright?!”

Marchant bit off another mouthful... and as he chewed, he took a deep breath – and quickly spat it out as an unholy stench filled his nostrils! “Eeeuggh! What the fuck is that?”

There was always a peculiar smell around this place, and over the years they’d become accustomed to it, but this was something else entirely! It was strong enough to stop Scanlon in his tracks. He covered his nose & mouth with his handkerchief, looked back and reiterated the sergeant’s exclamation, “What the fuck is that?!”

The little pulley on the frogmen’s raft was winding up, dredging up mud and slime, unleashing an ungodly stench none of them could stomach. It was so pungent, the students who weren’t gagging and vomiting were falling over each other in their efforts to get away...

A hundred yards or so further down the bank, Oona watched the proceedings from behind an oak tree. The smell didn’t bother her none; she knew how to shut it out. She was more interested in what was coming up. She’d looked in Ni’s mind and this is exactly how she’d imagined it, but she had no interest herself. It’s just an ol’ bog. Who cares what’s in it? Nonetheless, she felt drawn to the place -- she felt this was something she had to see. But why...?

It was that strange voice again. She took the little compact from the pocket of her apron, opened it and stared into the misty glass; <What do you mean?>

<She’ll be your little friend. A constant companion, like Niamh, only she’ll control your... urges.>

She didn’t know how to take this. She didn’t want another voice talking in her brain, especially the voice of a little girl who died years ago. It would be like having a ghost living in her head.

This news put everything else out of her mind -– she knew exactly who he was talking about! <Kris?! Kris is back?! >

She began to run in the direction of the big house, but stopped in her tracks when the voice reminded her, <Ahem, excuse me, but besides the fact that you’re married, they've kept you apart for seven years for a reason –- they’re not going to let you see him now. Not now that you’re a fully grown Silver Siren. You’re too powerful. And by the way, that gash on your cheek makes you look like a battered wife... which, quite frankly, is what you are. I mean, what would he think?>

She looked at her own reflection in the little mirror and touched the welt, <Oi could put some foundation on it, oi s’pose...?>

Her attention was broken by a rustling in the bushes, “Hey there girlie – what are ye up to there?” shouted Sergeant Marchant, staggering through the brush. He wasn't too steady on his feet and he didn’t look too good.

Oona put on her little girl’s voice, “... just takin’ a shortcut to the orchards ‘n oi ‘eard the rumpus ‘n wondered what wuz goin’ on...?”

Marchant was extremely green around the gills and sweating profusely, but tried to continue the conversation, “You’re a bloody liar, the orchards are on the other side of therrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeugh!” and duly threw up.

She tiptoed around him and ran for home to put on some make-up, her ‘good clothes’... and Ni’s big blue ‘ bipperty-bopperty hat’...

Midday, at a pick-up-point in Dublin airport: Watching in the wing-mirror, Ni spotted him coming out through the arrivals door. She pumped the horn, wound down the window and yelled, “Emil!”

She’d almost forgotten how much she fancied him. Salt-and-pepper, well-trimmed beard, greying hair tied in a ponytail, he was certainly showing his age, but no less handsome; more so, actually. With his customary well-worn khakis and cargo shorts, tatty lumberjack shirt over a faded Allman Brothers tee-shirt, he always reminded her of a scruffy medico from the MASH movie. She touched the welt on her cheek and frowned. It was going to be hell trying to keep it from him.

He waved back and trotted across the busy concourse toward the car, threw his backpack onto the backseat and climbed in, “Nice to see you, Li’l Twinkie!” He tried to kiss her cheek -– she felt the fronds of his whiskers brush her skin -- but she kept her head turned and kept watching the traffic in her wing-mirror. He was a little surprised by her lack of reciprocation, but unconcerned, “I was expecting Paddy in one of his vintage saloons with a roomy interior – good job I’m travelling light...” Before he had time to say anything else, Ni took off -– they bounced over the zebra-crossing speed-bump (Emil’s head hit the sunroof several times) -- she sped around a busy roundabout with scant regard for road safety and sliced across 3 lanes of traffic on her way to the exit ramp whilst a cacophony of angry horns blared behind them. The manoeuvre had Emil clutching the dashboard for dear life, “Jeeeeeeezusssss Niamh!”

“I’m too afraid to take one of Paddy’s old cars. If I was to get a scratch on one of them, he’d have a conniption,” she said, indifferently, zipping through a steady amber and taking a sharp right. Also, I have to get this over with before the madwoman in my head starts her shenanigans again.

As the car swung onto the centre lane of the motorway, Emil slid the seat back as far as it would go and attached his safety belt, his big brown knees pressed against the glove-box. Eventually, he felt it safe enough to make with the smalltalk (he still hadn't looked at her, he couldn't take his eyes off the road – which was just how she wanted it), “I nearly didn’t make it –- Fran was on the warpath -– she’d told friends we’d go jet-skiing in Maine this weekend. We had to cancel, so I had to do the whole ‘it’s a tradition with my best friend’ routine... But her mother has been poisoning the well again, telling her that I do nothing for her, and so I get it in the neck every time I wanna do something for Me...” and off he went on one of his maudlin diatribes about the injustices of having an angel for a wife and the Mother-In-Law From Hell™, but, hey, maybe that’s why he married Fran in the first place, because opposites attract... she represents everything he resists: conformity... button-down, middle class life... conventions of society... blah, blah, blah... as was his wont when he’d had a few. She didn’t mind; she loved the sound of his voice.

<‘E’s a borin’ twot, ain’t ‘e?>

Go away! I’m driving!

He’s had a few on the plane -– now go away! You’ll get us killed!

But it was worse than usual. Every jibe was delivered in the spiteful tone of an immature jilted lover. Ni immediately pushed a tape of Neu! into the cassette player, “Sorry Emil, I need to listen to this. I find it helps me concentrate,” she explained in a strained voice, as the atonal buzzsaw-guitar of Negativland blasted out of the Fiesta’s little speakers. Emil was too ‘cool’ and tipsy to object, although judging by the uncomprehending frown and exaggerated grimace, he didn’t like it (he was more of a Dylan/Beatles/Hendrix fan), so she turned it down.

Oona was irritated but too intent on causing trouble to be deterred, <‘e’s quoite dishy, in ‘e? You think so anyway. I ‘ad a look in ur fantasies ‘n ‘is name is top of the list, you dirty gurl! >

Ni gritted her teeth, her knuckles white on the wheel, Oona, this isn't the time or the place, I’m on a busy motorway -- we’ll talk later -- go and do some chores!

But Oona wouldn't let it go, <‘e still hasn’t even looked at you yet!! ‘E’s witterin’ on ‘bout ‘is bloody woife ‘n there’s you -- this doyno-moite blonde -- sittin’ roight besoide ‘im! Wot’s ‘is problem, then?!>

He’s a 53 year old married man, Oona. He has no interest in me...

As the psychic dialogue escalated to a full-blown telepathic brawl, the speedometer climbed to 73mph.

Oh – and how’s your knight in shining armour?! Been smacking you around has he? Please warn me when he decides to knock you about again and I’ll be sure to keep a first aid kit handy!

That shut her up, which was a good thing since Emil had reached the end of his list of grievances, “... well, that’s my trials and tribs out of the way -– how is Paddy? How come he’s already at the site? He usually rings the night before I leave, but not a word. I called his service and left a message, but as of yet, no reply. What gives, Twinkie?”

Ni un-gritted her teeth and tried to sound chirpy, “Erm, Paddy didn’t know what equipment you might need so he went down a day early to do a recce with some of the students...”

He was very surprised, “Really? What’s with all the mystery? Where is the dig?”

“All will be revealed once we get there,” she said, without ceremony.

“You don’t seem so excited,” he said, still confused.

She sidetracked him, “Look, Emil, I have to call at the house -– I forgot my wetsuit. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes...?” This was true, but it was also the ideal opportunity to get him to drive the rest of the way.

She was aware of him shifting in his seat and looking at her. She turned her head away slightly so that the welt on her cheek was well hidden. “I must say, you’re looking well.” She heard the gratified surprise in his voice. She felt his eyes appraising her.

Oona tittered, <’ere we go...>

Get lost! She glanced sideways and said, “Well, I don’t look so good day, I’m knackered. Up all night with a... headache.”

Emil continued to pile on the compliments, “No, I mean, you look so... what’s right term? Blooming? All grown up. You’re usually hidden under an oversized sweater and baggy pants!”

<See, I tol’ ‘ee them jeans look good on ‘ee!>

Yes, thank you. “Och, don’t tease me, Emil, please, you’re gonna.... make me...”

“I’m not teasing! You look great!”

She suddenly felt very light-headed. The world was awhirl... the road ahead became a starlit blur

and just before the darkness descended, she happened to glance in the rear-view-mirror and once again saw a someone sitting in the back behind her. A figure dressed in a black motorcycle jacket with long, jet black, straggly hair hanging down over its face so that only its mouth and lower jaw were visible, but the cleft in the chin, the clean-shaven, alabaster skin were unmistakeable, it was a youthful, fully functional Barry McKee...

or was it?

The inside of the car brightened and everything went white

isn’t it a little girl?

12 or 13, long black hair...

That smell,

it was overwhelming, like every bad smell you could think of rolled into one nauseating miasma, filling her nostrils, filling her lungs, filling her mouth

she couldn't breathe.

Panicking, thrashing, gasping for air

sleep came down

her hands let go of the wheel and fell limp at her sides, her head lolled onto her shoulder and thudded against the driver side window.

“NIAMH!” Emil immediately unclipped his belt and lurched for the wheel -– simultaneously, he slowly raised the handbrake -- the Fiesta veered onto the hard-shoulder and skidded on the gravel, spun around three times before settling in a circle of tyre tracks shrouded by a terracotta-tinted dust-cloud -- half-in-half-out of the inside lane! A deafening horn blasted and a huge freight truck missed them by inches! He shouldered the car back onto the shoulder, then ran around to Ni’s side and opened the door...

Back at Paddy’s kitchen:

She’d begged him not to take her to hospital and told him she desperately needed some sleep. It was obvious that she was mentally and physically spent, so Emil reluctantly capitulated but insisted that he drive the rest of the way. Luckily, during the melee he hadn't noticed the mark on her cheek, so she kept her face covered with her hair until they got back to Paddy’s. They went to the kitchen and Emil checked her vitals and everything appeared to be sound, “You’re a very lucky girl. I don’t know what might’ve happened if I hadn't been there.”

“Oh, stop Emil, it doesn’t bear thinking about,” she said, groaning, sitting down at the table and thinking about it.

There was some beer left over from Gourmet Night, so he cracked-open a bottle and took a long slug and delivered his diagnosis: “Your blood sugar level has crashed and you need sleep. I prescribe a Labatt Club Sandwich with plenty of straight Coke!” he cracked open a can, put it in front of her and began buttering bread.

She answered absentmindedly, still contemplating what might have been, “I skipped breakfast... I overslept... the last week has been a nightmare. Literally.”

“Burning the candle at both ends, are ya?” He flashed that dashing, devilish grin of his and winked, “Sex? Drugs? All night raves?!”

“No, I’ve been working at SCICI: St Cedric’s Institute for the Criminally Insane. I was an intern, but I... I volunteered to do a drugs test. It didn’t agree with me. I’m still recovering, really.”

“What sort of drug was it?” he asked, opening a pickle jar and popping one in his mouth.

“Fuck off, you sick bitch...!” Ni hissed, aloud.

Emil stopped chewing, “Sorry...?”

Shit! Think of something -- answer the question!! “Umm... Sorry, I can’t talk about it, had to sign an NDA.”

“NDA? Is that right?” He took another slug of beer to wash down the pickle, stopped for a minute, then asked with an inquisitive frown, “SCICI? I’ve heard of that place. They take in psychos from all around the world and study them, don’t they? Does it have something to do with the treatment of psychopaths or...?”

“Please, don’t ask Emil, it’s ultra-top-secret...”

“’Ultra-top-secret’ is it?” he reiterated, sardonically. He looked at her, “Whatever it is, it suits you, but in a... strange way. You look different. Older. Paler. Your eyes look darker, your hair looks blonder... you look very...nice...” he stroked her hair.

Get lost!

“What the... where the hell did you get this?” He’d finally seen the weal on her cheek! Shit. “It was an accident...” she said, weakly.

He put his hand under chin, raised her head and examined it closely, “Don’t bullshit me, Ni. This is a classic contusion associated with domestic violence –- commonly known as a backhander. In fact, I can see the impression of a wedding ring. Has Paddy seen this?”

“Yes. He was there when I got it,” she said, getting up, too tired to think of an excuse.

“He was there?!” he said, shaking his head in astonishment.

“Look, Emil, I’ll explain later, I’m absolutely shattered,” she sighed, “I’m going to bed for a couple of hours.”

He looked her in the eye, his voice half-angry-half-troubled, “Somebody’s been knocking you around, haven’t they? And a married man of all things?!”

“Emil, I really need to sleep...?”

He backed up, “I get it. I get it. None of my business,” he said, putting his hands up in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. He picked up the sandwich from the counter, plonked two straws in the can of Coke and gave them to her, “Go on -– eat, sleep -- I’ll chill-out with a beer or two and sleep off the jet-lag in front of the TV. Set your alarm for 5pm,” he said, waving her away.

She went upstairs, ate the sandwich, got undressed and got into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow

<He’ll come to ur room wake ‘ee up ‘n do ‘ee.... >

Shit, shit, shit! The Walkman was in her case in the car, there was no way of shutting her out!

C’mon Oona, enough is enough, I’m totally drained. You of all people must know that. I’ll be down there soon; we’ll talk about it face-to-face --

<’Ee just wanna do ‘im while oi’m gone! Oi wanna watch ’ee for a change!> There was a heavy hint of jealousy in her tone. This wasn't going to end soon.

Ni put a pillow over her face and screamed a muffled scream. Then she sprung up, pulled on her dressing gown and marched across the landing to the phone by Paddy’s bed.

She sat on the bed, put the phone on her lap and stabbed the number into the key pad.

“Rossington.”

“It’s Niamh.”

“Oh. I thought you were off dredging the swamp.”

“She’s out of control and I’m at my wit’s end.” She explained the situation quickly while Oona chimed along with every word, “She’s at it as-we-speak! She’s fucking driving me insane! Tell me what to do -- I’ll do anything!”

He heaved a world-weary sigh, “Did you show her the door?”

“The door is permanently open and I can’t close it!! She’s too powerful now. I almost died on the motorway today! Not only that, but I’m starting to experience physical phenomenon! I’ve got a welt on my face from where her husband hit her!”

Rossington seemed genuinely interested, “Really? That’s a new one. Must make a note of that...”

“Fuck you, James! I’m serious!”

“Have you been talking about the project? Your friend Detective Superintendent Somerville came to see me. He threatened me because he thinks I’ve been, in his words, ‘screwing you up’?”

“Oona was plaguing me when I was babysitting his kids –- they picked up on it somehow, and it frightened the life out of them. He knows about the drug test, but not the details, he blames you for my.......?”

The hand holding the receiver dropped to her side. Silence. She listened to her thoughts. The chiming had ceased. No fuzziness. No tinnitus-like ringing in her ears. No incongruous mirages suddenly flashing through her mind. No bridge of clouds, no beach, no door, opened or closed. She felt unburdened. Her mind was her own.

Oona was gone.

“Niamh?.............. Miss Fitzgerald .......?”

“Niamh?”

“Niamh...?”

Emil was standing at the door, “Ni? I heard shouting. I thought you were in distress...”

“Niamh, are you there...?”

She put the receiver back to her ear, “It’s OK, James, everything’s OK. See you soon.” She rang-off and stared into space, listening to her thoughts.

Emil, hands in his pockets, loitering in the doorway, stared daggers at the phone, “’James?’ Is that the guy responsible for the gash on your cheek?” he growled.

In a way, yes. “No. He was my boss at the institute, and he’s gay.”

She looked at him. All her old fantasies about him replayed in her psyche, only this time no one was watching.

Emil was looking through his fingers, “Twinkie, um, adjust your robe, babe, I’m getting quite an eyeful here ....”

She didn’t adjust her robe. She gave him more of an eyeful when she walked to the window and pulled the curtains, took off the gown, slipped into Paddy’s big four-poster and pulled back the sheets invitingly. “Please. I need this and it has to be now.”

Wide-eyed and opened mouthed, he visibly baulked as he took it in, “What?! NO!”

She pointed out the burgeoning lump in his shorts, “I know you want to and I want to too.”

He was contemplating it. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. Then he looked at her again and had a change of heart. He stood up, shook his head and refused to give in to his baser nature, “No. It would ruin a beautiful friendship.”

“One time offer,” she said, in all seriousness, “I’ll never feel this way again, and we will never ever mention it again. It’ll be like it never happened. Just switch off for half-an-hour, enjoy the ride, then we’ll sleep-it-off in separate beds.”

She knew the resulting pause for reflection and overt inner-conflict was all for show: a respectful pause before he did what he really wanted to do. Finally, he said, “This is madness” and tore off his shirt, revealing his trim, hairy body; he opened his belt, unbuttoned his shorts and jumped in before she changed her mind...

Afternoon delight my arse.

It had been one of the most horrifying experiences of her life – clothes on or off. It wasn't that he was bad at it or inattentive, it was the fact that during the intercourse, she found herself unwittingly locked into his psyche: as soon as he penetrated her body, she found herself penetrating his mind. To her amazement, she could read his thoughts, and it wasn't a pleasant experience, not at all. It became clear that he regarded young women as little more than talking dolls -– and with each buck of his hips, a succession of previous conquests, usually his students, mimicked her grimaces; blondes, redheads, skinny girls, chubby girls, girls with glasses in various states of undress, flashed before her eyes. But the creepy thing was they all had Niamh’s mother’s face! He was in love with her mother! That made it even worse! She stopped groaning and writhing, looked up at his reddened, straining face, and waited for him to finish. He was too wrapped-up in his own trip to notice her inertia. When he was done, she stayed for a few minutes as a courtesy and listened to his apologies for succumbing to a moment of madness, the inner-monologue forever contradicting the words coming out of his mouth. Once the clichés were done with, he fell asleep inside three minutes. She hadn't uttered a word for the entire twelve and a half.

He was right about one thing, though: It had ruined a beautiful friendship.

She had a hot shower and let the water run through her hair, wishing it would seep through her scalp into her brain and wash away the memory of what just happened. And as she rinsed the suds from her eyes, another swirl of dizziness swept over her –- her knees buckled –- she stumbled backwards into the wall and slid down the tiles until she was sitting on the floor. She wiped the soap out her eyes, and as they focused, she gazed through the frosted glass of the cubicle door and saw a dark shadow against the stark whiteness of the bathroom; it appeared to be standing on the mat by the bath. “Emil...?” she muttered, even though she knew it couldn't possibly be him. Putting one arm across her breasts and the other across her lap, she crawled closer to the glass, wiped it clear and looked out, “Who’s that...?” She reached up and slowly slid the door back...

It wasn't in the room; it was a reflection in the mirrored tiles of the wall along the bath. The glass was steamed up, the little figure was a blur, however, it was plainly a little girl with long black hair, dressed in a filthy nightdress standing straight-backed with her head bowed, her hands folded in front of her, as if getting a dressing-down from the headmistress: Is this the girl that little Cathy Somerville saw...?

“Who are you...?” she said softly, as she stepped out, snatched a towel from the rack, wrapped it around her and slowly approached. The closer she got, so the little figure got much taller and more masculine until it grew to the size of a fully grown man, only the long black tresses remained. She recoiled and lifted the only available weapon to hand: the loo-brush; she brandished it in her shaky hands; when it became clear the creature wasn't going to speak, she asked in a tremulous whisper, “... are you Barry McKee...? Or are you the demon that possesses him...? Or am I suffering from a new form of schizophrenia...?”

The crackly voice resounded between her ears: <I’m here to give you peace of mind.>

8 minutes later, she was pulling the sheets off the bed and informing the former man of her dreams, “C’mon, get up and get dressed. I wanna get down there before dark.”

Emil sat up and watched her tidy-up around him, a look of disbelief on his face, spouting superlatives like a besotted teenager, “What a trip that was. I haveta tell ya, and I’m being honest, that was the most amazing thing... It felt as if we were locked together -- body ‘n soul -- it was like we were flying! It was like: Woah!”

She ignored him, “Please get up, I have to strip the bed and change it.”

He staggered to his feet and pulled on his shorts, “Didn't you feel it? It was like we were sharing a dream... Awesome!” He continued in this vein for a while until it became clear she wasn't similarly impressed. He watched her with narrowed eyes, as if sizing her up. “You've changed, you know that?” he said at last.

“I always change after a shower,” she said, impassively.

As she locked up the house and they made their way to her car, it was introspection time again. Gone was the cock-sure, intelligent adventurer with a witty quip for every occasion, instead, he trudged along behind her, moping, grumbling in a self-pitying groan about how big a deal it was and how much trouble he’d be in if anyone found out. “Your mother will kill me! My wife will divorce me! Oh God -- and we did it in Paddy’s bed! I won’t be able to look him in the eye ever again...”

She spun on her heel, “Shut the f --” she began to shout, before remembering it was the weekend and the neighbours were likely to hear, and lowering her voice to an angry whisper, “it’s forgotten. Didn't happen, remember? Speak of it no more, please!”

They exchanged suspicious looks then got into the car. She adjusted the seat and tried to put the keys in the ignition, but her hands were too shaky, her head was too fuzzy, and in spite of the mystery voice’s assurances, she couldn't be sure Oona would make a comeback, “Can’t drive, still a bit groggy. You’ll have to do it.” She bounced over into the passenger seat, pulled up the hood of her hoodie and assumed a foetal-position turned away on her side, looking out of the window so she didn’t have to look at him. She felt him get in, readjust the seat and try to get comfortable. He had difficulty getting it started, “Fucking piece of shit car,” he yapped, as the engine spluttered twice then stalled, “It’s like a goddamn downhill-racer!!” He pounded the steering wheel with his fists. The car rocked and boomed. She didn’t lose her temper or shout him out, instead, without turning toward him, she told him exactly what he was thinking, “...’she’s over eighteen’ ‘it was her who invited me in’ ‘I’d been drinking on the plane’ ‘no man could refuse an offer like that’ ‘What if she spills the beans?’ ‘Oh my God, what if she gets pregnant?’...” she iterated, dispassionately.

She was numb to it all. She just accepted the gift of telepathy as the latest in a series of incredible events set in motion when she first visited Bogmire and met Oona Umbert. It was getting boring now.

Emil was dumbfounded, “How do you do that? It’s like you’re reading my mind! Jeezus – you are just like --”

She turned, dug her elbow into his ribs and marked his card, “Now you listen to me, mister -– I am not my mother. This has nothing to do with her. I wasn't using you to settle a score or get one over on her. But I did use you. I was horny. It could've been anyone. You were the nearest thing with a pulse. Does that make you feel better?! Don’t get hung-up-on-it -– just drive!”

He gaped at her with uncomprehending eyes and said without irony, “I think I might be in love with you...”

Meanwhile, in the grounds of Pagham house: Wearing her nicest summer frock and her best shoes, one hand holding onto Ni’s big floppy blue hat to stop it from blowing off in the strong breeze, the other clutching her silvery clutch-bag, Oona crept along the path that led from the edge of the woods to the rear of the house. She planned to enter via the old disused servants’ door, she could get to the kitchens from there and sneak through to the main house. She got as far the old courtyard where the moss-covered graves of the 8th Dukes’ wife & child lay, when Charlie Noble, the bespectacled, beer-gutted head of security, pulled up and blocked her path with his jeep. “Where do you think you’re goin’, Mrs Nevin?” he enquired, in his dense North Antrim accent. He got out and walked toward her. She tried to run around him, but despite his size, he was quite agile –- he turned and deftly caught her by the arm, “Hey, hey, hey – where’s the fire, now?”

“Kris is ‘ere! Oi know ‘e’s ‘ere - oi can sense ‘im!”

“Well now, you can’t see Kris, Oona, he’s talkin’ to Mr Scanlon.”

“So ‘e is ‘ere!” she cried, excitedly, jumping up and down.

“You can’t see him! C’mon now, I’m takin’ you home!” he said, pulling her toward the jeep.

“That will not be necessary!” She replied in her poshest voice, as she squirmed out of his grasp and made to walk back the way she came, “Oi’d rather walk –-” she said, took a few steps then suddenly veered to the left towards the path that led to the front of the house –- the manoeuvre caught him off-guard -- he slipped on the mossy cobbles and fell on his arse, “Bollocks!” She bolted, “KRIS!!” she yelled repeatedly as she ran along the path “KRIS!!” Unfortunately her new shoes weren’t built for speed and it wasn't long before Charlie caught up with her and grabbed her from behind. He tried to reason with her as she struggled in his arms, “Now c’mon! Home with ye!!” He took the walkie-talkie from his shoulder and waved it in front of her face, “I’ll call yer auntie, I will! I’ll tell her ye’re out here tryin’ to get in!” She tore away from his grasp, spun on her heel and headed back down the path, “I can go home on me own!” she said, haughtily as she walked off into the trees.

He thought for a moment then walked after her, “Oona! Waitaminnit! Please listen to me!”

His voice sounded sympathetic so she stopped.

Charlie walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, “Don’t come lookin’ for young Kris, Oona. Ye’re playin’ into ol’ Scanlon’s hands, darlin’. Nuthin’ would please him better than if you wuz to do somethin’ stupid.”

She shrugged off his hands, turned and shouted, “Why would oi do somethin’ stoopid?! Why won’t they let me see ‘im now we is all growed up?! We’s ol’ friends for ‘eaven’s sake!”

“You know why, Oona, you’re not like other girls, you’re... special,” he explained, pointing to his head, “and we haveta be extra careful where Kris is concerned, he’s the boss’ favourite grandchild, he can’t come to any harm.”

“But I don’t wanna hurt ‘im -- I luv ‘im!” she cried, tearfully.

“That’s what they’re worried about,” said Charlie, dolefully.

She gripped the hem of skirt, fell to her knees and screamed in frustration at the top of her voice -– the trees around them shook -- an ivy-covered branch snapped loose from the upper boughs of a dead chestnut tree and crashed to the ground, missing Charlie by inches! He backed up, scared out of his wits. “How the hell did you do that?!”

She was just as shocked. Something had snapped in her head -- there was a terrible rushing in her ears -- she saw fireworks exploding in front of her eyes -- it felt like her bones had turned to jelly! She toppled onto her side, eyes wide open, twitching and drooling...

Suddenly, just as they were driving along the dirt track that led to woods, a wave of nausea surged in Ni’s tummy, “Pull over -- gonna be sick!”

As soon as Emil slammed on the brakes -- she threw open the door and threw-up the sandwiches he made her earlier that day. He got out and shouted across the roof, “You OK...? Want me to hold your hair or something...”

She spat out the last of the chunks and shouted over her shoulder, “No! Go on ahead... it’s just round the corner, I’ll walk... need to get some fresh air...” Not that the air here could be described as fresh. “OK, then. See you at the bog!” He said, giving her a glum look before driving off.

What’s happening now? She took a few minutes to recover and wipe her mouth with a tissue, when a jeep came hurtling down the dirt track, and as she stood back to let it pass, she glanced inside -- and saw a familiar face propped up against the passenger side window -- Oona! -- for a split second she looked straight at Ni, or to be more precise, she looked through her. She was like a beautiful zombie, her deathly pallor and deathly stare making it impossible to tell if she was dead or alive. Ni ran after them shouting “STOP!”, but the driver was in too much of a hurry to hear her. She stopped running, buckled in two and threw up again. When she eventually stood up, she espied a diminutive figure standing in the long grass that bordered the woods.

It was the same little girl she’d glimpsed in the bathroom. The same little girl the Somerville girls described: long, shiny-black hair, but at this distance it was hard to make out her features. “Hello... Are you lost?” Ni called out, as she climbed over the wall and slowly approached, “Are you a local, honey? Do you live in Bogmire...?”

The little girl turned, ran into the trees and disappeared from view – “Come back!” shouted Ni, running after her, until she got to the edge of the wood and had to stop to throw up again...

In the east wing of Pagham house: The old infirmary hadn't been in use since the late 1950s, when Laphen bought the house. It had been originally intended as a hospital for the Redmen, but since they rarely got ill or endured an injury that required medical assistance and a sick-bed, it had been left to gather dust. But this was an unprecedented occasion, so they called on the services of a doctor.

Ella Sparkes opened the windows and shutters to allow rays of late afternoon sunshine to flood the room, turning the yellowing net-curtains into shimmering golden clouds, and unsettling a dust cloud that made the attendees cough and splutter. They composed themselves, gathered around the gurney and looked down at the patient.

[it was so bright Oona thought she was in Heaven looking up at the face of St Peter and the angels]

“Her eyes are open. That’s odd,” said Dr Morgan, an 83 year old GP originally from Anglesey who’d retired to a cottage in Carlow in the late-70s. Affable and slightly detached, Morgan ministered to the villagers’ medical needs, kept them stocked with painkillers and penicillin and dealt with any emergencies, such as the one in hand. He was partial to a pot of poteen, hence no stranger to blackouts himself, but this was a new one on him, “Are you sure she hasn’t been using drugs or alcohol?” he asked, in his melodious Welsh accent.

“No. Drugs is forbidden by our religion, and ‘er ‘usband’s a gard, so I very much doubt it,” replied Mrs Sparkes. Her eyes narrowed – she looked at the trio of men around the foot of the bed, “Unless theseuns know any different?”

The Dr Morgan looked to the men.

They shook their heads, “As far as we know she’s clean,” vouchsafed Scanlon.

“... No history of epilepsy, fits, sleepwalking or anything like that?” asked the doctor.

The old woman chewed her cheek and looked and looked at Scanlon, “Lemme think, now...”

Scanlon glowered.

She lowered her head, “No, but, umm... but she ‘as a lot goin’ on in her ‘ead all the toime.” She looked Oona and asked in all sincerity, “Could she‘d’ve blew a fuse or somethin’?”

Charlie chuckled.

Dr Morgan smiled and said, kindly, “Well, we’ll just have to have a look and see, won’t we.”

It was getting too much for the sergeant; he loosened his tie and mopped his brow with a sopping cotton handkerchief, “It’s so friggin’ hot in here... even with them windows open... Jeeesus, I can’t get a breath, and I’ve still got that stench from the bog in me nosterls...” he smelled the sleeves of his shirt “I think it’s got into me clothes. Ugh!”

“Ack, catch a grip, ye big girl’s blouse,” grunted Scanlon, “you’ve been livin’ with that stench for years, you must be used to it by now.”

“I never smelt anythin’ like the reek that came from that excavation. That was strong enough to make a skunk run for cover!” Marchant said, a little too loudly.

Scanlon nudged him, “Ssshhh -- the auld doctor is talkin’!”

Examining her unblinking, dazzling grey eyes, Dr Morgan asked Charlie, “And you say she just dropped and started twitching?”

Charlie lit up a cigarette and explained, “Aye -- she lost her temper, see, and let-out this almighty shriek like you wouldn't believe --”

Everyone but the doctor nodded and said in unison, “heard it.”

“-- and the next thing I know is the trees start shakin’ and (he pointed up) –- this bloody huge branch falls down and misses me (he made a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger) by that much!! Bleedin’ miracle I wasn't cleaved-in-half!” He shook his head, took a long drag and blew it out, sending spiralling clouds of bluish smoke into the shafts of sunshine.

“She can do that...?” the sergeant gasped.

Charlie shrugged, “Nobody knows what she can do, least of all her.”

Scanlon arched an eyebrow, narrowed an eye and nodded toward the door, “Ahem, maybe you should smoke that out in the corridor, Charlie?”

“With pleasure,” said Charlie, sneering, but just as he went to walk away, “Excuse me -- but when did she get this?” asked the doctor, pointedly, turning Oona’s head to the side. Charlie stopped in his tracks, “What?” The doctor pulled back her hair to reveal the purplish weal on her cheek.

“Looks like somebody’s hit her a quare slap,” the sergeant said, looking at the doughty security man.

Charlie protested his innocence, “Hey, hey, hey, now, now! I wouldn't hit a woman –- and look -– it’s not fresh!”

“That’s true,” said Dr Morgan, “it’s at least a day old.”

“Nevin’s been hitting her!” said Scanlon, almost smiling; he had a distraction and exploited it immediately, “Is it any wonder she’s fainting? She’s probably got a concussion, poor girl.”

Marchant covered his eyes in shame, “Ah, Jaysus, no...”

“It don’t surprise me none. If oi’m honest, oi can ‘ardly blame ‘im,” said Mrs Sparkes, with a dispassionate what-can-you-do shrug of the shoulders, “she’s as thick as shit ‘n she can’t cook. It’s enough to drive anybody round the twist.”

Scanlon glared at Marchant and said, “Where is that big shithead now?”

Slowly losing the will to live, the sergeant stepped back, took off his cap and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “I left him ’n his partner to keep an eye on things down at the bog...” The pang of regret quickly turned to rage, “I’ll feckin’ kill the fecker!”

“AHEM!” Dr Morgan cleared his throat to take back the room, “A slap wouldn't cause a condition the like of this. I’d say this is a psychological rather than a physiological condition.” He turned to Mrs Sparkes, “In other words, something has upset her to such an extent that she’s put herself in a trance.”

Scanlon stooped and studied Oona’s glassy-eyes, “Pretendin’ is she...?”

Outraged, Ella Sparkes put her hands on her hips and shouted, “C’mon, get up ye lazy bitch!”

The doctor winced and put out his hands to quiet her down and put her right, “No, no – she’s had some-sort-of an episode. It could be stress-related. She’ll have to see a psychiatrist, and if there’s no joy there, we’ll have to send her for an MRI scan.”

Mrs Sparkes’ ears pricked up under her ginger wig; she didn’t trust modern technology and interjected every time she heard something she didn’t understand, “Emmer Eye-Scan? What’s that?”

While the doctor explained the rudiments of magnetic-resonance imaging, Scanlon grabbed the sergeant by the lapels and dragged him into the corridor, “Get that bastard Nevin up here ASAP! I want that string-o’-piss to take her home ‘n keep her there. She’s his responsibility!”

Marchant had a perturbing thought, “But what about ‘Is Nibs? What about Herbie?! Should I phone ‘em...?”

Scanlon tightened his grip, pulled him close and whisper-shouted into his face, “The old man ‘n Herbie must NEVER find out about this or we’ll all suffer!” There was a gentle hubbub coming from the room. He shoved the sergeant away and told him to get on with it, then smiled broadly, went back in and clapped his hands, “Is that us? Are we done?”

Dr Morgan wasn't happy, “Look here, I’ll have to report this. If her husband’s been knocking her around -- a policeman, by God -- it’s my duty to inform the relevant authority.”

“Doctor, you know the Supplicants are protected by the laws on religious tolerance and are entitled to practise their own form of worship,” the groundskeeper reminded him in his most gracious tone of voice, “and they have different laws, different customs. If they want to treat her with toadstool-juice and frog stew, they’re perfectly within their legal rights to do so -– as long as it doesn’t endanger life -- and as you can see, aside from a wee turn, she’s perfectly healthy!” He turned, winked and whispered in the doctor’s ear, “Leave it with me – I’ll see that she gets what she needs...” and slipped him an extra £20. As Charlie escorted him off the premises, Scanlon took Mrs Sparkes to one side and had a quiet word.

“She’s dangerous now, Ella. What Charlie says is true. I saw the branch myself – it was ripped from a dead tree alright – the join was splintered and ragged. And today, right-around-the-time of her little temper-tantrum, the cutlery on the dish rack started tinklin’, the pots ‘n’ pans rattled on their hooks. Remember? You thought it was an earthquake...”

No sooner had those words parted his lips, than her niece’s eyelids flickered, her dark lashes fluttered like the wings of tiny rooks...

“It looks like she’s wakening...”

[she was awake the entire time. She couldn't hear their voices, just murmurs; she saw their blurred faces through a kaleidoscope of illuminated colours.

Now the room was getting brighter -- everything faded into the background until there was silence and shining white... nothing but silence and shining white...

The light was pouring in from the mirror above a wash-hand-basin at the back of the room. She watched the little girl with the lumpy head, luminous and translucent, climb out of it and come to the foot of the bed.]

The little ghost girl looked down on Oona with a pitying-frown.

The other voice explained

< I’m so sorry about shutting you down like this, but you needed reining in, and since your mentor is proving so indispensable, I’m afraid I have no further use for you at this point in time.

This operation is on hiatus...>

Ni was making her way through the woods toward the site. It was dusk and the darkening skies made it difficult to negotiate what could be loosely described as the pathway to the bog. She’d just fought her way through a particularly dense hawthorn bush, when the voice that sounded like nothing on earth crackled in her head:

She stopped. Oh God. How bad is she?

<She’ll live. But she is temporarily telepathically-impaired. >

So, is that it? She’s out of my life?

So... What do you get out of all this?

That sounded ominous. She paused before repeating her previous enquiry, Is that you Barry? Or am I talking to your ‘demon’? What’s your part in all this?

...........................

Hello...?

<Goodbye, Niamh. It’s been a pleasure working with -->

At that very moment, at SCICI: “... happy Barry? Well, you’ve got what you wanted. Your friend Somerville has seen to that!” chimed Rossington, hands on his knees, mock-smiling, yapping like an overbearing schoolmistress, “We’re taking away all the mirrors, wires, gadgets and spotlights and we’re going to put you in one of the older rooms: drab, dreary, padded walls, tiny windows, a plain white ceiling to stare up at all day. See how you like that, eh?!”

Matron and Matthew Cromarty were disconnecting the electrodes from Barry’s head while a pair of technicians on stepladders dismantled the mirrors, all listening as Rossington ranted at the insensible wretch on the bed, “But don’t worry -- I haven’t given up on you just yet,” he took out a large roll of print-out paper, unfurled it and pointed to various highlighted sections on a wave line, “I’ve had a look at your readings -- dates and times -- and a very interesting pattern emerges: for instance, when Niamh nearly crashed the car -- when Oona had a fit,” he indicated a row of numbers in the highlighted section: “increased brain activity! This proves your mind is active! What do you say to that?!”

Matron put a hand on his arm, “James, c’mon now, you’re gettin’ upset, you haven’t slept for days...”

“Get your fucking paws off me, you damn silly bitch,” he said, calmly. He made sure the technicians were out of earshot and took the pair to one and berated them, “Matt Cromarty (sniff), phew -- stinking of liquor as usual, and Matron Stranks, Ireland’s answer to Nurse Ratched.” He pointed at the CCTV camera above the door, “Do you have any idea what would happen if Somerville got hold of those tapes?” he looked at Cromarty, “For instance, I have video of you pinching his genitals!”

“I was just testin’ his reflexes!”

“What? Like this?” Rossington slapped him full in the face with an almighty smack.

The technicians stopped unscrewing and gawped.

Once he’d recovered from the shock, Cromarty burst into tears. Matron put her arms around him and let him sob into her pillowy bosom while Rossington rounded on her, “and as for you, you gormless old trout -- I have footage of you lighting candles and saying prayers over him!”

“I spoke to my priest and he told me to do it because...” she began to protest.

Rossington wagged his finger to cut her off, stooped and stared into her eyes, “... because you think it’ll protect you from the demon from McKee’s in Soul, huh? I warned you about talking to clergymen, didn’t I?!” He took her crucifix in his hand and tore it off, “And you of all people should know that the wearing of jewellery is not permitted in the institute!!” and plonked the trinket in the palm of her hand.

“Ask Peter Sinclair what he believes,” Cromarty cried into matron’s chest, referring to Rossington’s ‘flatmate’.

It was a cheap shot and the good doctor dearly wanted to lash out again, but the technicians were watching, so he made do with giving Cromarty the evil eye. “This is your last warning, shithead. Now get out of my sight.”

As they exited, two burly orderlies entered. They picked up the long, frail shape of Barry McKee and carefully deposited him onto a gurney; as they passed, Rossington looked into Barry’s unblinking eyes and said, “Life is about to get very boring for you, Barry.....”

Back in his office, he walked straight to his desk, turned on the reading lamp and lifted the phone with the intention of calling the flat to talk to Peter, but before he could dial the number, someone in the darkness at the back of the room said, “So, your li’l experiment’s gone tits-up, ‘as it, Jimbo?”

“Jeez! Herb? I thought you were in France...?” said Rossington, gulping, putting down the receiver.

There was Herbie, in full chauffeur uniform, driving-gloves-and-all, leaning on the bust of St Cedric at the back of the room, “I came back to check-up on fings,” he said, shaking his head regretfully. “I hear Oona’s put herself in a trance cuz the boyo you chose to be ‘er ‘usband ‘as been knockin’ ‘er abaht, ‘n the Fitzgerald gal you brought in to 'elp ‘er is due to leave the cahntry in a coupla weeks. All this after you wuz told to leave ‘er alone? It’s a right-old balls-up, innit Jimbo?”

Rossington backed up slightly so that he was touching the handle of the top drawer of the desk.

“Lookin’ fer this?” Herbie took Rossington’s beloved Magnum .357 from his belt; it glinted in the half-light as the big chauffeur advanced on his prey, “You've cost us a blahdy packet, Jim, and for what -- a psycho we can’t control?!”

“Oh shit, no, Herb...” The good doctor put up his hands and backed up toward the door, “I warned you -– I told you Oona is uncontrollable -– I told you she’s a sociopath -- she was driving Miss Fitzgerald crazy! She almost killed her!” His back hit the door with a thud -- Herbie grabbed him by the tie and growled into his face, “She wuz perfectly awright until you got yer fackin claws into ‘er!” He pressed the muzzle of the pistol against the ball of Rossington’s nose turning it into a porcine snout.

The good doctor kept his head steady and answered nervously, “She wasn't ‘alright’ -- she was locked in a room shut away from the world and she would've rotted in there if not for me! If you want to blame anyone -- blame Scanlon -– he’s the one who spread malicious rumours to get me taken off the case! He’s the one who’s plotting to get rid of her!”

Gorringe ran the muzzle along Rossington’s cheek and growled, “You can squeal all you like, Jimbo, but this time there’s no escaping yer fate.”

“Don’t do this, Herb. We go way back -- at least 20 years -- and I’ve always done my upmost -- I got Ollie off booze, I got Annelise off smack --”

“Ollie’s fallen off the wagon loadsa times since then and your ‘treatment’ nearly killed poor li’l Annelise! Not only that -- - you then proceeded to exploit ‘er!”

“Hardly! We wrote a book together! She made a lot of money and she’s fully recovered!”

Herbie pushed the muzzle hard into Rossington’s cheekbone, “That’s the reason the boss can never bring isself to pull the plug on ya. But the boss ain't the geezer ‘e used to be, see, ‘n ‘e leaves it to me to make all the Life or Deaf decisions.” He grabbed the good doctor’s tie, pulled him across the room, thrust him into his swivelling, leather throne and put the gun against his temple, “Now, sit still. This hasta look like suicide!”

Eyes squeezed-shut, Rossington begged for mercy in his native New Jersey accent, “Christ no, don’t do this!! Look, Scanlon is your guy -- he’s your loose cannon –- he’s always hated her...!”

There was a long pause, then he heard Gorringe say “We know.”

The muzzle was withdrawn, the pressure on his Adam’s-apple eased. He opened his eyes. Herbie was sitting on the edge of the desk, grinning, “That’s why yer off the ‘ook, for now,” he said, matter-of-factly, and in one deft movement spun the pistol around his finger like a six shooter, caught it by the barrel, ejected the magazine and put it in the breast pocket of his tunic, spun it again and handed the disarmed weapon to Rossington. “The boss ‘n’ me ‘ad a powwow ‘n you’re the lucky winner, Jimbo. Scanlon is indeed ‘a loose cannon’ and ‘e will be dealt wiv in doo course, but we ain’t pleased with yer work, so from now on you go back to doin’ yer normal business an’ we leave Oona alone to get on wiv ‘er life. OK?”

Rossington took the gun with a trembling hand and carefully put it back in the drawer, “Whatever you say.”

Herbie nodded, “Good. Until we decide wot to do next, this operation is on hiatus...”

The Wetlands of Bogmire, Co. Kildare, in the grounds of Pagham House:

12:45am: The clouds had opened, and as the raindrops hissed through the trees and strafed the canvas of the little shelter, the amateur archaeologists, some holding lanterns, gathered around to see what they’d found. Paddy knelt by the tarp and shone his torch on the entwined skeletons, now carefully washed down, relatively mud-free and finally exposed to the air. Shaking his head with incredulity, he turned to Ni and held up her little sketch, “You were right on the money. 100%. Exactly where you said they’d be, in the same position; one an ancient adult male, the other a child with a fractured skull -- you got it exactly right,” he said, utterly awestruck.

Ni, holding a handkerchief dipped in perfume to her nose, answered efficiently and unemotionally, “This lends credence to the legend that an ‘ancient magus’ was placed in the bog and cursed so that his evil wouldn't spread after his demise,” she explained to Emil, who was still too busy crapping his pants to take it in, let alone adopt his usual casual, cooler-than-thou attitude. But instead of raising any objection about despoiling a scene of natural beauty, he asked, tremulously, “And... you just had a dream... what...?”

Paddy tried to coax her into a confession, “C’mon Ni, did someone tell you about this? Is there someone out there who knows something about this?”

“I just had a vision, that’s all I can tell you. I can’t explain it. It could've been a side effect of the drugs Rossington gave me, but for some reason I knew it was true,” she said, equivocally.

“Well, I’m flummoxed,” said Paddy, standing up, pulling down his hood and scratching his head, “The older mummy is perfectly preserved! It’ll take some time to date it, but I’m pretty sure it’s thousands of years old. I don’t know whether to feel elated or afraid!”

“It’s very... exciting,” said Emil, very uncomfortable in his own skin, not knowing how to behave.

Paddy made a face and said, “Is that all you have to say? This is a monumental find! I thought you’d be overjoyed?!” He looked from one to the other and twigged something was wrong, “Did you two have a row on the drive down?”

“Oh, a disagreement over something insignificant,” said Ni, glancing at Emil.

Emil swallowed hard, looked away and said nothing.

“What about the little girl?” she asked, sparing his blushes.

Paddy hunkered down again and examined the smaller, whiter skeleton closely and shook his head, “Well, we’ll have to identity her, poor thing. In my opinion, she was definitely killed in this century; at least 50 years ago, so there must be a record of her somewhere. The murderer or murderers could still be alive.”

It struck her like a thunderbolt. She put the handkerchief over her mouth to stifle her gasp and stepped back. This time it wasn't the smell that made her recoil.

This is the little girl in the Somerville kids’ bedroom. This is the little girl she saw in the mirrors. This is the little girl she saw at the edge of the woods. This is her. There were tresses of black hair still clinging to the skull and the remains of a little nightdress clinging to the skeleton, but Ni didn’t need to see the physical evidence, she knew in her heart it was true. But why did McKee/his demon want her found?

Meanwhile, “... the question is: how did she come to be resting in the other’s arms? 5000 years apart and they’re positioned like Madonna and Child? It doesn’t make sense,” said Paddy, looking to his colleague for an opinion, “What do you think, Emil? Ever seen anything like this?”

Still distracted by guilt and embarrassment, nevermind the potential explosiveness of the situation, Emil answered diffidently, “Umm... yeah... sure looks like murder to me...”

Piqued by his friend’s semi-detached attitude and his niece’s apparent lassitude, Paddy stood up and gruffly announced, “Sorry folks, but this place will be a crime scene for the foreseeable future. Until we get this mystery sorted out, this operation is on hiatus...”

The Ivy House, Downpatrick, Northern Ireland:

01:45am: Ogden Castle, the Lumb’s rotund butler -- counsel to the New Master of the house and newly-installed leader of the coven, Jamie Jameson Lumb -- crossed the tiled lobby and waddled up the hall to the drawing room. He’d called a house meeting, although there’ll only be two members present; Lady Beth was off to her ranch in Connecticut leaving them to sort out the ‘hocus-pocus shit’. The housemates and household staff were under lockdown and warned not to venture out of the estate ‘until the Barry McKee business has been sorted’. Puffing and panting, he knocked the door and entered. “C’mon, Oggy,” said Jamie, “what’s the news? I had to put off a meditation session for this!” This was true; he was dressed in a Persian kaftan and beaded slippers, his brow and shaved head daubed with ancient runes peculiar to the coven.

Puffing and wheezing, Castle took a seat and explained, “Sorry, sir, I was waitin’ for word from the Council, it takes ages now, what with the Psychosphere still out-of-commission.” He took a deep breath and told them, “Anyway, according to the lads in Namibia, there’s the slightest hint of violet in the sunset. He’s definitely not weakening. He’s getting energy from somewhere. There are also traces of him in the Mirror World.”

Guy ‘Goz’ Gosling, Jamie’s school friend, ex-band mate, former rock star and now a successful movie actor, was slumped across one of the leather armchairs. He was also shaven-headed and bare-footed, but in his case it was a fashion choice, like his black Bowie tee-shirt and tight-fitting leather trousers. He was sick and tired of the whole affair and desperately wanted to get back to Hollywood to resuscitate his acting career, “That’s it then. Go to SCICI and unplug him. How hard can it be?”

“You know how hard it can be, dickhead, he has to die a natural death,” snapped Jamie, shooting him a dirty look. “If we kill McKee the demon will just migrate to the nearest lifeform, I don’t need to tell you that. We have to tackle him while McKee’s still alive, and to do that, we need to get close, and Rossington has him locked up safe ‘n sound in a secure unit in a high-security prison. That’s how hard it can be.”

They were at an impasse. It was times like that Jamie dreaded. Making decisions that could drastically affect the coven. It was the only time he doubted his abilities. Castle read him, “You've nothing to fear, sir, it’s only a setback. We’ll get him.”

“There is another option we haven’t explored,” said Goz, sheepishly.

Jamie read his mind without the aid of telepathy, “No. Not him.”

“But he can travel in the Mirror World and he has the energy to cast spells, he could tackle him from the inside...?”

Castle and Jamie considered it for all of second and then gave him a firm, “No.”

“Master Bernard is more likely to make a deal with the demon than try to stop him,” said Castle.

“That’s if he hasn’t already!” said Jamie.

Goz threw up his hands in anger and despair, “Well, what other choice do we have?! We can’t get close enough to him to curse him! We can’t attack him in the Mirror World...?”

Jamie paced the floor in front of the fireplace and bemoaned their lot, “If only Carla wasn't resting. She’d get into SCICI and no one would bat an eyelid.”

Castle was quick to correct him, “Aye, she may be able to beguile a lot of people simultaneously, sir, but she can’t beguile security cameras. And besides, Rossington’s already met her [See Book One Part 9]; he knows she’s one of us.”

Jamie heaved a heavy sigh, “Then, what the hell are we going to do?”

The prospect of enlisting Bernie Pritchard to do the dirty work was looking inevitable until there was a knock on the door and Fordham the footman entered, excused himself and whispered something in Castle’s ear. The butler nodded and Fordham left.

“Well, Oggy, what is it?!” said Jamie, impatiently.

Castle explained that an archaeological dig in Kildare had unearthed the mummy of an evil magus and broken an ancient curse releasing a cloud of dark energy into the air, “It’s so virulent that it’s rendered the entire area unapproachable for psyches like us. And it would account for the sudden surge of dark power.”

“How come we didn’t know about this? An evil magus buried in a bog? An ancient curse? I don’t remember any of this being mentioned in history class,” said Goz, getting more irritated with each development.

“It must've happened before our ancestors came home to Ireland,” offered Castle, “the curse put on his earthly remains must've been strong enough to cover all trace of ‘im. They mustn’t’ve felt anything at all when they arrived or they’d’ve dealt with it...” Castle’s voice dropped as he realised something relevant to the conversation.

“What is it now, Oggy?” said Jamie, getting evermore anxious with every disclosure.

“I dunno, it could be nothin’.” Castle told them of a residence in the immediate vicinity of the bog; Pagham House. It was built to the same specifications as the Ivy House at around the same time, “The 8th Duke of Roxborough -- Thaddeus Ravenhill -- a one time friend of Sir Arnold’s [Jamie’s grandfather], commissioned it. They were as thick as thieves back in the day, but he wasn’t one of us. He tried everything, y’know, the usual hokum: satanic rituals, virgin sacrifice, that sorta bollocks. He was executed in 1795, but Sir Arnold had nuthin’ to do with ‘im by then. He was off his rocker on mind-bending drugs. Anyway, I think the bog is in the grounds of his estate.”

“You think he could have something to do with this?” asked Jamie.

“Seems unlikely. If he did know about it, he didn’t mention it to Sir Arnold. And if anyone could see through Roxborough it was Sir Arnold. Still, it’s a bit of a coincidence them finding the mummy on his land....” said Castle, pensively.

“How dangerous can this mummy be?” said Goz, confused, “I mean, he must've Ascended when he died? If he was a ghost we’d know about it by now.”

Jamie looked to Castle, “He has a point.”

Castle sighed with fatigue, “It’s not his Soul that matters, sir,” he said, mopping his neck with his handkerchief, “he musta been beholden to the demon; only a disciple would have access to that sorta dark power. And that energy never dies; it lives on in the body. In other words, he’s as dangerous dead as he was alive.” He offered them some consolation, “On the other hand, it could take years for the demon to access it, especially in an isolated, incapacitated body. McKee could die a natural death in that time, ‘n if that’s the case, the demon will die with him ‘n none of this will matter.” Castle took a deep breath, “In the meantime, the witches can keep an eye on things. They’re the only ones who can be around dark energy and only suffer minor effects. I’ll give ‘em a call on the auld crystal ball, I just hope they’re agreeable. They can be a fickle lot at the best of times.”

“I just thought of something,” said Jamie, in a troubled voice, “as the crow flies, it’s only around 80 miles from Odin’s Inn.”

“Shite, I forgot about that ...” said Castle, groaning, putting his head in his hands, “... will it ever end?”

Goz looked from one to the other, “’Odin’ Inn’?”

“It’s in Brodir, a deserted seaside town on the coast of Wicklow,” Jamie told him, “it’s where Calvert and the Lindsay woman live; they were the couple involved in the capture of McKee. Danielle’s Soul migrated to the woman during the encounter. They’re due to have a baby at some time in the near future.”

Goz was suddenly very interested and sat up, “Jeezus! Dani? Dani’s coming back?! How do you know for sure?”

“Witches,” said Castle, tapping his temples with his index fingers, “they’re never wrong.” [See Book One, Part 21]

“But if the demon gets wind of it while all this shit’s going down, she could be corrupted all over again,” said Jamie, shaking his head at the enormity of the task ahead.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to work on a solution, sir,” Castle informed him with a regretful frown, “cos a few of us older ones are drained after the events of the last 6 months. We need to go down below ‘n get some rest or we’ll be no use to anybody.”

Jamie was aghast, “You’re hibernating?! For how long?”

“At least a couple of years. The witches can handle things while we’re away. As far as we’re concerned, this operation is on hiatus.”

2 years later...

ODIN’S INN, BRODIR, Co. Wicklow:

Sunday, May 2nd 1991

The bar resounded with a loud banging: there was someone at the front door. Zindy shouted from the kitchen, “There’s somebody at the front door, Mal!”

Malky looked over the banister and yelled back, “...And here’s me thinkin’ the woodworm were using heavy machinery!”

“I’m laughin’ but the door’s still bangin’!”

“I’m wasted in this place,” he muttered, put down his paintbrush and got to his feet, “Ooow, me back!” He’d been sitting on the stairs varnishing the handrail for the past 90 minutes and his vertebrae had settled into an awkward curve; it took him a good few seconds to stretch-out the kink.

Meanwhile, in the parlour, Brooster was enjoying his Sunday; there was always plenty to watch: a film in the afternoon and documentaries on BBC2 at night -- unless there was sport on, in which case he’d watch Channel 4 or RTE2. He felt a little guilty lazing around like this, but after 10 years working as a RUC cadaver dog, going for runs every day at dawn and getting up at all hours to sniff for corpses in the dark, he felt he’d earned his rest. Anyway, today’s matinee featured an Alec Guinness double bill (one of Broo’s favourite actors) on BBC2: Kind Hearts and Coronets followed by Bridge over the River Kwai; just his cup of tea. He was enjoying Dennis Price committing the first murder when he heard a robust knock at the front door. It was very unusual to get visitors at this time of year, especially on a Sunday. He struggled to his feet, whimpering intermittently as his old bones ached with the effort, staggered across the floor and put an ear against the door.

The banging began again.

The kitchen door opened and Broo winced as Zindy’s voice shrieked in the hall, “Malky! The door!! I’m up to me tits in derv!” Evidently her pregnancy had not affected her vocal cords.

“RIGHT!” Malky shouted back, muttering under his breath about the abolition of slavery as he lurched through the bar and into the vestibule, and taking care not to touch the recently varnished woodwork, slid back the bolts and opened the door to a tall, sturdily-built man in his mid-to-late 60s looking up at him from the bottom step.

Clad in a neat, well-pressed, double-breasted grey uniform topped-off with a peaked cap and patent leather knee-boots, he had the bearing of an ex-military-man, and although it looked familiar, the uniform didn’t belong to any militia or security force Malky had ever seen. Then he looked across the cobbled concourse and saw an unoccupied Rolls Royce Silver Shadow parked at the kerb and realised that the caller was in fact a chauffeur. He wasn't a handsome man by any stretch, but he was tall and thick with wide shoulders; he had a long, horse-like face and teeth to match, but the tanned, heavily-lined and ruggedly earnest features lent him a certain charisma, like a US army general, or a well-travelled bouncer; tough but canny: someone who won’t take shit from anybody. And although Malky was certain he wasn't looking for a room, nevertheless he pointed out the inexpertly rendered homemade sign taped to the outside of the door that read Closed for Renovations, “Um, we’re not open til the autumn, pal. Try Arklow, 6 miles that-away.” He pointed due north.

The chauffeur looked at a piece of paper, then looked askance at the paint-spattered individual in the doorway, “Malcolm Calvert...?”

It has to be said, his misgivings weren’t without foundation: Malky was not a pretty sight at that particular moment -– unshaven with greying, uncombed collar-length hair, wearing Zindy’s ex-boyfriend’s outsized Hawkwind tee-shirt and emulsion caked M&S pyjama pants -- he looked like a hobo that’d really let himself go. “Who wants to know?” he asked, charily, well-used to uninvited attention -- usually pressmen waving cheque books or ghouls and geeks in search of the ‘truth’ about Barry McKee -- and normally, he would have slammed the door shut by now, but today he was intrigued: Who would send their chauffeur...?

The big driver took off his peaked cap revealing a dark, bog-brush silvery crew-cut (another tick in the ex-military column), put it under his left arm and moved-up-a-step so that he could shake Malky’s hand.

“Hello, Mr Calvert, ‘Erbert Gorringe. Pleased to meet ya,” he said, in a croaky, cockney rumble...

To Be Continued Next Month in Ha! Ha! said the Clown

#spindlefreck #fantasy #witchcraft #witches #psychics #telepathy #demon #irish fiction #ghosts #horror #blackcomedy #mysticism #mystics #dreams #fantasy horror

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tristala · 6 years

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Thoughts on Sofia the First Part 1:

I wrote these almost every time I watched an episode but I’m just going to post the more ‘meaningful’ ones out here. Only the episodes that I care or got mad about will be featured. I know it’s late and I should have posted these every time I finished a season but it took a week to convince myself just to post this since the finale is today. It will be divided into 5 parts and maybe an additional sixth part if I feel like talking about Forever Royal.

Season 1

Sofia the First Once Upon a Princess

Not a bad pilot. I could barely remember the whole thing so this is basically still new to me. Suddenly becoming a royal must be a huge culture shock for Sofia though shouldn’t Miranda also have a hard time? She probably took lessons or something, maybe it’s also because she’s a full grown woman? Idk.

I like how it showed Sofia struggling in trying to keep up and it doesn’t help that Amber was sabotaging her. Also hearing the good ol’ Mr. Ceedric brings back memories. I feel like I’m gonna have a lot of second hand embarrassment for Cedric in the future eps.

I personally like Cinderella's advice and song for Sofia and how she and Amber patched things up. A good introduction to the series.

Just One of the Princes

The usual girls can’t do boy’s things just because they’re girls. The song’s catchy and everyone’s voices are good, especially Amber’s. Minimus is amusing and I’d like to see him again and judging by them being in the derby I probably will. I also kinda hoped that Sofia wouldn’t actually win because she never rode a horse let alone a flying one in her life and didn’t have enough practice time. But since this is a kid’s show (Get ready to hear this a lot) she just had to win.

Winning isn’t everything and I wish they showed that and still praised Sofia for trying to make a change, maybe then she and Minimus will just have to practice more for next year. My favorite moments were Amber supporting Sofia, getting worried for her and giving her derby tiara to her sister as a prize.

The Big Sleepover

I don’t have much to say for this ep. I’m loving Amber’s singing. Ruby and Jade annoyed me a bit but I’m starting to like Clio. Glad that they showed a different personality and not just cardboard cutouts of typical haughty princesses.

Cedric's Apprentice

This was the episode I remembered the most and still love, even more than when I first saw it. Cedric’s parents are fun, doing the devil angel thing. His song was nice, it explained the reason why he wants to take over the kingdom. It really shows that he has low self esteem. Even if this was the episode I remembered the most I forgot that he was pretty patient with Sofia when he taught her.

“Not every royal sorcerer can be as gifted as your father.”

That line was like a slap to the face. Roland...dude, the hell?

No wonder he has low self esteem. Even when I chuckled at Baileywick’s burn, that was still sad. Everyone seems to look down on him except Sofia.

Sofia leaving him rubies arranged into a heart, risking herself with the lizard potion and giving him a gold star gave me diabetes. I feel like magic’s going to be the princess’ forte. I’m seeing a beautiful friendship blooming and I don’t think Cedric’s truly evil, maybe this will go somewhere.

A Royal Mess

Another catchy song. Amber fanning was hilarious, as well as Cedric’s “Oh it wasn’t me your Majesty, it was the chiiildreeen.” The lesson was simple and nice.

The Shy Princess

Sadly it’s the typical approach of a shy girl but sorta done better. I like James’ and Zandar’s friendship and I want to know more about the adorable chinese princess. The way Sofia handled Vivian’s shyness was okay. Maybe the reason I thought it was mediocre was because not everyone is gifted or loves music as much as Vivian. I know music helps people deal with their stage fright. Heck, it helped me when performed onstage but what if music wasn’t her hobby? What then? Still, I find her interesting and I really want her to not be suddenly confident like she wasn’t shy at all in the future episodes she will be in.

The Princess Test

I love the song and I like how Amber gave Hildegard more confidence in herself but something about it doesn’t sit well with me and I don’t know why. Maybe I’m thinking too much into it like what if more than one helped Fauna? Would she have conjured up more books and more obstacles? Maybe it’s because of the way the fairies awarded everyone?

The Little Witch

This didn’t really sit well with me. Lucinda did a lot of harmful hexes and her being easily forgiven disturbed me. Jade has every right to not invite her. That witch should learn that there are consequences and not everyone can be forgiven so easily. Also where are the adults? If she has been doing this for a while then someone must have at least reported to the king or have done something. Still a kid’s show after all.

Two to Tangu

The first time we get to see another land and kingdom. Not gonna lie, that carpet also frustrated me. Amber’s ruffled hair is cute though. It was Sofia and Amber’s bonding moments that made this one gold.

Finding Clover

Clover I swear irritated me a lot and I hated the fact that the episode implied that it was Sofia’s fault too. She did nothing wrong and I just felt bad for her.I love how Sofia threatened the magician.

“I’ll go to the castle, I’ll get the guards. I’ll get my dad.”

I do like the lesson though, a pretty realistic moral.

The Amulet and the Anthem

I adore the Enchancian Anthem especially with their combined voices in the end. I also like how Ruby is more forgiving than Jade. Cedric was really fun in this episode. Belle’s song was nice and Sofia trying to sing along is cute.

Princess Butterfly

Another favorite episode. Amber’s character development is going well and I’m growing quite fond of her. Wormwood and his sorcerer playing checkers and them sleeping is precious. Cedric’s “NoOO.” and “I CAN’T imAgine what went wrONg.” was hysterical.

The costume is beautiful but I also love Sofia’s. Cedric manipulating Amber was also good, their interactions are amusing. I also find it funny that Sofia noticed Amber’s attempts on trying to get her amulet but not when Cedric does his schemes.

Sofia willing to to sacrifice her amulet for her sister and Amber realizing that she doesn’t deserve this was A content. It was so adorable when they leaned their heads on each other.

The Floating Palace

Sofia’s mermaid form is nice along with Oona and her family. I don’t mind Sven, he actually didn’t annoy me. The animation is improving, the water and clouds look amazing and I love Emily’s design. I also noticed that Cedric is more devious in his sea creature form? Wormwood as a small squid is cute.

Ariel used to be my favorite and seeing her again just hit me with nostalgia. Wow, Cedric actually tried drowning a child, maybe he gained animal instincts? The whole sequence with Emily stopping the storm was epic. I guess we’ll have more mermaid adventures in the future. It was a good special.

Holiday in Enchancia

A good holiday special. Wassalia’s one of my favorite songs and Amber hits those notes so right. I love all of the winter get ups except for Amber’s. For a fashionable princess, she surely has the most plain outfit of them all, they basically just made her usual dress darker but her coat makes it a bit better. I didn’t like the reason Aurora was summoned and I felt that her appearance was wasted. It was too short and didn’t have any real meaningful lessons. Sofia could’ve easily thought of that herself.

I do love that they gave their gifts to the children, especially Amber’s “We have enough presents.” My girl’s growing, I’m proud. It’s an uplifting episode.

#Sofia the First #Sofia the Fandom #StF #Mah Posts

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todaysbiggesthits · 6 years

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The Exam

Best Music Moment of 2018:

Nasty: Hearing Red Eyes live. I've already said it on TBH, but seeing your favorite band in their relative prime is such a cool thing.

BC: Since partying all night with my favorite band fell within the short window between Bestuv '17 ending and Bestuv '18 beginning, I'd have to say:

1. Kacey Musgrave's performance of "Slow Burn" on SNL

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2. Radiohead perfectly executing "There There" which transported me back to Lollapalooza in '08 3. Despite the annoyance of sitting in lots of Indy500 traffic due to a new parking situation, I quite enjoyed working through half of the Stones' catalogue with Bronco riding shotgun and Codemin listening in from the flatbed of Dillon's pickup

Codem: Spending what was New Year's Eve for the central timezone in the USA at a Fijian medical bath facility listening to music, playing cards, downing tequeel and getting ringworm with my blushing bride. -hearing peter hook play the bass line from shadowplay live and in person. -Arden, JD and JJ encouraging me to go talk to Kyle from Swearin'. -Silver Jews and Westing (By Musket and Sextant) came to Spotify. -Watching "Random Rules" video for the first time

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Larse: Sitting behind this massive (I mean orca fat) guy at the CHVRCHES show, feeling really bad for him before the show started because he was all alone and kept looking around and worrying about letting people in his row and things. As soon as CHVRCHES came on though, this guy was exactly where he was supposed to be that night. Sang the words and danced to every song and just made my day with how happy he was to be there. Jotted down every song of the setlist into his smartphone and just had an all around great time. And some of you motherfuckers won't even go to a movie by yourself!

JD: May: A moody Chinatown stroll with the new Grouper album in the rain. July: Soaking up some good tunes at the housewarming party to ring in our new pad. July: Some hilariously rambunctious youths having at it when “House of Jealous Lovers” came on during a full play of Compilation 1 at the DFA summer party. One of them (who must have been ~8 in the bygone days of 02) screamed out “this is the song that started it all!” to a crowd of stationary gawkers and I felt a brief moment of hope for the youngs. August: Shaking a leg at Pete’s wedding (also featuring a delightful hojl spin). September: A rowdy spin of “Sentient Oona” on the Levee juke with an impromptu digital jukebox dance party at the Turkey’s Nest with jj’s cousin and his lovely girlfriend. October: The best music cue I’ve ever seen at the end of Beau Travail.

Bronco: Taking John to his first concert, and that first concert was Mastodon. That was pretty awesome to be able to share that experience with him. He was super into it, and so were the metalheads at the show. "Dad of the Year" was definitely shouted more than a few times, and I thought to myself, "fuckin-A right."

Chap: My kids saying "Papa" when "She Drives Me Crazy" by Fine Young Cannibals comes on.

Best Shows Seen in 2018:

C: Open Mike Eagle at Pitchfork

Bronco: Sleep

Laser: CHVRCHES at Riverside Theater; Chromeo at Summerfest

BC: The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Radiohead

Nasty: The War on Drugs.

Code: kraus - schubas peter hook - metro no age - the bottle swearin' - bowery eleanor friedberger - lincoln hall my bloody valentine - aragon "quickly climbing the ranks of my nice" ballroom kraus - the bottle pictureplane - bottom lounge soft moon - the bottle book of love - chop shop

JD: 1. Shame at Market Hotel 2. Hamilton Leithauser at the Carlyle Hotel 3. Beach House at United Palace Theater 4. The Voidz at Elsewhere 5. Parquet Courts’ Wide Awake! mid-day album release show with my morning coffee at Rough Trade

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6. Flasher at St. Vitus 7. Deafheaven at Brooklyn Steel 8. Panda Bear at Brooklyn Steel 9. No Age at Brooklyn Bazaar 10. CCFX at the DFA summer party at Elsewhere with my girlfriend in full blown rem sleep standing up with her head on my shoulder 11. Alex Cameron at Warsaw 12. Gang Gang Dance and Interpol at House of Vans Of note: Dekkar at On Cinema Live at the Bell House.

Confession of 2018:

JD: I have a real TBH confession that I held until now. I was thoroughly enjoying the Flasher album on a recent evening after a few too many drinks when a burning urge to see them washed over me. They had a show coming up at a bar just a few blocks from my apartment, so I enthusiastically snapped up tickets for me and jj. Thinking this might be a good opportunity for a TBH outing, I emailed Chap trying to peer pressure him into attending the Flasher show and gauging his interest in a Parquet Courts concert that would be happening the following evening. No response.

We later received an invitation to a holiday cocktail party at a friend’s apartment on the same night as the Flasher show, and I hatched a cockamamie scheme to go from our home in Greenpoint to the party in Soho, leave after an hour to catch the concert back in Greenpoint, head back to the party in Soho, and finally retire back to Greenpoint. JJ wisely passed on such a scheme and I left the party to trek off to the concert solo with an extra ticket in tow.

Awash in good cheer and excitement while Flasher set up, I thought what the hell, might as well take a flier on reminding Chap of the show. Maybe the twins are asleep, he’s just sitting around, can jump into a cab, claim the extra ticket, watch the show, and cruise on back. Mid-text I paused, wondering just why he never responded to the initial email weeks ago. A quick gmail search, and there sat my drunkenly composed beseechment to join, rotting in the drafts folder unsent.

A couple of the dudes from Parquet Courts were bouncing around the bar, and I decided it would make more sense to hit up Chap about attending their show the next day than explain the whole snafu and extend a ludicrous invitation that required dropping everything and leaving immediately for a show he didn’t even know was happening. I ate the extra ticket, had a blast watching Flasher, zipped back to the party, drank myself into oblivion, and was way too hung over to even consider the Parquet Courts show the next day. NICK SORRY NICK! (editor’s note: too long)

Larson: I saw Timberlake at Fiserv Forum

BC: My neighbor invited me to see Imagine Dragons. I lied and said I had to travel for work. "On a Saturdee?" he inquired. "Yeah. Totally sucks," I awkwardly replied. I hid inside my house all weekend.

Bronco: I'd rather see shows by myself than with my buddy. He likes going to shows, and I keep inviting him, and we have a fine time, but he doesn't live in town anymore, so I gotta worry about him drinking too much and driving an hour home. And his wife is a psychopath and that complicates shit. Too much. And it's just so much more freeing being able to not give a fuck about anyone else during that time, to just soak it all in, it feels good and right.

Codem: -despite all of the bad things that kanye said, i still liked listening to his catalogue throughout the year. i even liked his EP that came out in 2018. -i really liked the beach house album! -i liked the snail mail album, skipped two opportunities to see her and then by --the end of the year, i thought the album was sort of boring. -Arden and i went to see pictureplane open for alice glass and thought that the show sucked and pictureplane played such stupid songs. three months later, he put out my favorite album of the year and i can't stop thinking that i hated all of the same songs the first time i heard them. -i read an article on a bright fall saturday morning that exhaustively detailed the Cardi B and Nicki Minaj feud and i watched all of the instagram story clips that showed Cardi B scrolling through her phone with those outlandish nails of hers. it took me two cups of coffee to get through it all, but get through it i did. [i couldn't think of nicki minaj's name just now so i stared at the ceiling and kept running through names in my mind's eye: missy, kim, cardi, kelis, kim??, eve, trina. i couldn't remember. so i finally googled "kanye monster" and found her name. easy.]

Nasty: I'm done with new music. It’s over. I didn't listen to a single new album - I don't even know if I could name a new album. Realistically, I did like Daytona.

Biggest Disappointment of 2018:

Nasty: MAGA Kanye

Larse: Timberlake at Fiserv Forum

Bronco: Black Tusk, Alice in Chains

BC: Getting into The Orwells literally two days before #MeToo chewed 'em up and spit 'em out

Chap: Car Seat Headrest. Can't believe he's gay! jk the album was the disappointment.

Code: -somebody hacked my spotify account and wiped all of my music and replaced it with raggaeton and halsey. i was able to get my music back, but i lost all of my meticulously cared for folder structure. -i wanted the simple minds album to be cool; it was not. -i wanted the swearin' album to be really great; it was okay. -pictureplane and ovlov did not tour their albums. -i had to eat two tickets to my bloody valentine after buying four. the original show sold out and i thought i was going to be able to sell my extras for a profit -- they ended up announcing a second show and there was no secondary market for the original show. -no CCFX followup ):

JD: Got to Hammerstein Ballroom for MBV and there was a line longer than an entire avenue. They were already on by the time we made it into the heinously oversold venue and we were stuck by the bar in the lobby surrounded by people constantly shouting in an effort to compete with the apocalyptic noise.

C: Terrible sound at Tame Impala show

Most Overrated of 2018:

Code: -probably that kacey musgraves album; i got absolutely nothing out of it. also, i liked the robyn album, but i wanted to love it after many years between releases. i think i'm just being greedy. -i'm going to get killed for this, but the throwing the baby out with the bathwater approach to artists' criminal behavior or inflammatory tweets is pretty overrated right now.

Bronco: Ghost - I like their schtick, with rotating members and the whole inverted church thing. It's campy but they're sticking to it, and that's fine, but their music isn't metal. It's poppy glam shit about the devil, and that's also fine, but I don't get why it's on anyone's list. Production value maybe? But the music itself isn't anything to write home about. I just don't get it.

JD: n/a. The thick layer of nonsensical, Pynchonian obfuscation the platform economy dollops over everything has made it impossible to understand how anything is rated. Almost feel bad for the click driven publications that have to just throw out a guess.

C: Mitski

Chap: Snail Mail

BC: Kanye. His new music is no longer good enough to put up with his bufoonery.

Laser: Timberlake at Fiserv Forum

Nasty: Clemson. GOARSH.

Make It Stop 2018:

Nasty: DJT, anytime now.

Bronco: Party politics. No more labels allowed. You can have a list of stuff you support and a list of stuff you are against, but that's fucking it. No more this side vs that side for reasons as caddy as an R vs. a D. Also religion having any influence whatsoever in the way our country is run. Believe whatever you want to believe, but don't force your bullshit on anyone else. You want to torment yourself with a lifelong christian guilt trip, that's your boat to float, but don't go poking holes in my boat just because you're a miserable fuck. Just stop. Also, Jack White.

Larse: Timberlake at Fiserv Forum

Chap: Baby Shark

BC: My shrinking attention span

JD: The cultural currency of clapbacks, shade, and tea.

Code: trap music playing from a phone's external speaker while i'm trapped on public transportation. i'm going to go broke buying enough earbuds to distribute to these offenders.

Biggest TBH Regret of 2018:

Larse: Timberlake at Fiserv Forum

C: Not seeing Low at a church on University of Chicago's Campus

JD: -Hearing about a Grouper show at a church around the corner from my pad after it sold out. -Not necessarily a regret because I didn’t know it was happening, but oh how I wish I had seen Jon Glaser and Jon Benjamin as Dave Farina and Dave Franz, Dennis and Dennis’ sons, at a Bowery Ballroom Yo La Tengo show.

BC: -I wish I would've cooked up a way to see Shame play a midnight show in Bloomington. I just want that kid to scream "Concrete" in my face. -I probably should've seen Smashing Pumpkins when they rolled through town too.

Code: my flight got delayed and i missed the swearin' show at that place in brooklyn that "smelled like hot fish"

Bronco: Not a regret so much as I was super-bummed when High on Fire dropped out of the tour I saw in November. The venue we were at put my buddy and I right next to the stage. It would've been crazy awesome to see HOF there, but they've rescheduled at least, and I'll see them in January.

Bin: I haven't listened to any Kanye this year. I thought it would feel gratifying by year end - it doesn't. I'll probably still avoid this most recent album, but I'm going back to the well. I'll continue to talk shit about him though. Take that Ye!

Chap: No regrets

Detective Murtaugh of 2018:

Larse: Getting too old to keep up with all of this new music and put a worthwhile list together at the end of the year…

Nasty:

youtube

Code: i added book of love show to my top ten concert list because Arden and i were able to take a seat on the ground in the balcony section. we had to continually move our spot on the floor to be able to peer through the railing and a mass of bodies in order to catch a glimpse of the stage.

JD: -Two of my favorite music related experiences of the year were seeing Hamilton Leithauser in the cafe of the Carlyle Hotel and the extended Niles family in The Nutcracker at the NYC Ballet. -When I googled “Detective Murtaugh” just now it was mostly pictures of Damon Wayans (Jr. no less!) playing the role on the Lethal Weapon CBS series.

Bronco: Putting up with shit instead of speaking up about it. There's room on the train but I'm squished by the door because some self-absorbed dinks won't move in? "Could you please move in?" It sounds so simple, but breaking that silence barrier was a scary thing. Now I don't give a shit. I'm on train for two stops, and I'm not going to see you again, so fuck you, move in or I'm going to move myself in and it aint gonna be pleasant for you.

Chap: A hipster female barber said I was a silver fox. AYFKM?

BC: What the hell is Fortnite?

Resolution for 2018 Update:

Larse: get my list in on time! How it went: probably horseshit! (editor’s note: it was early yet!)

NACK: While I didn’t have the occasion to catch shows this year, I anticipate doing so in '18 due to some changes afoot. How it went: Joe Dons has yet to let me know of a concert going on and I have no other friends here, so I blame him for my failure

Bin: I’m just going to keep saying “get to NY for a show with JD” until I make it happen. How it went: Didn't get to NY for a show with JD.

JD: See you gents more often with or without a show attached. How it went: Fairly decent, but is it really ever enough?

Bronco: Get in shape. I want to stick to a schedule of running all year round. I ran a 10K back in June, then needed to recover for a bit, been recovering ever since…Fat Dad needs to keep running all year round without excuse, especially given that we go skiing between Xmas and New Year’s and I’m gonna be a floppy legged mess. During those runs, I’ll try to listen to new material each time. How it went: I ran a 5-miler in May. Haven't run since. Though I have been reasonably consistent with my prison workout (situps and pushups before bed time), so now there's a hint of muscle under my fat dad layer. Just gotta combine the two now somehow.

Code: make more playlists for my wife How it went: i said that i was going to make more mixes for my wife. i made one year-end mix for her and i'm sure she's loving it :*

BC: No more resolutions How it went: 2018 Resolution was "No More Resolutions," so pretty darn good!

Resolution for 2019:

Laser: ---

BC: Listen to one new album a week; reboot the Classic Album Review Club

JD: Greater consciousness of how I’m using my attention - an ineffectual and meaningless protest of the ways the world is burning down in pursuit of it.

Bronco: Read more 'classic' books. I didn't read many of them, even in school (especially in school? Never could read a book I was told to read). But I'm leaning in the sci-fi direction of 'classics'. I just read Dune this summer, and wrapped up Fahrenheit 451 the other day. I'm feeling an unexplained need to beef up my nerd credentials and this seems the way to accomplish it.

Chap: Learn Piano; Guilt Joe Dons into finally inviting me to a concert

Nasty: I'm sticking with it - get to NY for a show with JD.

Code: catch ovlov, pictureplane, washer, chromatics, EMA and colleen green live this year.

Most Anticipated of 2019:

Bronco: Tool. Fifth year's the charm. I'm actually hopeful this time around. In fact, I half expect them to drop it on New Year's Eve or something, just so it's post Listicle season, but not quite 2019 so it can't end up on those lists either. They're such dicks like that.

BC: Still waitin' on dat Vampire Weekend yet

Chap: Vampire Weekend, Chromatics

C: Lin Manuel in Mary Poppins... I kid, My Bloody Valentine

JD: Going to put Frank Ocean out into the universe, MBV take 2, Grimes, Panda Bear, Kanye’s escape from the Black Lodge

Codem: chromatics - tommy, MBV, washer, colleen green, EMA(?), DoM

Laser: no idea what's even on the docket

Nasty: Mueller's Report

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thetigarchives · 6 years

Photo

THE TIG ARCHIVES│LIVING│SUMMER READING LIST

“She reads books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live. Annie Dillard hit the nail on the head with that one. Because whether it’s to escape, to inform, to inspire, or to just turn off the world while you sit by a pool, I love getting lost in a good book. When I asked my Suits sister wives, Gina Torres and Sarah Rafferty, what literary finds they would be delving into between the scripts we read every week, I was tickled by some of their answers. As a matter of fact, when I told Gina I was surprised by one of her rather unexpected picks, her response was classic: ‘Lotta layers under all this hair.’ Well played, Mama G, well played.

Here are your TIG approved summer reads from the ladies of Suits:” - Meghan Markle, July 2014

Meghan’s Picks (as quoted by Meghan):

“The Opposite of Loneliness” by Marina Keegan

“I am undone by this book. It’s a collection of essays written by Marina Keegan, who graduated Magna Cum Laude from Yale in 2012, had a job lined up at the New Yorker, and tragically died in a car accident just five days after graduation. Her stories are raw and real, funny and relatable. And she writes with a fluid conversational tone that makes you feel like you know her. I truly wish I had been able to. Get this book – I couldn’t put it down.”

“The Dud Avocado” by Elaine Dundy

“I always go back to this book for summer reading because it’s light and fun, and exactly what I want when I’m laying on a beach. I love opening the pages and finding little flecks of sand from vacations past. It’s set in the 1950s and about an American girl in Paris who lives wildly and fully, and runs a muck. The main character Sally Jay Gorce is everything – a little Carrie Bradshaw, a little Holly Golightly, a lot of likable. One of my favs.”

“Where’d You Go Bernadette” by Maria Semple

“My friend, Benita, recommended this one to me and Sarah. B is an avid reader, and knows that during the summer it’s nice to escape with a book that just makes you laugh. Guffaw, even. This is that book.”

Gina’s Picks (as quoted by Gina):

“Rita Moreno, A Memoir” by Rita Moreno

“Because she’s a true flesh and blood goddess at whose altar I have worshipped, my entire life.” - Gina

“Doctor Sleep” by Stephen King

“I loved The Shining and love that Mr. King felt compelled to tell Danny Torrance’s story after all these years.”

“The Hotel on Place Vendome: Life, Death and Betrayal at the Hotel Ritz in Paris” by Tilar J. Mazzeo

“I love this hotel, and have had fantasies of going back in time, and being there when it was all new and exciting. I’m hoping this book will do that.”

Sarah’s Picks (as quoted by Sarah):

“The Goldfinch” by Donna Tarrt

“So I am reading The Goldfinch and likely will be reading it all summer since it’s almost 800 pages and I am a slowwwwww reader. It’s amazing, today’s Great Expectations.”

“Bittersweet” by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

“I recently finished this book. A summer page turner. Kinda Gone Girl -esque. I mentioned it to you Megs – my friend Molly told me about it, and I happened to not be able to put it down.”

“Prayers for the Stolen” by Jennifer Clement

“About an incredible heroine who is wrapped up in the world of drug cartels in Guerrero, Mexico. Sarah says: I have [this book] bedside, waiting for me.” And for summer reading with her daughter (AKA the sweetest tradition I can think of), Sarah shares the below:

“Oona and I do summer reading together—we did the abridged versions of “Anne of Green Gables” and “The Secret Garden” and she loved them. We started “The Tale of Despereaux” last week and I am in love with that little romantic mouse. Last summer “Wonder” was amazing and I would recommend it to kids and adults alike.”

#meghan markle #the tig #the tig archives #meghan markle books #gina torres #sarah rafferty #summer reading list #tigliving #tigbooks

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 31 Pt 1

The days following Sildie’s birthday passed with the usual pre Christmas rush, work, and kids. Sildie and Gustaf got caught up in the holiday spirit, buying presents, squaring away the legal paperwork, working out the logistics of moving. It was a little daunting for both of them. Then there was the Christmas party and dinner with his family Christmas Day. Out of the two, Sildie didn’t know which she was dreading the most. At least she was on vacation until the kids went back to school mid January and had the time to chew on it all. She needed this time with them, with Gustaf. The time to make sure the six of them could coexist together.

“I have some good news.” She said sitting down at the table with a fresh pot of tea after the kids had gone to bed.

“I like good news.” Gustaf smiled, and tugged her into his lap. “I like good news and you in my lap for Friday night tea dates.” He kissed the nape of her neck and lingered, the scent of her grounding him. They had reinstated their Friday night tea dates as a way to talk about anything and everything, a designated weekly vent and purge session. She’d missed them.

She reached over and grabbed her messenger bag and pulled it into her lap.

“No work.” He growled, and it wasn’t his usual playful tone. “You’re on vacation Sildie.” And he’d see that she’d get the rest and relaxation she needed.

“It’s not work. It’s my good news. Our paperwork came in today. Approved by your lawyer and mine, all we need to do is sign and I can file on Monday.” She said quietly, she still wasn’t sure this was actually happening.

“Get me a pen.” He said without hesitation and she chuckled as she held one up. She stopped him before he took the pen by gripping it tightly.

“Read it first. You know it as well as I do but read it before you sign, just in case.” She said gently. He was being rash and stupid and he knew better, read before you sign and read everything. Kissing her cheek he started to read.

“Just excited.” He mumbled. She leaned back as his arm came around her.

“I know you are but read first.” She sipped her tea and snuggled into him staring at the tree, all lit and sparkling. They were about to move in together, be a family. Her gaze rested on the digital frame that held a Christmas photo of when the twins were still babies. Quinn and Dana happy, the pang of grief echoed in her chest. Whatever it takes Quinn, she thought, I’ll see them all happy and cared for if I meet the same fate as you. Please don’t hate me for it, she said silently, he’d a good man.

After reading through it he signed the bottom and handed her the pen. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders once pen had been put to paper and her own signature had been placed next to his. The kids would be safe, whatever happened to her, they would be safe and cared for.

“Can I ask you something?” He said kissing her on the spot below her ear.

“Of course.”

“Move in with me?” He grinned against her skin as she chuckled. He felt suddenly alive and excited.

“Not wasting any time are you?” She laughed

“Fuck no.” He kissed her, long and slow. “I want to be in our bed. Move in with me.” He murmured.

“After Christmas. We have the party tomorrow and then dinner with your family. Boxing Day we can start moving.” She said softly. She was excited but it terrified her. They hadn’t told the kids yet, and what if they hated the idea.

“So that’s a yes?”

She giggled. “It’s a yes. Yes I’ll move in with you. Yes we can tell the kids. Yes to sleeping in our bed.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” He grinned kissing her hard. It was like all his Christmas’s had come early.

“Repeatedly.” She was smiling so hard her cheeks were hurting. “At least every hour.”

“Then to keep that winning streak going, I love you Sildie.”

“Sweet man I know you do.” She placed a hand on his chest over his heart. “I love you too.”

“You’re moving in with me.” He said quietly as if the thought hadn’t really sunk in yet, that shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“Yes I am.” She whispered. His kiss was other worldly, nothing short of mind blowing.

“Are you ok to sit with the kids tomorrow? I have some shopping to do that I didn’t get a chance to do last weekend.” She asked as she filed the legal paperwork back into her bag.

“Sure. What time’s the party again? Six right?”

“Yes, and you’re sure Bill is ok with all of them?”

“He offered. I was on the phone with Alice and overheard she was booked. I think Alida and Oona are coming over for a bit too, so Lily will have a playmate.”

“I need to make sure I have something nice for them.” She said as if making a mental shopping list of things to get and do tomorrow.

“No you don’t.” He said firmly.

“Gustaf.” She sighed.

“You don’t Sildie. He’s doing it because we’re family and because he wants to.” He said gently, it would take her a while to get used to that, to be able to depend on family without feeling guilty for it. “Let him help. The poor guy has been wanting a rematch with Finn on Mario cart anyway. He’s still in disbelief that he was bested by a seven year old.” He snickered.

“Is he ok with it being overnight?” She asked sipping her tea.

“He’s fine with it. He has all the details of the hotel and the party. Things will be fine.” He reassured her, and he’d have to do it again a thousand times over before leaving tomorrow night. He kissed her neck, lingering, tasting. “I know we’ve been busy as hell the past week or so, but I miss you.” He murmured, that low tone making her belly quiver as his hands roamed under her silk blouse to find the gorgeous black lace beneath. “I’ve missed touching you.”

Between her work schedule, court, and the kids Christmas parties with friends and school camp activities they’d had a dry spell. Then there was the legal paperwork and moving in, they were both a little stressed, a little anxious. Sex hadn’t even crossed her mind until just now.

She turned in his arms to straddle him. “It’s been a rollercoaster. So much crammed into each day, I’m fucking exhausted.” She chuckled.

“I feel much the same. I like being with the kids but it’s taking a bit to adjust.” His huffed laugh was humorous. “It’s full on, all the time with them. Will your work and court schedule get easier in the new year?”

“To a point, unless I take partner and then it’ll be much the same. Which reminds me.” She fished around in her bag again and handed him her legal pad. She had the most elegant writing he noticed. “Would you take a look at this? It’s my list for Oliver and I want to make sure it doesn’t sound too demanding or ungrateful.”

“Of course.” He kissed her. “You’re considering it.”

She shrugged. “Still on the fence. I need to get past Christmas and revisit it again once we’re all moved in with you. I need to see it with a clear head.” Her kiss was tender. “Things will change when you’re out of town and I want to be sure I can handle it.”

“You’ll have my family as backup.” He said softly and twirled the loose wave of hair around his finger. “And we can always book Alice to take the pressure off you. Or we can hire a housekeeper and or a nanny. You’re not alone anymore love. If I can’t be here physically to help then I’ll find another way.” He kissed her sweetly. “When are you going to give Oliver the list?”

“In the new year. I’ve already told him I need to get past the remainder of this year, especially with all the changes. He understands and partner isn’t something they want to rush into either, even though they want me to start yesterday.” Her chuckle made him smile.

“That’s a good plan. Can I read this tomorrow?” He asked as he glanced at the pad. “I don’t think I’ll comprehend much tonight.”

“Whenever, there’s no rush.” She kissed him sweetly, her hands wandering to dip into his sweats and stroke him.

“Sildie.” He breathed. “My Sildie.” His hands streaked up her thighs and pushed her skirt to bunch at her waist before his mouth took hers tenderly.

“I need you.” She whispered. “Right here, right now.” She kissed him, mouth hot and hungry. “I want to ride you.” He hooked her g string to the side as she slipped his tip along her wet heat.

”Take what you need love.” He murmured, mouth claiming hers roughly.

It was that soft cry as she impaled herself on his cock that always made him weak for her. She rode him slowly, his massive hands on her ass grinding her into him as he stretched her, filled her.

“So big.” She moaned as she threw her head back offering him her throat. Not wasting the opportunity he savaged it, her release cresting. “Gustaf.”

“Take me with you.” He groaned as he felt her body bow before she came hard, her pussy clenching him tightly as she rode him. “Sildie.” His breath caught as he held her onto him buried deep inside her as he came, spilling his seed.

“I love you.” She said softly, his face cupped in her hands. “So much.”

“I love you too.” He held her close as they caught their breath.

She yawned. “Sorry, now I’m beat to hell.” She chuckled.

“To bed love.” He said gently with a smile. “Big night tomorrow.” He leaned his forehead against hers.

“I’m still not too keen on going.” She huffed, but she also wanted to get it over and done with so she could move on.

“I know, but I’ll be there. We can get the business end done and then enjoy a night out.” He kissed her slow, lingering to take it deeper as she relaxed.

“It’s not the dedication that’s freaking me out, it’s all the people coming up afterward to tell me how sorry they are, or stories of his time in court. I don’t know if I can handle it all being shoved in my face all night. Sorry I’m rambling and...” She closed her eyes and took a calming breath as his lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering to help her find that calm she desperately needed.

“Will there be dancing?” He asked against her skin, hopeful.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll just dance with you for the rest of the night so they can’t talk to you.” He smiled.

“That’s not a bad plan.” She looked at him, kissing him quickly. “It beats getting shit faced and blubbering in your lap outside my front door.” She grinned at the memory.

“And we have a room in case it gets too much and you need to get the hell out of there.” He had created a safety bubble for her. A quiet space where she could retreat to because he knew at some point tomorrow night a panic attack was highly likely. “Speaking of a room. Bedroom, let’s go, because I need some damn sleep too.” He laughed. Lily had decided that 5 am was her new wake up time regardless of the holiday season and for the past week Gustaf’s sleep had been cut short. He’d made sure Bill was ok with the kids for most of Sunday because he was getting a damn sleep in after the party.

She curled into him and plummeted into sleep, exhaustion and relief that there was no work to rush off to for a few weeks taking her under hard. She’d been better since getting past her birthday. The grief was still there but it seemed manageable, like she’d turned a corner and was able to exist without it constantly consuming her. He was slightly worried that it would rear its ugly head in spectacular fashion at either the party tomorrow or with his family, he’d prefer it to be with the latter. They at least would understand and she’d have the space to distance and collect herself if needed. It felt like a ticking time bomb just waiting for her guard to be down before blowing up in her face again.

His own anxiety was a little high too, she was moving in. He wanted her with him, in their bed, under one roof, comfortable, as a family. It did not negate the fact that it was scary as hell, especially if the kids hated the idea. He’d dropped a few questions to feel them out, what they were thinking and they seemed like they’d be ok with it. He was hoping the work he’d done on their rooms made it easier. Sleep took him a little while later and it felt like he’d only just passed out when Lily was up chattering to them.

“Morning little lady.” He slurred, the cobwebs of sleep still addling his brain.

“I’ll get her.” Sildie mumbled and stretched out on top of him before kissing him sweetly. “Go back to sleep love.” She murmured. “You’ve had her and her crazy ass wake up schedule for the past week.”

“K.” He breathed and sleep took him under again.

Sildie changed a somewhat grumpy Lily and headed out to make some tea. “Well little lady if you’d just sleep longer you wouldn’t be such a grumpy pants.” She chuckled, snuggling her in and kissing her head. She would let Gustaf sleep, the man had been up with the kids and keeping them occupied for nearly two weeks while she’d been plowing through work and a mentally taxing court case. She felt a little guilty for leaving the house and kids for him to deal with and knew it wasn’t a habit she could fall into. She never forgive herself if she took advantage of him, or made him feel like she was.

Once Brendan had surfaced she left Lily with him cuddled on the couch and took a shower, Gustaf was still out cold. After spending most of the morning with the boys, she changed Lily and sat of the edge of the bed.

“Dad dad dad. Sooch.” Lily said softly.

“Time for dad dad kisses huh?” She set Lily down on the bed and stroked a hand down his chest. He snapped awake with a sharp inhale and blinked at her.

“It’s eleven love.” She said gently as he looked around wondering where the hell he was.

“Shit I didn’t mean to sleep that late.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry I know you have shopping to do.”

“It’s ok you needed it.”

“Dad dad.” Lily squealed and his low chuckle made her smile.

“Hello Lily bear.” He said and lifted her up the bed to kiss the tiny girl before snuggling her in.

“Would you like some tea?”

“I would, but first.” He tugged her hand and she chuckled as she curled up with him. “My two best girls.” He murmured, the familiar sentiment choking her up. Damn it she thought, she couldn’t get emotional now, she’d never get through the night. His kiss chased that thought away, slow and loving. “Morning my love.”

“Morning.”

“You heading out shopping?”

“I’ll make you some tea first, but yes I’m about to try and do shopping.”

“Brave girl.” He chuckled. “It’ll be madness.”

“Yes but I have stuff to get.” Like for tonight, she thought. She had her dress, she just needed the underwear. And she had a plan for that underwear. She kissed him tenderly and got up to make a pot of tea.

Gustaf came out carrying Lily as she set the teapot on the table to steep for him. Her belly did a little flip at his disheveled look, all soft, warm and rumpled, still half asleep. Damn she wanted to go back to bed and snuggle with him, do erotic things to him.

“Bye love, have fun.” He kissed her softly as she grabbed her bag and left for a few hours. She’d done most of her Christmas shopping online and had them wrapped and under the tree, but needed stuff for tonight, something for Bill and something for his parents even though Gustaf had said it wasn’t necessary. For him it wasn’t, for her however, she needed to, she couldn’t turn up empty handed.

Gustaf goofed around with the kids, he’d shower before they went out tonight, but it was nice to just have a pajama day. It was relaxed and carefree, and he’d noticed that the kids had settled since he’d been staying in the apartment with them the past month or so. That was a good sign he thought, moving next door may not be as emotional or stressful.

Sildie came home around 3:30, arms full of bags. Some of it was wrapped and the kids were more than happy to place it under the tree, shaking boxes as they went to try and determine what she’d purchased.

“You look like you had fun.” He chuckled, taking one of the bags from her hand and placing it on the table before kissing her.

“I did actually. But now I have to get ready, go get my Christmas glam on.” She kissed him chastely.

“Do you want to do that here or in our room?” He asked.

“Here. All my stuff is here.” She said quietly.

“Ok, Bill texted and he’ll be here at five or so.” He kissed her tenderly. “Once you’re out of the shower I’ll go home and take one and bring my monkey suit back here.”

“Sounds good. I’ll need help with my dress at some point.” She said wickedly.

“I think I can help you with that.” He winked at her as she took her bags to her room and disappeared.

In all honestly he loved the way Sildie looked with no makeup and in sweats but he couldn’t help but fantasize what she would look like all dolled up. He went home and showered, grabbed his tux and headed back to Sildie’s in clean sweats. He didn’t want to have to put it on until the last minute. Bill arrived just after five and he sat talking to him until Sildie called out.

“Gustaf? Can you come help me please.” She called from her room.

Nothing prepared him for the sight of her in black lace and deep Christmas red heels. He shut the door and leaned on it, pinning his hands against it with his ass.

“Fuck me.” He choked and her giggle was wicked. She walked to him slowly and he shook his head. “Nope. Kitten if you touch me we aren’t going anywhere except to our bed.” He growled.

“You’ll just have to control yourself.” She purred. “Remember on my birthday when you said you wanted to see me in black lace and heels and that blindfold, tied to our bed?”

“I remember.” His voice strained, he was close to blowing his load in his fucking sweats like a teenager.

“Looks like Santa got your message. I don’t want to stay overnight at the hotel, I want to come home to our bed.” She walked her blood red nails up his chest and stroked one over his jaw. “I want you to do things to me.” She purred and kissed him sinfully. “All night long.”

He was struck speechless. He’d never had someone that played this game so fucking well.

“Cat got your tongue?” She smirked, those ice blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“My kitten has.” He growled and her seductive chuckle make his cock twitch. “Fuck I love playing this game with you.” He breathed as she leaned a palm on his chest and kissed him.

“You need to get dressed.” She purred and palmed his erection making him groan.

“So do you or I’m going to fuck you where you stand kitten.” He growled.

“Patients daddy.” She breathed, nipping his bottom lip before sashaying over to where her dress was hanging.

He stood there and breathed, willing his cock to calm down at the mention of her endearment for him. It was difficult considering the vision in front of him. Black lace corset, g string, suspenders, lace top thigh high stocking with a red seam running up the back of those incredible pins she called legs. The red heels were four inches so they would be the same height tonight, and screamed fuck me.

She stepped into the dusty gold column sheath dress and wiggled her hips to get it on. A simple cut, figure hugging, plunging neckline, thigh high split. Modest for a formal party, devilish enough to tease Gustaf all night. She felt him stand behind her and help zip her up and secure the clasp for the deep Christmas red sash that cinched her waist and draped to the floor with the rest of the skirt. He rested his hands on her hips and kissed her neck seductively.

“You do realize I’m going to need a defense lawyer after tonight.” He said softly as he started to dress.

“Why’s that?” She asked a little confused, walking back to the bathroom to touch up her makeup and apply the 24 hour deep siren red lipstick she’d bought as a why the hell not.

“Because I’m going to have to kill every man in the room that looks at you.” He smirked pulling his tux pants on and zipping them up.

“I hope we can get a two for one deal then.” She huffed.

“Why?” He chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked it in.

She stood in front of him and ran a nail down those buttons, half tempted to strip him naked and take him in her mouth.

“Because you’re fucking royalty for one.” She scoffed. He watched her as she tied his bow tie, that bottom lip sinfully red and beckoning to him. “And every woman there is going to want you, I’m going to have to beat them off with a stick.”

He chuckled at her words and her smirk tugged the corners of her mouth. “I love you Sildie.” He said softly. “You’re the only one I want.”

“I know. You’re the only one I want too.” She kissed him, his brain melted as her tongue teased his. “Seeing you in this makes me all tingly.” She moaned biting her bottom lip.

He gripped her by the chin gently and teased his thumb over her bottom lip before kissing it, slowly. “Mine.” He growled, his eyes met hers as her pussy tingled at the possessive tone. “Are you ready to go kitten?” The intimacy swamping them both.

“Yes.” She choked breathlessly.

“Let’s get the business end of it done. Then...” He kissed her longingly. “Then kitten, I’m going to do all kinds of delicious things to you.” His low tone caused and involuntary shiver to ripple across her body. “Mmm, you like the sound of that don’t you.” It was a statement more than a question. The man was able to bewitch her with his words, his tone.

“Mmm hmmm.” She was already drunk on him. “You smell so good.” She purred. He kissed her again before pulling away, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Let’s go lovely lady.” He chuckled, sitting to slip his shoes on. Standing he held out his hand for her, his gilded goddess, her halo of molten copper cascading down her spine. And that dress was something else entirely and he knew what was hidden under it. That was going to be fucking torture all night, he thought, the little minx.

Bill almost choked on his drink when Sildie came out, the boys all standing around gobsmacked.

“Piddy.” Lily squealed pointing at Sildie from the safety of Bill’s arms.

“Yes little lady, she is very pretty.” Gustaf said and kissed her until she giggled.

“You’re sure you’re ok with this lot?” Sildie asked, still a little nervous as Liam hugged her.

“More than ok, besides I have a rematch with Finn to take care of.” He grinned. “Have fun. I’ll text you if I run into any issues.”

“Thanks again Bill. You bailed me out.”

“Anytime, they’re great kids.” His grin told her he was having just as much fun as the kids were.

Gustaf helped her into her coat and the pair set out for the hotel. She was nervous, her hands wringing in her lap as he drove was a dead giveaway. He took a hold of her hand and brought it to his lips kissing her fingers. “Just breathe love. I’ll be right here, all night.”

“Sorry.” She chuckled. “I’m on edge.”

“As expected.” He pulled up to the hotel and looked at her. “Deep breath. Together love, you and me.” He kissed her fingers again and stepped out of the car to walk around and open the door for her. Holding his hand out, he helped her to her feet, the top of her stockings peeking out from the split. Fuck me he thought, she would be the death of him. Giving the keys to the valet he slipped a hand around her waist and held her to him. “Breathe.” He said, lips at her temple. “Let the lawyer surface and take care of business.” He kissed her cheek sweetly and looked at her, his courtroom lawyer looked back. “There’s my girl.” He growled as they walked into the hotel ballroom. “I’m proud of you. You’re so fucking strong.” He kissed her, not caring who could see them. She was moving in with him, he loved her, and he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

Her firm had spared no expense, and there were tables for at minimum 300 people. The room had a massive dance floor and stage, blue and silver glittered everywhere to turn it into a winter wonderland. Snowflakes and fairy lights, fresh flower centerpieces and silk festoons.

Gustaf took her coat and he felt his arousal spike again at seeing her, his gilded goddess on the outside, his erotic sex kitten beneath. They were met by Oliver and swept up into the throng of introductions and small talk. For Gustaf working a room was second nature, it was just like a press junket, but for Sildie it was anxiety central and to compound matters her grief was hovering waiting to pounce. Thankfully Oliver had kept them moving quickly before he could be too overwhelmed with people figuring out there was a celebrity in the house. It was one of the downsides of his chosen profession. He didn’t want that overshadowing the party, he was just along for the ride, to support Sildie.

“I owe you one Oliver.” He said as Sildie stepped away from him to talk to Dana’s partner in family law.

“How’s that?”

“For shielding me.” He chuckled.

“Thank Sildie. She sent a memo to everyone before tonight and talked to me specifically. She wanted you to feel comfortable with her family.” He smiled.

The penny dropped, this was her family, the only one she had left now that Quinn was gone.

“Ah! I see she didn’t forewarn you.” He said quietly.

“No, she didn’t.” He said wistfully, looking at the gorgeous woman just out of reach, he found his fingers itched to touch her. “She’s had a lot on her mind.”

“It’s none of my business, but I’m glad she has you, glad the kids have you.” Oliver said carefully, not wanting to overstep.

“I’m so ridiculously in love with her.” Gustaf said shyly. “And she’d kill me for telling you that.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I know the feeling.” He said looking at his husband of six years.

Oliver hesitated. “Is she doing alright?” He asked gently. “I don’t like to pry it’s not my business, but I think of her as my own daughter and she’s been through hell.”

“She’s doing better.” Gustaf said quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on Sildie. “Her grief and guilt is substantial.” He didn’t want to divulge her painful moments, it was none of anyone’s business and he wouldn’t betray Sildie’s trust by spilling it to her boss, father figure or not.

“I can only imagine.”

“I’m sorry Oliver I can’t elaborate. Her grief is her own story to tell.” Gustaf said gently, trying to be as polite as possible.

“I completely understand and apologize if that put you in an awkward position. We all felt the loss, no one more keenly that Sildie.”

“She’s doing better, so are the kids. I love her Oliver, and I’ll move the world to see her and the kids happy.” He said, feeling a need to make his intentions known.

“You’re a good man Gustaf.” Oliver said as Sildie walked back to them with Elsa.

“I’m trying.” He huffed a chuckle.

“Your past is just that, the past. We all have one and we’re all far from perfect.” Oliver held out his hand for the man walking over with Elsa slipping it around his waist and kissing him as Sildie introduced Gustaf to Dana’s partner in law.

By the time they were asked to sit for dinner he’d been introduced to probably half the room. Pulling the chair out for Sildie he had to contain his groan of disappointment, Lucas and his date had made their way over to their table.

His entire system froze as his gaze landed on her, the quick polite smile on Lucas’s lips as his eyes focused on Gustaf. The familiar prickle and wave of heat as his fight flight response kicked in at seeing a threat. You vindictive asshole, Gustaf thought silently. Throwing his sobriety and addiction in Sildie’s face was one thing, but an ex girlfriend, that was just cruel.

Sildie sat and saw where his gaze had landed.

“Hey.” She said softly and his eyes snapped to hers, concerned ice blue looked back.

“Hey back.” He smiled, he would not let this asshole get to him and ruin her night. He’d promised to be on his best behavior around Lucas and although tempting as it was to stalk over there and press his fist to his face repeatedly in an abrupt manner, Gustaf knew how much it would embarrass Sildie, she’d never forgive him.

“You ok?” She asked gently. Something was up she could feel it.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting Lucas to be at our table.” He shrugged, trying not to let the woman sitting next to Lucas get under his skin either. He wouldn’t think her name, he wouldn’t say her name, she was just a blip in his life.

“Gustaf I’m sorry, I should have told you.” She said apologetically. “There’s been so much going on I forgot.”

“It’s fine love. I just don’t want him upsetting you, especially.” He let himself get lost in her for a moment, calming the white hot rage at the man across the table by running his fingers through her hair, watching it shine.

“Let me handle him. He’s just bitter and jealous.” She said quietly trying to contain her own irritation. She’d tried to get him to sit at another table but in the act of goodwill toward all men she’d let it slide, now she wished she hadn’t.

“Of what?” He chuckled softly.

“Of you love.” She kissed him tenderly, she needed to set his mind at ease. “You have the one thing he wants, the one thing he’s never going to get.” Her kiss was sultry, that hot seduction burning him from the inside out.

“I love it when you kiss me like that.” He grinned.

“I know. I’ll handle him if it comes to that, ok?”

“I know you will, but if he upsets you like the last time.” He toyed with a wave of hair she’d meticulously curled just for him. “We will have words.” His tone was unmistakably equal parts, protective and possessive. “Tonight is difficult enough for you, I won’t see him, or anyone for that matter, make it worse.”

“Fair enough, no punching him, no making a scene.” She said seriously, she didn’t need them getting into a fist fight over her in the middle of the office Christmas party. “Remember, I still have to be able to show my face in court with everyone in this room.” She said flatly, the lawyer had surfaced and was in complete control.

“I’ll only need words love. I promise I won’t do anything to embarrass you or lay a finger on him.” He kissed her tenderly not giving a shit who saw, especially Lucas, especially his ex. Lucas was the one with a problem, not him and he wouldn’t jeopardize what he had with Sildie over a few snide remarks and bringing his ex to a party. He would just ignore them, in his mind they weren’t here, he had other things to worry about.

Dinner was exceptional and she found herself enjoying the time to catch up with Elsa. She couldn’t help but flick a glance to Lucas’s date, she looked oddly familiar. They hadn’t met but she’d seen the woman somewhere before and it was irritating not to be able to place her.

As dessert hit the table she felt Gustaf’s finger stroking her thigh where the split in her dress had revealed silk lace and bare skin. His touch both calmed and aroused her. She smirked at his soft tone as he talked with Vera. The poor girl was beyond it, her voice meek and shaky as she spoke to the Scandinavian god beside her.

“Stop breaking my admin.” She whispered and Gustaf chuckled as Oliver took the stage.

“Just making small talk. She’s a good kid and very shy.” He said kissing her temple. “Deep breath love.” He murmured, his lips lingering. “Together, you and me.” His words grounded her as Oliver started speaking.

It was the usual spiel, the recap of the year, the high and lows, achievements and gains. “Tonight we start a new tradition.” He said gently and his gaze fell on Sildie. She felt her gut plummet as he continued. This was it she thought, just sit and get through it, you just have to listen and smile. “Tonight we honor the tireless work of two of our greatest attorneys, their lives and careers cut short, their compassion and humanity greatly missed.”

Gustaf stayed where he was, his hand on her thigh, an arm casually around her shoulder, his lips at her temple. He’d felt her tense, her body preparing to take flight the moment she was pushed, the moment her anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. “Easy kitten.” He growled, the tone and endearment enough to snap her out of it, her breath shuddering out. “Breathe love, I’m right here.”

“Dana excelled at family law, courageously fighting for the rights of families, mother and father, and most importantly children. Quinn was the complete opposite.” The room chuckled, including Sildie. “Quinn O’Rourke was ruthless in the courtroom, an adversary many of us here tonight faced on a daily basis. Although ruthless and stubborn, a man that could skewer holes in defense counsels case like Swiss cheese while he was prosecuting, Quinn held the same beliefs, the same compassion as Dana when defending. A rare soul that believed there was always some goodness left in a person if you took the time to look.”

He heard Sildie choke back a breath at Oliver’s words and gently squeezed her thigh. “I’m here love, you’re ok.” He whispered and kissed her temple. “Deep breath.”

“The Swedish Bar Association, in recognition of Dana and Quinn’s commitment to justice have founded an achievement award for exemplary conduct by an attorney inside the courtroom in their honor. To be awarded to someone that shows the same tenacity and compassion, the same humanity and dignity toward others as they showed, in the pursuit of justice.”

That just described Sildie to perfection, Gustaf thought silently.

“It was therefore only fitting that the first recipient to harness these qualities of such a prestigious award be Quinn’s sister, Sildie O’Rourke.”

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

#gustaf skarsgard #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction #shattered lives

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