#but also i ordered this morning. a book ive been trying to get forever

[abrakophile]

I was looking through a bunch of junk and found some letters from my dad when he was in the army. I’m afraid I'll accidently toss them, so maybe I’ll put them here?

OPs Name JUNE 02 03

I LOVE YOU

THIS IS MY NAME IN KURDISH

*my dad wrote his first and last name, and under it, in Kurdish*

ILL TRY AND FIND OUT HOW TO WRITE YOUR NAME AND MOMS TOO.

ITS STILL HOT. I WORK AND READ BOOKS TO PASS THE TIME AWAY.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? GOOD I HOPE. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? DO YOU EVER HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS? TELL THEM I SAID “WASSUP?” NAH, DONT TELL THEM. TELL ME WHAT YOUR THINKING. I’M TRYING TO SEND YOU SOME MORE OF MY DRAWINGS. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DRAW YOU? DID YOU LIKE THE DRAWING I SENT YOU OF YOU NAME? ITS ALRIGHT IF YOU DIDNY. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DO WANT ME TO DRAW YOU.

(Flip Page)

THIS IS WEIRD! (The page does not have lines on the left side of it) i WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS PIECE OF PAPER. HaHa

I MISS YOU ALOT. PLEASE SOND ME SOME MORE OF YOUR DRAWINGS, YOU CAN DRAW ME ANYTHING YOU WANT TO.

ARE YOU BEING GOOD FOR YOUR MOM? ITS NICE IF YOU HELP HER OUT WHILE I’M AWAY.

HAVE YOU BEEN ANYPLACE NEW? HOW IS SCHOOL GOING FOR YOU? IS MOMMY GOING TO SCHOOL? I KNOW I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I GET BACK. HOPEFULLY I GET THE CHANCE TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THERE IS TO KNOW. THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

ALSO, ID LIKE TO DO SOME FISHING? HOW ABOUT YOU? I GUESS ILL END HERE. BE GOOD AND STAY IN SCHOOL. AND JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS.

THEYRE BAD.

I LIVE YOU OP

*hearts and x’s* DADDY

---

(I don’t know if all these pages are in order or if it’s missing any, but this was the letter in the same stack as the last but this one was for my mom. In some places his indents indicate passage of time.)

I HAVENT HAD ANY TIME TO WRITE SINCE WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE CAN’T SEND MAIL WHEN WE’RE MOVING ALL THE TIME.

WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR ABOUT FIVE OR SIX DAYS, I HAVENT REALLY BEEN COUNTING. I KNOW I TOLD YOU THAT WE’D BE IN KUWAIT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT WAS SO YOU WOULDNT BE WORRIED. I’M GOING TO KEEP THIS LETTER THOUGH, TILL I GET HOME.

ABOUT TWO NIGHTS AGO, WE DROVE THROUGH BAGDHAD, SOMEBODY SAID THAT THERE WERE PILED BODIES, I DONT KNOW IF IT WAS TRUE.

AND I GUESS YESTERDAY, A COUPLE OF PEOPLE SAID THEY SAW A MISSILE OR SOEMTHING SHOT AT US. I WAS TRYING TO FIX A TRUCK SO I DIDNT SEE IT.

ITS NOT AS DUSTY HERE IN IRAQ. IT REMINDS ME OF THE CONVOYS IN KOREA.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE WILL WAVE “HI”. SOME OTHERS DONT.

I SAW A KID OPEN HIS HAND ONCE WHILE MOVING, AND IT SAID “BUSH” THAT WAS KIND OF COOL.

OH YEAH. HERES A STORY. WHILE OUT DOING A MISSION, ONE OF OUR “BRADLEY” TANKS FIRED ON AN ENEMY AMMO TRUCK AND CLIPPED A KID. THE ROUNDS BLEW ONE OF HIS LEGS OFF AND SOME OF THE OTHER, FROM THE KNEE DOWN. SO THE MEDICS PICKED HIM UP AND BROUGHT HIM TO OUR RECONCOLIDATING POINT FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. I GUESS HE EVENTUALLY DIED FROM LOSS OF BLOOD THE NEXT NIGHT AND YESTERDAY THEY TOOK HIM OUT AND BURIED HIM.

ALSO WE PICKED UP ABOUT 25-30 P.O.W.s AND SENT THEM SOUTH.

IT GETS PRETTY COLD AT NIGHT. AND THE DAY’S ARE VERY HOT.

SINCE WE LEFT KUWAIT ITS BEEN ME AND MENDOZA IN THE FIVE TON WRECKER AND I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT ITS BEEN EXCITING. WE KEPT GETTING SEPERATED FROM THE CONVOY AND BREAKING DOWN. BUT I THINK THAT WERE BETTER NOW. HOPEFULLY.

IM STILL WAITING TO BE AMBUSHED TO MAKE ALL THIS SEEM REAL TO ME. A PART OF ME WANTS IT AND ANOTHER DOESNT.

AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY OUR UNIT HAS TO STAY IN UNIFORM, EVERYONE ELSE WEARS T-SHIRTS AND BANDENA’S AND RAGS ON THEIR HEAD

WERE STILL GOING NORTH. NOBODY KNOWS HOW LONG WE’LL STAY. ITS NOT THAT BAD HERE. MEANING, IT COULD BE WORSE. 

I USED A “SHIT-CHAIR”. ITS JUST A METAL CHAIR WITH A HOLE CUT IN THE MIDDLE AND THE SEAT FROM A TOILET BOLTED TO IT, GROSS.

HELICOPTERS CAN BE HEARD ALL DAY AND NIGHT. I GOT TO SEE THEM DROP BOMBS ALL DAY ABOUT 3 DAYS AGO, FROM A DISTANCE OF COURSE.

ILL BE DRIVING AGAIN, IN A MINUTE. PROBABLY RE-FUEL AND BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN. IM ENJOYING IT.

I HAVE 8 MAGAZINES FULL OF ROUNDS. NO GRENADES, BUT I LIKE IT LIKE THAT.

SOMETIMES IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT.

I GUESS ILL END IT HERE FOR NOW

I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TWO TWICE IF NOT THRICE AS MUCH AS YOU MIGHT MISS ME TOO.

HELLO AGAIN. WERE SOMEWHERE NEAR TIKRI + MOSUL. YESTERDAY, ME + MENDOZA WENT LOOKING FOR MOMENTO’S. WE BROKE A LOCK TO A NEAR BY BUNKER AND FOUND 6 A.K.47s! BUT ON OUR WAY BACK TO TURN THEM IN, MAJOR TATU GOT THEM FROM US. I WAS SO PISSED. BUT I GOT A GAS MASK w/ FILTER, A FULL MAGAZINE CLIP FROM ONE OF THE A.K.s AND A BERET WITH IRAQ 1 RANK ON IT.

I MADE A STENCIL FOR THE TRUCK WERE RIDING IN. ITS CALLED THE “GAMBLER.” YESTERDAY MENDOZA DROVE, SO TODAY ILL BE DRIVING.

IM NOT POSITIVE, BUT, I THINK WERE GOING TO TURKEY. NIETO SAYS THAT HE OVERHEARD SOMEBODY FROM S1 (or SI, I’m not sure) SAYING WE MIGHT GET PAID EXTRA FOR GOING THROUGH BAGHDAD.

I THINK NIETO’S MAD AT ME. CANT EXPLAIN WHY. MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM RIDING WITH MENDOZA AND HE DOESNT LIKE MENDOZA TOO MUCH. OH WELL, WHATEVER REASON, HOPE THINGS GET NORMAL AGAIN. HAVE TO GO,

*hearts and xs*

TODAY IS THE 25th OF APRIL, I RECEIVED FIVE OR SIX (OR SEVEN) LETTERS YESTERDAY. THE LATEST WAS DATED 07 OF APRIL. THAT TELLS ME THAT ITS GOING TO TAKE A WHILE TO COMMUNICATE.

WE HAVENT RECEIVED MAIL BECAUSE WEVE BEEN MOVING NEVER STAYING IN ONE PLACE MORE THAN A DAY, OR TWO, UNTIL NOW. WE’VE BEEN IN THIS SPOT GOING ON FOUR DAYS TOMORROW?!

GIVE ME A MINUTE...

FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS IVE BEEN HELPING MENDOZA PULL THE ENGINE OUT OF A 5 TON TRUCK AND SWITCH IT w/ ANOTHER ONE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY BUT THE FLY WHEEL SEIZED UP INSIDE THE BELL HOUSING. ITS FINISHED NOW AND THE RUMOR IS WE’RE LEAVING  (OR MOVING) AGAIN TOMORROW.

ITS 10:33 THURSDAY MORNING. YOUR TIME IS 12:32 JUST TURNING THURSDAY.

I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I SAW ELIS PICTURE. I REALLY MISS BOTH OF YOU. LET ME BACK TO BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SEND MAIL BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN MOVING. BUT I GUESS THAT WHATEVER THREAT THERE WAS (IF ANY), ISNT SO THREATFUL ANYMORE, WE CAN START RECEIVING AND SENDING MAIL. NO PHONE TO CALL FROM, AND NO INTERNET TO E-MAIL FROM.

THE WHOLE UNIT IS SCATTERED, SO EVEN IF I GET WHAT YOU NEED IT’LL TAKE FOREVER TO GET IT TO YOU. LET ME PULL THOSE LETTERS BACK OUT. OH WAIT. I DID LAUNDRY AND SOME UNDERWEAR THATS DRY, FELT HARD, OH WELL, WAIT A SECOND, K

I HAD TO FOLD SOME T-SHIRTS. ALL MY SOCKS ARE STILL DAMP. 

YOU CAN USE MY CONTRACT TO SHOW THAT I ENLISTED IN TEXAS AND HOWS THIS

*On a separate sheet my dad wrote a detailed note for my mom to give to someone to confirm that he did want to buy a house. He writes “I AM ALIVE AND WELL.” and “PLEASE ACCEPT THIS PAPER”, then he signed it with his scribble signature, and underneath it wrote his name in print and added “1st SQUADRON 10th CAVALRY HEADQUARTERS TROOP (I have no clue what this means)*

HOW’S THAT? HOPE I SPELLED EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. IM ALMOST READY WITH A DESIGN TO COVER THE OTHER TATTOOS ON MY LEFT FOREARM.

I JUST FINISHED LOOKING OVER ALL THOSE LETTERS YOU SENT FOR ME

IM BACK! I GOT SLEEPY SO I TRYED TO LAY DOWN FOR A LITTLE BIT. NO SLEEP. I DONT THINK. I DIDNT HAVE ENOUGH WATER TO WASH MY DCV’S AND A PAIR OF BDV’S. BESIDES FOR DRINKING WATER, BUT WE HAVE TO CONSERVE IT.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE RUMORS. TOMORROW WE’LL BE LEAVING FOR THE IRAN/IRAQ BORDER TO DO “PEACE KEEPING” FOR 3 TO 6 mths. OTHERS SAY THAT THE 4ID (i think is what this says) GENERAL WANTS TO KEEP US HERE TILL NOV., THATS WHEN 1 CAV WILL COME TO REPLACE US. WHILE OTHERS SAY WE MIGHT LEAVE BY JUNE. NOTHINGS FOR SURE.

SMALLER RUMORS FLOATING AROUND THE SITE ARE; RAMSEY AND SFC BACON ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER. SGT SIREK HAS PLANS TO TAKE NIETO AS HIS APPRENTICE AND PADIWAN LEARNER OF THE DARK SIDE. LITTLE BLACK ARNOLD IS MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FOR SPECIAL FORCES OPERATING UNDER COVER A SURVEILLENCE AS PART OF

*the rest of the page is blank*

IM BACK. TODAY IS THE 27th. I GOT BACK TO THE LITTLE CAMP AREA ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. I LEFT YESTERDAY MORNING TO, WELL, AS PART OF DE-CON (DE-CONTAMINATION) MISSION. HERES THE INFORMATION THAT I GATHERED.

A SITE HAD BEEN FOUND THAT WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE CHEMICAL WEAPONS AND 1-10 WAS APPOINTED TO GO TO THE SITE AND DE-CON THE CIVILIANS THAT WERE GOING TO OPEN THEM. AS IT TURNS OUT THE CIVILIANS HAVE BEEN DE-LAYED AND WOULD BE SET BACK 1 DAY.

THE NBC TEAM THAT I WAS WITH WERENT PREPARED TO STAY OVER NIGHT AND AS FORCASTED BY SSG MINOR WE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO STAY 3 TO 4 DAYS. EVERYBODY WAS PISSED.

LATELY ITS BEEN GETTING REALLY COLD AT NIGHT AND WE JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEAR A RUNNING RIVER. SO THE, ITS ABOUT 9 O’CLOCK AND IM BEAT, NO SLEEPING BAG OR ANYTHING TO COVER UP WITH AND I DECIDE TO TRY AND SLEEP. I GET AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE AND I GET ATTACKED BY MOSQUITOS. NOW IM PISSED SO I DECIDED TO JUST TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT. ABOUT 10PM ONE OF THE HEMTT (this might just say “hemi”, I don’t know) FUELERS SHOWS UP AND SGT TORRES SAYS HE HAS EVERYBODYS SLEEPING BAG! THE SITES ABOUT 45 MINS AWAY AND THEY LEFT SOMETIME MID AFTERNOON TO GET OUR SHIT, I HATE THESE PEOPLE.

RIGHT NOW ITS 9:01 PM AND ITS 11:02 AM YOUR TIME. I MISS YOU.

RIGHT NOW IM GOING TO ADDRESS AN ENVELOPE AND HAVE IT READY TO SEND TOMMOROW THE 28th. IM SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT IM NOT WRITING VERY OFTEN. FOR A WHILE WE COULDN’T. AND NOW THAT IT SEEMS WE MIGHT BE HERE A LITTLE WHILE, THEYVE KEPT ME REALLY BUSY. LET ME ADDRESS THE ENVELOPES (he drew a star here)

ALL DONE. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE A LOT TODAY AND YESTERDAY. IM SURE BY THE TIME THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, YOU’LL HAVE EITHER GOTTEN IT OR GAVE IT UP. IM O.K. WITH EITHER DECISION YOUVE MADE.

YOUVE KEPT THIS FAMILY TOGETHER, AND THAT MAKES ME PROUD. YOUR SMART, ATTRACTIVE AND FUNNY. AND YOU DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM ANYBODY. I LOVE YOU.

I HOPE THAT OUR DAUGHTER TURNS OUT TO BE LIKE YOU.

I GUESS ILL MAIL THIS TOMORROW, FIRST THING, SO

EVER YOURS

EVER MINE

*my dad signed it with his scribble, and wrote his name under it. under that are hearts and x’s with my mom’s name and then my name under hers.*

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Trials of Emi

Pairing: A little Minho. A sprinkle of Frypan. Gally x Emi(OC)

Summary: Emi, her twin brother Thomas, and a small group of gladers had been rescued and taken to a safe haven. Or so it seemed. It doesn't take long for Thomas to realize something is wrong. What happens next is a true trial for all of them but Emi's trials began the moment she was ripped away from a dying Gally. Watching someone you love die right before your eyes truly takes a toll.

Finally meeting the right arm could have been the end but betrayal leads to even more chaos and loss. A new mission to rescue those taken from them leads them to a city. The last city. After Emi finally comes to terms with everything that's happened something unfolds that changes everything again. She will have to not only deal with helping her brother take down WCKD and save their friend but also deal with all the new problems in her head and her heart.

Rating: As of right now it’s at most PG13. Some strong language that’s about it but it could change.

(This is the 2nd part/book to my other story "The Maze trials: A Gally Fanfiction". This will cover the events of the scorch trails and the death cure.)

Chapter Sixteen

We followed Gally through the crowded building. Thomas was walking next to him with Newt and Brenda right behind them. Fry and I were the next in line. Fry was still holding my hand to keep me next to him. Jorge pulled up the rear behind us.

"After the maze, I got picked up by a group headed to the city. They realized I was immune, patched me up, and brought me here to Lawrence. His troops have been at war with WCKD ever since they took control of the city. WCKD can't hide behind those walls forever. The day's gonna come and their gonna pay for what they've done." Gally explained as we walked.

We stopped at the end of the hall we were in. Gally turned to face us.

"Listen, uh, he doesn't get a lot of visitors. So, let me do the talking alright? Try not to stare." Gally said then turned to walk again.

We followed behind him to the end of this hall then down a set of stairs into what looked like some kind of living area. Two men were standing at the end of the room by some homemade garden.

"Gally, glad to see you made it back. Jasper told me about what happened." One of the men said.

He seemed to be playing with a flower. He was hooked to some kind of wire that was attached to a metal pole on wheels.

"It was a slaughter. There's nothing we could do against those guns." Gally told the man.

"No, but they can only poke the hornet's nest so long before they get stung. Who are these people? Why are they here?" The man asked without looking at any of us.

"We need to get into WCKD. Gally said you can get us threw the walls." Thomas stepped forward to stand next to Gally.

"Gally should know better than make promises he can't keep. Besides, that wall is only half your problem. Getting inside WCKD is impossible." The man said.

"There might be a way now. It doesn't work without Thomas." Gally said.

"Is that so?" The man asked turning towards us.

His face was still hidden from the light streaming through the windows behind him. He walked forward toward Thomas. The light hit his face. I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping. He was a crank. At least he looked like one. He stopped right in front of Thomas. He leaned forward putting his face only an inch from Thomas.

"Do you know what I am Thomas?" He leaned back.

"I am a businessman which means I don't take unnecessary risks. Why should I trust you?" He asked narrowing his eyes at Thomas.

"Cause I can help you. You see, if you can get me through those walls I can get you what you need." Thomas told him.

"And what is it that you think I need?" He asked slowly.

Thomas looked at the IV like set up the man had next to him.

"Time. Every last drop." Thomas told him.

The man chuckled then glanced at his IV.

"Is that what I need?" He asked.

"WCKD has something we both want." Thomas said simply.

"I'll tell you what. Two can go for now the rest stay here with me. Just a little insurance to make sure you find your way back. Do we have a deal?" The man extended his hand to Thomas.

Thomas looked at it for a second then shook it.

"Gally, show them the way." The man said with a hint of a smile.

We followed Gally into another open room. In the middle was an old metal cover on the ground.

"Who's going?" Gally asked Thomas.

"Newt and I will go. Fry, you keep an eye on Emi for me." Thomas ordered.

Gally looked up to me raising an eyebrow.

"Tommy you damn well know I don't need a baby sitter." I said harshly.

Thomas stepped over to me. He grabbed each side of my face making sure I only looked at him.

"I know you can protect yourself but until I know for sure that this situation is trustworthy I'd rather you have someone else looking out for you. I don't think your mind is exactly clear right now." He said softly.

I pulled his hands away from me as I scoffed.

"Of course my head isn't clear! I woke up this morning knowing that man was dead!" I pointed at Gally but kept my eyes on my brother.

"Emi" Gally said softly.

"Just go Thomas. I'm not gonna have a damn break down." I said harshly then turned away from him.

Thomas sighed but left me alone. I turned back as I heard the metal cover being moved. Gally shoved it to the side. Fry, Thomas, and Newt leaned over to look down the hole. Gally put a ladder inside it then moved to start climbing down.

"Gally, take care of these two. I'm pretty sure that Emi will truly kill you if anything happens to either of them." Fry chuckled.

"Yea" Gally nodded as he looked Fry over for a moment then started down the ladder.

I watched both Thomas and Newt climb down then I sighed as I ran my hands down my face. Fry, Brenda, and Jorge were all standing around me the next second.

"Are you okay?" Fry asked softly.

I looked at him. Is he serious?

"No Fry, I am far from okay. My brother is being a jackass and oh yea, my dead boyfriend is actually alive!" I shouted in frustration.

Fry stepped back from me looking hurt.

"You wanna talk about it?" Brenda asked cautiously.

I chuckled dryly.

"I think I've done enough talking. I want to punch something." I growled then quickly left the room.

I walked back into the room the crank businessman was in. He stopped what he was doing to look at me.

"You look tense my dear." He said.

"You don't say," I said sarcastically.

The man chuckled.

"What could be so bothersome?" He asked tilting his head to the side.

"No offense but if I don't want to talk to my friends about it I certainly don't want to talk to you about it." I snapped.

The man chuckled again.

"You remind me of Gally when he first came here. So untrusting of everyone." The man shook his head.

My chest tightened at his words.

"I'm nothing like him." I said weakly.

"Oh? Could Gally be the reason for your anger?" The man asked as he slowly walked closer to me.

I glared at him which made him laugh.

"Your name wouldn't be Emi would it?" He asked with a smile.

His smile grew as he saw the look of shock on my face.

"It is" he smiled as he stepped even closer to me.

"How did you know that?" I asked him.

He chuckled again.

"You're the girl who stole Gally's heart. He told me all about you Emi. About your life together in the maze. About you being torn from his arms as he laid there dying. What a tragic love story." He chuckled.

"He told you about me?" I asked softly feeling all the anger drain out of me.

"Oh yes, did you know Gally could draw?" He asked suddenly.

I looked at him in confusion from the sudden change of topic. I shook my head.

"Follow me," he said moving his finger towards himself.

I did as he said. He walked into the next room that had a desk in the corner. A large table was toward the middle of the room. He turned to the desk. I watched as he opened the top drawer then pulled out a folder.

"He hides them here for safekeeping." He said handing me the folder.

I took it then laid it on the desk. I opened it to find the most amazing landscape drawing I'd ever seen. It was the glade. It looked so real and beautiful. It was just like I remembered it when I had first gotten there. I put that drawing to the side to look at the next one. My breath caught in my throat. It was me. A perfect flawless drawing of me laughing. Every detail was spot on and perfect. The way my lips curled and my nose scrunched up. My eyes were closed in the midst of laughter. It was beautiful.

The next picture was also of me. This one I was only smiling. He had made it look as though the wind was blowing my hair. The drawing of me was looking straight at me with sparkling brown eyes. How did I not know he could do this?

"He told me he drew your face the most so he'd never forget it." The man next to me said softly.

I put the drawings back in the folder then closed it quickly. I hugged them tight to my chest as I turned to look at the man.

"Thank you" I sniffled.

He nodded then walked past me out of the room. He never forgot me. I quickly walked back into the room the man had gone back to.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked him once I stood in the middle of the room.

"Go ahead," he said as he looked down at his garden.

"Did Gally ever tell you how he feels about me?" I asked as I tightened my hold on the folder.

The man chuckled then turned to look at me.

"Only once. He said that no other woman would ever compare to you. You may have had a troubled ending but if he ever had the chance to see you again he'd make that moment count." The man smiled at me.

"Thank you" I whispered.

I stood there silently for a moment unsure of what to do.

“You look like you could use some time to think.” The man said softly.

I nodded.

“Behind me, these stairs will lead you to the roof. Take you a little breather.” He said pointing behind him.

I did as he said. I clutched the folder against my chest as I started to climb the stairs.

—

[edourado]

Together, ch iv

Here’s chapter four, because I need something light and fluffy, to help me stomach the world. I’m sad, I’m angry, sick to my stomach, I am legit losing faith in humanity, I burst out in tears at any given moment. And I don’t want to lose my mind, so here’s me coping. 

This is nothing, its a silly piece of fluffy fanfiction, but it’s for George Floyd, for Ahmaud Arbery, for João Pedro, a 14 year old black boy from Rio who was shot by police while playing inside his home, for every black individual who died because they were black, for their families, for the protesters. This is nothing, nothing, nothing, but it has a little of my heart in it, so it’s for them. 

I hope it makes you smile.

------- 

It wasn’t long until Frank got cabin fever. 

Staying inside all day was not at all like him. How long had he been spending most of his days outside, moving, doing something, or just looking at the people walking around the street?

To Karen’s amusement - and delight - he cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom, and was even able to remove the touch stains on the light switches. He did something to the fridge, and by the time he was done, the shelves and the door were gleaming as if had just arrived from the store, brand new. 

But the apartment was not big enough to keep him entertained for long, so he started ordering things online to improve on little stuff, like the shelves she needed for her shoes, since she had needed to make room for his, or these fancy magnets to install on bottom of  the doors, so they would stop banging shut whenever it was a little windy. He spent a whole afternoon on the phone with David Lieberman, deciding on the best cameras to install around the place.

Reading only took him so far. He went through four books before he found it hard to keep still, and it was even worse with Netflix. 

Then, one day, the masks they bought from the neighbor from two floors down were ready, and she texted to let them know she had left them at their door. 

“I thought they’d be much worse”, Karen said, after they wired the neighbor the money and collected the neatly packed masks. “These are good, look!”

She put one on and they were, indeed, much better than they both had expected. Not fancy or in any way tech advanced, but a simple cloth mask that covered mouth and nose without leaving gaps. All of them black. 

“I think I’ll order more”, Karen mused, while Frank put one on. As far as masks go, this was not the worst he had ever worn, not by a long shot. 

That night, Frank lied awake in bed, his finger twitching, unable to sleep. They had cooked a big dinner together, looking for something to do to spend the time and use the things they had on the pantry, trying to avoid spoiling food. 

Karen had also stayed awake for longer than usual, but now she breathed slowly, sleeping by his side, and Frank had given up keeping his eyes closed, and now stared at the ceiling. 

After what seemed like forever, he looked at the window and noticed that the sky was starting to become a tad lighter. When he checked his phone, it told him it was 4:34 in the morning. With a glance at Karen, he got up, careful not to wake her. 

After silently dressing, Frank picked up his phone from the bedside table and carried his shoes to the living room, stopping to pick up one of the masks they had washed before starting on dinner. The radiator had dried them all completely, leaving them warm and crisp feeling. 

Closing the apartment door silently behind him, he locked it and then moved quickly down the stairs. 

He couldn’t take a proper breath in, with the mask covering his mouth and nose, but the fresh air that made it through his lungs when he inhaled deeply were enough to make him feel better already. Looking at the empty street before him, Frank set off for the first jog he had in years. 

Ever since he came back from his last tour, he favored other ways of exercising. Jogging was neither possible nor efficient after the whole mess, but it felt good, it felt natural, to run without hurry and from nobody, not chasing anybody. Run for the sake of running. 

He was on a break by the river, almost an hour later, when his phone pinged. 

“Ok”, said Karen’s text, in reply to the one he had sent her before he left the apartment, letting her know he was off for a run. “Have fun”, and then, almost as an afterthought, “Be careful. Don’t touch anything and don’t take off your mask.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied. 

Frank ran for a good while. Not counting the time, or the miles, or his heartbeat, he just ran, took breaks, walked and then ran some more, looking as the morning made the city brighter, noticing how strange it the streets looked, so empty, even this early. He ran and he wished he could take off his mask, but he didn’t, happy that at least he was able to breathe some fresh air and not see any walls around him, for a change. 

The sun was up when he turned to make his way back, at 7:15.

There was a bakery one corner away from home, and the smell of fresh bread lured him in. A man in uniform, a mask and gloves told him they just took a fresh batch out of the oven, and Frank bought a few, along with cheese and two cups of coffee (which they had at the apartment, but he figured these people were risking themselves to provide food for the neighborhood and try and keep their business alive, so what’s two cups of extra coffee?)

“Thank you so much for your support” said the guy, handing him the bag and the cup holder through a window. 

“Thank you”, Frank replied, happy for this little slice of normal. “You guys open tomorrow?” 

“From seven to seven.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Name’s Frank.”

“I’m Ray. See you, Frank. Have a good day.”

He walked the rest of the way, and had to balance his purchases in one hand while taking the key from his shoe, towing said shoes off and unlocking the door, walking in in his socks.”

“Frank?” Karen called from the bedroom.   

“I’m here” he called back, starting the new strange process of cleaning the things he brought home with him. 

After putting the warm bread on the designated bread basket and disposing of the paper bag, he transferred the cheese to a clean container and the coffee to the coffee pot, where Karen had not yet pushed the button to brew. 

After his shower, he walked to the bedroom, feeling much, much better than he felt before getting up this morning. 

Karen was still in bed, phone in hand, and smiled at him when he walked in. 

“Hi”, she greeted, and he walked to her. “Enjoy your run?”

“Hmm”, was his answer, lying down half on top of her, kissing her gently, closing his eyes when her hands caressed his hair. “I brought breakfast.”

“I can smell it”, she said, softly. “That show we wanted to watch is available on Netflix. Wanna eat on the couch and watch it with me?”

He made them egg sandwiches and brought it to the couch while she cued the new show on TV, and when he settled down to watch it, he didn’t feel restless or that itch that made him want to get up every five seconds. 

What a difference, a run made. 

.:.

He came back to the apartment on the fourth day with croissants and the usual coffee, sweating profusely, since he had not made any stops this time, nor did he walk, and the jog was just straight up sprinting.

“Kare?” he called from the kitchen.

“I’m here!” she called back, and he saw her hand waving at him through the window. She was in the fire escape. 

He had to deal with the sanitizing of the shopping and then a shower, so it was a few minutes before he walked to the living room window. 

Before he got to the ledge, she popped her head inside and smiled at him. 

“I got you something.”

When Frank ducked to climb out to the narrow fire escape, he saw what she had gotten: a hammock. 

Cream colored, she had tied it on the iron bars above head, it hung a good few inches above the floor. She had placed two throw pillows in it, plus a heavy blanket. 

“You’ve been feeling so cooped up, I thought this would maybe help a little.

Turning to her, Frank smiled and moved to kiss her. 

“You didn’t have to do that”, he said, a hand caressing her hair. 

“I wanted to. I’m only sorry it took so long to arrive, I ordered it almost a month ago.”

Frank looked at the hammock, swaying lightly in the wind, and thought that this small act, this simple purchase for his benefit made him a little more sure that she meant it, when she said she loved him. 

It was silly, he knew that, but there still was a little part of him that expected her to wake up one day and realize that all she thought she felt for him was nothing but the thrill of the danger, the forbidden, the very ill advised act of rebellion, or even misinterpreted feelings of concern and worry and gratitude.

The fact that she didn’t run away from him after they slept together for the first time, or asked him to stay after the second third fourth and so on, asked him to move in, gave him a key, made room for his things, made room for him, bought him a hammock. It all told him that yeah, she was serious about that love. 

“Maybe we can have breakfast here?” he suggested, and she beamed, nodding. 

“So you like it?”

“I do”, he said against her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Settle in, I’ll get the food.”

 They ate the croissants and drank the coffee while sharing the hammock, after adjusting the height a little bit. 

“This is so good”, she said around a mouthful of warm croissant, taking a sip of coffee, looking out at the street below them. 

Frank watched as the morning light caught in her hair, how it made her eyes shine just a tad bluer, accentuated the few freckles she had on her nose.

“Yeah, it is”, he agreed, squeezing her foot under the blanket, thankful that, if he had to be stuck inside, at least it was with her.  

[mercurialmilk]

quick little life update under the cut 

putting this here because it might wiil get long. also bullet point because I find it easier to read. tw for: surgery, blood

got my breast reduction surgery done at the end of Febuary!! 

it went well, but I learned I DO NOT handle anaesthesia well. It took me a solid 2 days before I could function again 

You’re supposed to take a shower on day 3 so it was the first time I got to actually see what was going on and it was.... terrifying. They really dont warn you. Like, I’ve seen before and after photos but when it’s your own body its very scary. 

things were going well, I thought, until about a week later. 

I had this weird pain in my leg. Like when you pull a muscle? If it was any other time in my life I would have ignored it but since I hadnt exercised for a week it was weird. And because my anxiety revolves around my health, I researched everything that could go wrong with my surgery a few weeks prior.... and one of them was a deep vein thrombosis (DVT). 

it’s extremely rare in someone my age and with such a short surgery that is on my upper body. It’s more common with ortho surgeries and older people 

I also had NONE of the other symptoms. You’re supposed to have a swollen, red, warm leg bigger than the other leg.

I had an appointment with my endocrinologist a week after the surgery (I forgot to move the appointment) and while I was there to see her I told her I had a lot of anxiety about the leg and she said ‘lets take a look’ and said that it showed none of the signs BUT because she knows Im super anxious, so she’ll order an ultrasound because it’s a non invasive test and it will ease my mind (big thank you to her for that!!) 

because guess what? I DID have a DVT in my calf. Got a call the next day from her telling me to get to an ER right away, which is... terrifying. 

They put me on blood thinners for 3 months (so far) and it led to.... 

the WORST menstrual period of my life. 

they’ve never been particularly heavy (with 2 notable exceptions) so this was new to me. It took 10 days and I lost about 6-8 cups of blood if my cup thingy is accurate. It was just shy of needing blood transfusions. 

I am now signed up for IV iron supplementation, which I’ll need to go to the hospital for (I’m scheduled for April) and in the meantime I’m taking lots of iron supplements to try and help. 

All of this happened right around when Covid19 started to become a big issue where I live so it’s been a wild ride to be worried about something COMPLETELY different while still stressing about the virus as well. 

It’s now been almost a full month since the surgery and my incisions are starting to heal over and scar and i’m so excited!!! Everything looks amazing and I’m in way less pain already. Despite everything that happened, I’m still REALLY happy I got the surgery!! 

I’m currently still on medical leave and will be for another few weeks and due to the quarantine I’ve been creating lots of art and catching up on projects I’ve been meaning to do for ages!! 

some stuff I’ve done: 

finally bleached/dyed a bunch of denim jackets I got on deep clearance that now look amazing!!! 

learned how to bake really really good artisanal bread (I highly recommend a book called Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast if you want to try as well)

finished and started a ton of knitting projects. Currently on the needles: a bright yellow beanie hat and a blanket 

tons of sewing projects including mending a bunch of clothing, making myself new PJ pants, and a bunch of knitting project bags! 

speaking of that, I’ve started and launched my OWN shop!! It’s mercurialmilk.com and it took FOREVER to set up (the project bags are listed). Of course, it’s much harder to get to a mailbox and people are less inclined to spend money on non-essentials right now, which is completely fair, but I’m still proud of myself for setting it all up because it took forever! 

cleaned out and polished my typewriters and replaced a bunch of ribbons so they’re all in great condition now

watched SO. MANY. SHOWS. and movies. the best so far: schitt’s creek, Troop Zero, Feel Good, The Morning Show, Sex Education and Birds of Prey were all great! 

If you stuck around for all that, THANKS! and I’ll try to update more often than once a month lol. 

Really hope you’re all doing OK and keeping healthy. Personally I’m a huge introvert so the quarantine is my daily life but it’s still a hugely stressful time and I really really hope this gets under control soon!! 

[rheyninwrites]

Old Friends Part 12

By the time the evening arrived, we’d put everything away. All my paintings were on walls around the house, and I had to admit it made me feel much more at home. I think Arthur really enjoyed it, too. We had gone to get some groceries earlier that afternoon, so there would be enough food for me to eat during the day. Working at a school, I had summers off, so I would be at home while he worked. He made a comment on this while we were making dinner together.

“What exactly do you do all day, anyway?”

“I don’t do anything special, mostly just try to keep up with things that need to be done, play video games or watch movies. A lot of the time I paint, but I forgot to grab the supplies I had. It’s fine, though, they were mostly pretty old, and I could use some new stuff. I’ll probably run out and get some this weekend.”

“Huh. Okay.”

“What, you think I should be doing something more productive with my time? I still get paid during the summer, they spread it out through the year, but I guess I could get a job for the next couple of months, if it’ll help more with bills around here.”

“That ain’t what I was saying at all. I just find it interesting. And I already told you, I don’t expect you to help out. I’d have the same bills even if you wasn’t here.”

“Well, you wouldn’t exactly, because I’ll be using electricity while you’re at work, and you have to buy more food. And I’ve told you that I appreciate the thought, but I’ll feel guilty if I don’t contribute something, at least. Please don’t turn this into another bed situation.”

“Alright, alright, you win. But you’re only gonna contribute towards the bills you raise. Just as stubborn as ever, I see.”

“Of course, and you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He laughed.

“Damn right, woman.”

After he went to work the next morning, I set about busying myself all day. I got the Xbox set up, then walked around the house looking for little things I could take care of, like emptying the trash cans or cleaning the bathrooms. It was maddening. There was almost nothing to clean up! He kept the place so spotless that by 10am, I had resigned myself to a day of movie watching. I made a note to pick up some books and a few fresh movies when I picked up more art supplies, and plopped on the couch.

I woke up to the sound of the key in the lock, then Arthur calling my name.

“Can you come help me get this stuff in?”

I slipped on my shoes and hurried to where he was outside, standing with Boadicea’s passenger door open. He had his eyes cast downward and a sheepish grin on his face. He also had a shit ton of art supplies in the seat next to him.

I let out a gasp and started rummaging through the bags as fast as I could. There were acrylics, watercolors, pencils, pens, markers, and all manner of sketchbooks. He’d also bought several canvases, an entire bag of brushes, and an easel.

“I didn’t really know what you liked to work with now, so I got a few different things. That okay?”

I nodded, then spun around to face him and threw my arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“It’s perfect. Thank you so much. But you know you didn’t have to? I could have done it myself.”

“I know. I wanted to. Just wanted to see you smile, I guess.”

When he said that, looking right into my eyes as he did, I think I momentarily lost control of my body. I must have, because that’s the only thing that could explain why I did what I did next.

I reached up, put a hand on each side of his face, pulled him down to me, and I kissed him. Right, square on the lips.

What the hell am I doing!?!?

Why is he not running away?

He wasn’t running away, not at all. For a moment he didn’t do anything, just stayed planted, frozen, like I was some kind of Medusa. Then I felt him turn his head, just slightly, and wrap his arms around my waist. He was pulling me closer, not trying to push me away.

What’s happening here?

I tried to keep my thought at bay, to not give into my insecurities and just enjoy the kiss. But when you have scars so deep, you don’t usually get to just enjoy things. Those thoughts have a way of busting through any wall you build.

Geez. He’s so desperate for affection, he’s even willing to kiss you.

You know he doesn’t really want you, right?

A fat girl like you with a handsome guy like him? Oh PLEASE!

It’s never gonna happen honey, just accept it.

It’s a pipe dream.

He can do so much better.

You’re just friends.

He probably didn’t want to offend you.

YOU’RE

JUST

TOO

UGLY

The words echoing in my head were too much to take. I let go of him, then bolted into the house. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see how he felt. I knew I had ruined things no matter what. Either I had ruined our friendship by kissing him, or I had ruined the chance for more by running away. Instead of waiting around to find out what nasty words he might have for me, I went straight into the main bathroom, and locked the door. Then I sat down in the tub, pulled the shower curtain, and started to sob.

I heard him coming inside, bumping against the walls as he struggled to bring it all in. I know he had to make more than one trip, because I heard the door open and close at least one more time, and that made me feel even more guilty than I already did. I was afraid he was going to try to talk to me, and I was afraid he wouldn’t. Trauma does funny things to your brain, especially when it happens to you as a kid.

I heard his footsteps back and forth in the living room for a while, then nothing. My sobs reduced to hiccups, the finally a few silent tears before I was all cried out. Shortly after that I heard a gentle knock. He waited and I said nothing. I didn’t know what I could possibly say. Soon he tried again.

“Can I come in?”

No.

“You know you can’t stay in there forever.”

Wanna bet?

“If you don’t open up soon, I’m gonna just take the door off.”

I considered that for a minute.

You bastard, you would, wouldn’t you?

So my options were to stay in and attempt to starve myself and probably have the door removed on me, or open up. Eventually, it still meant facing the problem.

Dammit.

I reached as far as I could out of my tub fortress and unlocked the door, slipping back inside as quickly as I could. He waited a few beats before opening the door, then crossed the room and sat on the toilet beside the tub. He didn’t try to open the curtain, which I was very grateful for.

“Hey look, it’s okay. Well, I mean, it ain’t okay, but it’s gonna be.”

I could hear him shifting around beside the curtain for a bit before continuing.

“What happened was . . . I don’t know what it was. I don’t know if it was you, or me, or maybe even some outside force. But it happened, and we can’t change that. All we can do is move forward.”

I still didn’t say anything. I still didn’t know what I could say.

“All I know is that Ive been happier this week than I’ve been in years, and I don’t wanna lose you from my life again. It’s not worth all that. So I promise I won’t hold it against you, if you don’t hold it against me. Okay?”

“You hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t reckon I ever could hate you. There ain’t many people who seen me at my best and my worst and stuck around through both.”

That got me, right in the heart. I knew exactly what he meant, because I felt the same way about him. My throat felt tight, and I swallowed hard. Slowly, I peeked out from behind the shower curtain.

“Promise?”

“Of course I promise. Now are you gonna get out of that tub, or you gonna make me climb in with you?”

“If you did that we’d be stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

“Then I’m guessing you better get out.”

I roughly pushed back the curtain and took his outstretched hand. I knew I had been ridiculous and dramatic, but sometimes that side gets the best of a person, even when they don’t want it to. Especially when you’ve just kissed your former best friend who you haven’t been around much in the last decade or so, but are hopelessly in love with, and just moved in with.

We left the bathroom and ate dinner, making the kind of small talk we both usually hated in order to cover the awkwardness. Afterwards, I helped him build my new easel and he helped me put away my art supplies in an old cabinet he dragged into a corner of the living room. Then, exhausted, we showered and fell into bed.

That night after he gave my hand it’s usual good night squeeze, he didn’t let go.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

phantom weights chapter five

one, two, three, four

season 11, post my struggle iv. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: In the wake of their second encounter, Mulder, Scully, and Jackson reconnect (both by accident and on purpose.)

note: warning up front for some angst, references to jackson and scully’s past, and the clusterfuck of a motherhood arc they gave scully. i’m also sorry to post this on mother’s day.

---

It hurt like hell to wake up and find their son gone that morning in July. Scully would be lying if she said it didn't. He'd had the courtesy to leave a note, at least, but it was brief and left little comfort. They'd both been shocked by the abruptness of it; when he'd seen the note, Mulder had recoiled from it like he'd been hit.  

Scully tried not to let it bother her. Tried to tell herself she should expect things like this. Of course he was distant, she told herself; he had every right to be, considering what she had done. He needed space, and she was determined to give it to him. (They waited a week and a half to call him, nervous and shooting each other questioning looks. He didn't answer. They left a brief message, trying to sound cheerful and nonchalant. Mulder reached for her hand when they hung up, squeezing it reassuringly. She couldn't look him in the eye.)

She tried to distract herself. She checked more books out of the library. She researched a scientific article she'd wanted to write ever since her research into the so-called Spartan Virus that hopefully would never make an appearance. She read over the scraps of novel Mulder had written, scribbled notes in the margins. She took Daggoo for walks around the property, Mulder joining her as often as he could. They fell asleep on top of the comforter, Mulder holding her close. (He liked to whisper about the baby in her ear, his hand tangled in her hair. He thought the baby would look like her, just like you, Scully. He was going to love her so much.)

The days grew longer and hotter. They only called Jackson once every two weeks. They told each other that they could limit themselves to that.

Finally, somewhere in the middle of August, Mulder had the idea to take a vacation. Drive to the coast for a few days. "I think we could both use some time to relax," he said gently, coaxing.

"Isn't that what we've been doing?"  Scully snapped. She was irritable and disliked that she was irritable, hating the mood swings of the third trimester. "Relaxing? Or trying to?"

"A change of scenery might help with that," said Mulder. "We won't be rattling around this house with reminders of Jackson, and the baby…"

"What if the baby comes while we're gone? What if I go into early labor? What then?" She was eight months along, and terrified of the baby coming prematurely. She didn't know what her chances were if she came this early.

"We could get a place near a hospital. And besides that, your due date is still several weeks out."

She was quiet. She could feel the baby turning over, moving restlessly, and she let her eyes slide shut. She'd been so worried the whole time, ever since she took those pregnancy tests—she was still worried. She worried nearly every day. She knew at the beginning of this all that it'd be hard to lose another baby, but she didn't realize how hard until she got to know her child. Felt her moving inside of her, and realized that it was all real.

(Not that she thought she was going to lose the baby. But it was a possibility that loomed over her like a black cloud, a possibility that frightened her more than anything. Losing Mulder or Jackson or her baby.)

But she realized as Mulder slipped his arms around her that she did want to go. It was impractical, but not necessarily dangerous, and she wanted to go. She hadn't taken a vacation with Mulder in so long. She thought of him by the ocean, on the island where they'd gone after he'd been exonerated. She thought of a few days away from home, not surrounded by reminders, as Mulder had said, that their son was a sporadic and reluctant presence in their life, and they were about to be new parents again at the age of retirement. She kept her eyes shut as Mulder kissed the back of her head. "Honey… if you don't want to…" he whispered into her hair. "It was just a thought, but I completely understand if it's too much…"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He pushed her hair, growing gradually longer, away from her face with gentle fingers. She sniffled a little, giving him a stern look. "I want to be cautious," she said. "I want to plan things out, and be ready if there's an emergency."

"Of course, of course." He put a reassuring hand to her cheek. "Are you sure?" he said softly. "We don't have to go…"

"I want to go," she whispered. She leaned into him, her back aching, her eyes shutting again. "We need to be careful, but I want to go. I think you're right. I need this."

"What was that, Scully?" he teased in a soft voice. "I was what?"

She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Mulder," she said, pulling back to look him in the eye. "You did promise me a vacation back in March, remember?" And he had, right around the time she'd moved back in.

"I did," he said, remembering. He cupped the side of her head, fingers in her hair, smoothing her cheek. "You'll be okay," he whispered. "The both of you. I promise you that."

---

Within the week, they were driving into Delaware. Mulder had found a little house on the coast that was miraculously for rent, which was within a couple hours of home and not far from a hospital. The best possible scenario. It was a nice house, a nice view, a sprawling screened-in porch that looked out over the ocean. Scully loved it on first sight. "Be nice to the owner," she told him sternly that first night, tucked into his side on the porch swing, listening to the crash of the waves. "If he likes us, he might let us come back in the future."

"Hmm," Mulder said, half asleep. "I'll bring you here every year if you want."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she whispered. She was imagining their baby (their daughter) on that beach, running in and out of the water, and halfway thinking it was a bad idea, but fully not wanting to stop. She watched the churning waves meld with the blackening sky.

The house had a huge bathtub, which may have been Scully's favorite part of the house. She and Mulder climbed in together, him behind her, lathering her hair with gentle fingers. He pressed his face into her wet neck and held her tight. She nearly fell asleep in his arms, the baby turning and flipping as if going for a swim. They left the window open so they could hear the ocean, feel the night breeze. It was perhaps the most relaxed she had felt in months. "This was a nice idea," she whispered, hoping desperately that nothing would go long, hoping that they could just stay here for a week and relax and that nothing would go wrong.

---

In the morning, Scully woke long before Mulder—the baby's restless movements kept her up more often than she liked. As the sun rose over the ocean, she slipped downstairs and took Daggoo out into the yard. He puttered around the square of grass, sniffing before peeing on a tree. Scully placed a hand over her stomach and gazed out towards the ocean. There was a nice breeze, cool for the middle of August, nudging at her hair, her face. She couldn't wait for Mulder to get up. She thought that she never wanted to leave here.

The waves crashed, the sound dim because of her distance from them. Behind her, Daggoo burst into frantic, excited barks. She heard a car engine, and turned around just time to see a car rolling up the gravelly driveway. Jackson's car. She knew before she saw him; she could feel him.

Daggoo whimpered, pawing at her leg. When the car door opened, he went running to meet him.

Scully smiled before she even realized she was doing it. Even though she and Mulder had come up to spend some time alone, she was incredibly happy to see him. Her son. "Hi, Jackson," she said.

Jackson cleared his throat, leaning down to greet Daggoo, scratch the top of his head. "Hi, Dana." Daggoo licked his hand, and he grinned a little. He scooped up the wriggling dog and cradled him like a baby. He met Scully's eyes skittishly, like a stray cat. "I, uh," he said, "was wondering if I could stay a couple days."

Scully didn't need to ask how he had found them. She already knew. She still had a hand on her stomach; she took it away in order to motion towards the door. "Come on in," she said.

---

Jackson hadn't intended to go back. He'd intended for the weekend at their house to be the last time, at least for a while. If not forever. He hadn't meant to come back, for their sakes as much as his own. He wanted the night they watched movies together to be the end of it. And he thought it probably would've been, if he hadn't run out of money.

The warehouse job had fired him. About a week ago, they'd fired him. He didn't really know why. Maybe it was his shitty attitude, maybe it was the weed he had in his car. Maybe they'd figured out that his name and age were fake. Who knew at this point. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know. But he'd lost one of his two jobs, and he was running out of money at a rapid pace. Spending recklessly. He was going to have to cut off some of the streaming services, and maybe the WiFi, if he didn't get smart. He was worried about food, worried about making rent and car insurance and all of it. (The warehouse paid substantially more than Burger King.) He didn't know what the hell he was going to do. Even after he'd had the insane idea to go on fucking vacation with them.

He'd sworn he wasn't going to do this anymore. But he was running out of money, and he knew they'd give it. And a few days at the beach was a few days he didn't have to pay for food, even with the heightened gas costs. (And besides that, he kind of wanted to stay somewhere besides his crummy apartment. Kind of wanted to spend a few goddamn days at the beach. He missed the coast. He wanted a break.)

He'd just stay a little while. Charm them out of some money. Give them one last good memory, and maybe not sneak out in the middle of the damn night this time. That was the idea. That was what drove him to Delaware, windows rolled down, following the road map he could see in Ginger's mind.

At least the dog was happy to see him, if nothing else. At least he had that.

(Not that he necessarily thought Dana wasn't happy to see him. But. He knew that she and Mulder had both been hurt when he'd run off in the middle of the night. He'd felt it, and he didn't like thinking about it. It made him feel small and tangled-up inside. It made him not want to come back.)

Inside the beach house, Scully immediately went to the kitchen, offering food. "Mulder's still asleep, but I can make you some breakfast…" she started.

"You don't need to cook," said Jackson. (He was feeling small and embarrassed and he didn't feel like he could ask for that. He could ask for a few hundred dollars, but he wouldn't ask her to make breakfast.) "I can feed myself."

"I don't mind," she said, scooping coffee grounds into the coffeemaker.

"Seriously, let me do it," he insisted, pushing past her towards the refrigerator. "I've already intruded on your vacation. Might as well make my own breakfast." He pulled a packet of bacon out of the fridge and slapped them on a paper towel, and then on a paper plate. He usually made bacon in the microwave because it was quick, and because he hated bending over the crackling pan and risking a grease burn.

"Help yourself to anything," Dana said gently, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. "Coffee should be ready soon."

"Thank you." He stuck the bacon in the microwave with another slab of paper towel over top before going for the loaf of bread to make toast. He was still avoiding Scully's eyes as he popped slices of bread into the toaster.

Past the kitchen, he heard stairs creaking with footsteps. Daggoo yipped excitedly, prancing out of the kitchen to go and who was presumably Mulder. "Hello, mutt," Jackson heard Mulder say with a dry sort of affection. Scully gave a small chuckle. Jackson didn't turn around, his neck flushed and hot.

More footsteps, and then an abrupt stop in the doorway. A few awkward seconds passed before Mulder said, "Hey, Jackson. Wh-when did you get here?"

He cleared his throat, turning around and offering a sheepish smile. "Just a few minutes ago," he said. "Sorry to intrude." The microwave beeped loudly.

"It's not an intrusion," said Mulder, although he was shooting Scully a questioning look and trying to look like he wasn't. He offered Jackson a broad grin. "You're welcome any time."

"Of course you are," Dana added warmly, and Jackson could practically feel the combination of hope and nerves radiating off of both of them. Hoping that he'd come because he wanted to, and that he'd stay, nervous that he'd run off again. This was why he hadn't wanted to come. He gave a thankful nod, turned towards the microwave and pulled out his plate of bacon. It had nearly burned.

"There's an extra bedroom upstairs. You make yourself at home," Mulder said.

"Thank you, I will," Jackson said. And he would. He would try his best, partially because he wouldn't ask for money right away, unprecedented, but also because he owed them that, at least. Owed them a few nice days where he wasn't being a total ass, especially if this was the last time he'd see them. (And he did intend that, for their sake and for the kid's. He honestly wasn't sure if the danger still existed—all the quiet over the past few months had halfway convinced him it didn't exist—but he didn't want to risk it. Even staying for these few days was stressing him out. Only the fact that he hadn't seen any danger in the past couple months had convinced him that these few days would be okay. This had to be the end.)

Jackson sat down at the table, adjacent to Scully. She and Mulder were discussing breakfast, but he wasn't really listening. He bit off a corner of a slice of toast and looked absently out the window. He saw the house next door, saw the overgrown yard. Saw the two people in sunglasses, standing close together, looking at the beach house and whispering.

---

Jackson stayed quiet. The moody, brooding quiet Mulder recognized from his own teenage years. (Thinking about it, he supposed that he and his son were a lot alike at this stage of their lives. They'd lost a family member, or members, they'd both faded into themselves and the depth of their grief. They'd both had a bad attitude and a martyr complex.) They didn't push him. They wanted to give him space.

(Mulder wasn't upset that Jackson had shown up. He wasn't. He would've loved for him to come along in the first place. The family vacations he'd always wanted to take. But he'd had the idea as a solution to Scully's stress. To give her a chance to relax, take some time for the two of them to rest before their lives were thrown into upheaval. And he was overjoyed to see their son, but he didn't want things to go like last time. It had crushed Scully to find him gone, crushed them both, and he didn't want them to go through that again. He wanted his son to come home and come home for good, wanted the assurance that he would be there every morning.)

They ended up on the beach, the three of them, Jackson sprawled out on a towel with a book on black holes that they'd both smiled a little at. He had sunglasses pushed up on his forehead, and he squinted at the book in the bright sunlight. He didn't look away from the book when he said, "So, how's the kid?"

"Fine," Scully replied. "Restless. I think we'll both be relieved when she gets here."

Jackson was still looking at the book when he said, "It's a girl?" But there was a hint of curiosity in his voice, a hint enough that Mulder caught.

"We think so," he said. "We're not sure yet."

"That's cool." Jackson flipped a page, still not looking at them.

Scully offered, "So, how are your jobs going?"

This made Jackson snap the book closed; he set it on the towel next to him. "Um," he said. "Okay, I guess. I got fired at one."

"Really?" Scully asked, and he nodded, as best as he could nod while lying on the ground. "Oh my god. What happened?"

He shrugged. "Don't think they liked me. Or I wasn't a good employee. Some shit like that."

"Are… are you okay?" Mulder asked, his voice husky with guilt over his initial reaction to Jackson showing up. Of course he'd come; he'd just lost a job, he probably needed help. "Do you need money?"

Jackson bit his lip. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble, I think so."

They didn't even have to look at each other; they both knew they were going to agree before they opened their mouths. "Yes, of course," Scully said quietly, her voice full of a melancholy affection. (They'd both been devastated when he left.) "Whatever you need, sweetie," she said, and he could hear the sincerity. There wasn't a hint of condescension; she meant every word.

"Thank you," Jackson mumbled. He sounded embarrassed. He picked up his book off of the towel and opened it again.

Scully reached for Mulder's hand blindly, found it on the arm of his chair and squeezed it. He squeezed wordlessly back.

After a few moments, the waves pounding the sand and Scully and Jackson turning pages, Jackson asked in the most casual voice possible, "So, you ever had a case about a black hole?"

Mulder grinned. "Not really," he said. "But we met this guy once who thought the secret to alien contact was black holes. He thought it served as some kind of teleportation created by the aliens so that the two cultures could meet without extensive, unrealistic travel times."

Jackson snorted, sitting up on the towel so fast that his sunglasses slipped down and hit the bridge of his nose, his book tumbling into his lap. "Well, that doesn't seem very plausible."

"Thank you," Scully said with a relieved, amused sigh. She was suddenly animated, pushing back the Knicks cap she'd stolen from Mulder and leaning forward to talk to Jackson. "You should've heard the explanations he came up with. It was ridiculous…"

Mulder leaned back, content not to argue very hard. He'd let them gang up on him every day if it meant they could have this.

---

They went inside, later, Jackson and Mulder shouldering the equipment without a word. As they tramped up the path to the beach, Jackson saw the same people from before in the yard next door, leaning together, whispering and pointing. Maybe it was a coincidence, he told himself. He wondered why the goddamn FBI agents hadn't noticed yet, that their neighbors might be watching them.

He tried not to let it phase him. It was probably a coincidence.

After a sparse lunch, Scully promptly fell asleep stretched out on the couch, one arm over her stomach and the other over her eyes. Mulder covered her up with an afghan, tucking it around her. Jackson tried not to watch. He felt awkward around them, like he was intruding.

Mulder smoothed hair off of Dana's forehead and turned to Jackson. "Make yourself at home, kiddo," he said. "Seriously. You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Uh, sure," he said. "Sure, sure. What did you have in mind?"

Mulder shrugged. "I found Back to the Future on the shelf over there. Want to do that?"

Jackson nodded. He used to love those movies; he used to watch them at sleepovers.

When he was little, he used to think that maybe he didn't have a dad, because he never saw him, and because his mom said that single moms were more likely to give up children. He figured he was just gone, that he had left and maybe that was why Ginger had given him up. He'd thought about Ginger more, because he'd been able to feel her, guess that maybe she used to love him, but he used to wonder about his dad. He used to imagine him as a sort of dark romantic hero, someone who loved his mother and him dearly, but had to leave because he had to do something more important. Or maybe to protect them. And he missed them both desperately, but could not risk coming home to find them. But he never knew why he couldn't see him.

Later, he would get visions of that other man, the one who had been manipulating him, and he'd wanted to forget about the idea of a father. He held onto the idea of Ginger right up until the end, but he'd wanted to forget about a birth father.

And then he'd learned the truth. He'd met Mulder. And as much as he didn't want to think of Mulder and Scully as his parents, he was glad that Mulder was his birth father instead of that smoking fucker.

The funniest part of it all seemed to be that the stupid little childhood fantasy seemed to be true, as far as he could tell. He didn't know if Mulder was necessarily a romantic hero or any of that bullshit, but it was clear he'd loved them both, him and Ginger. And he'd left to protect them. Fucking ironic.

Mulder sat at the end of the couch, Scully's feet in his lap. Jackson sprawled out on the floor. The movie was as good as he remembered, but he found it hard to concentrate. He kept thinking about time travel, what he wouldn't give for a DeLorean time machine. He wouldn't go back in time for anything other than saving his parents. And he would give anything for that opportunity. Anything at all.

Midway through the movie, Mulder got up to make popcorn. "Butter?" he asked, and Jackson nodded. He chuckled, pouring kernels into a pot. "You know, your mom believes in time travel," he said.  

It took Jackson a minute to make the connection, but when he did, he was genuinely shocked. From what he'd seen about the two of them, he'd figured Dana was usually the skeptical one. "Really?" he said in response.

"Yeah. Well. The theoretical possibility of it." He grinned absently. "She wrote about it in her senior thesis."

"Wow." Jackson propped himself up on the couch, eyes back on the TV. "Didn't know Dana had it in her."

"She believes in more than you'd expect," he said. "Or that she herself would admit."

"Hmm." Jackson flopped back against the carpet, watching Marty McFly skateboarding through the streets. He could hear Dana breathing sleepily behind him, and it was still strange, strange as hell: to hear her there when she'd only existed in his head for so long.

Mulder walked back over to the couch, his feet squeaking on the floorboards. "She really loves you, you know," he said quietly. "Dana. She loves you so much."

Jackson swallowed hard. Part of him was a little relieved to know these things, that they cared about him, but part of him wished they wouldn't say these things every single time. Part of him wished they didn't have to. "I know," he whispered, though he didn't. He hadn't been sure for a long time.

He couldn't remember the first time he'd seen her, it'd been happening so long. He usually saw her when he was scared or in pain. When he seized. After nightmares. When he was in the hospital, hooked up to machines or choking on gas, curled up in a ball behind a couch in the main room; he'd see her helping children, being the type of doctor that he never ever had, a good doctor instead of an evil one. It had been comforting. He'd held onto that image for so long: Ginger's a good doctor, Ginger would never do this to me. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly imaginative and hopeless: Ginger will come and save me. Ginger will take me home. And she never did. But it was an emotion that he held onto for so long that when he saw her when he was seizing, almost two years ago—when he saw the future, the pandemic and everyone dying and Ginger saying that she needed to find him—he'd thought that maybe it was true. Maybe she could save him, and his parents. That was why he'd sent her dreams after what happened with Bri and Sarah; he'd been hoping that she could help him. Be the Ginger he always saw in his dreams.

She'd let him down in that regard; she hadn't been able to save him or his parents. It had taken ages for him to forgive her for that. But she wasn't necessarily different from the woman he had seen all his life. Not really.

He remembered seeing her once when he was about three or four, asleep, curled into a protective sort of ball around a small, ratty stuffed animal. At the time, he'd thought it was strange for an adult to sleep with a toy the way that he did, but now he understood why. It was his, that rabbit they'd shown him the last time. She had been missing him, so she'd held onto his rabbit to create some kind of connection with him. She'd missed him, the way he'd always hoped she had.

That was how he knew that Mulder was telling the truth. He thought a part of him might've always known. He just wasn't sure whether or not to believe it.

He lay flat on the carpet, eating the popcorn Mulder made and watching Marty McFly manipulate his parents together, trying not to imagine a universe where his entire life went differently.

---

After Scully woke up, she and Mulder played several games of Scrabble at the table while Jackson read his book on the couch, Daggoo's head resting on his thigh. He was tense for reasons he couldn't exactly explain, jumping at sharp noises, eyes darting over to the window or door constantly. He thought it might've had something to do with the people he'd spotted watching them twice today, but he told himself he was being ridiculous. They were probably just nosy neighbors. Mulder and Scully didn't seem worried at all; they were teasing each other, and bickering over what qualified as a word or not, and they didn't seem to be on edge.

Jackson was probably just imagining it. He told himself again and again that he was just imagining it.

Later that afternoon, Mulder offered to go and pick up some food for dinner. "So neither of us have to cook and you don't have to bother with going out," he said to Scully, smoothing hair away from her face.

"You're sweet," she said in a dry voice that landed somewhere between authenticity and sarcasm. "But you don't have to go pick something up, Mulder…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I know you've been craving crab since before we got here." He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, and she made a face at him. "You sit tight, I'll be back in a little bit," he said, before turning to Jackson, who'd been trying very hard to ignore them on the other side of the room. It was even more uncomfortable than usual to be around them when they were being like this. His parents had loved each other and everything, but they'd never been so overtly fucking affectionate.

"Jack? You want to ride along?" Mulder asked, his face a mask of casualness.

He weighed his options—going with Mulder or staying back with Dana—and decided that Mulder was actively the better choice. "Sure," he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his phone.

"Make sure to get some calamari," said Dana, unphased, picking her book up off the couch. "Drive safe."

"Says the horrible driver," Mulder said, kissing the top of her head. "Be back in a few."

Jackson, already halfway towards the door, felt as if he should say something, at least. He turned around and offered an awkward little wave. "Bye, Dana."

She gave him a huge smile over the top of his book that made him feel guilty and like a five-year-old all over again. Trying not to squirm, he gave her a trembly smile back. He wasn't sure how sincere it was; he felt like he owed it for her, but he also felt a little bit like he meant it.

---

The drive was mostly uneventful. Jackson looked up the menu of the restaurant on his phone so he could pick out his order. Mulder asked him questions about sports teams, basketball and baseball, and this was an easy topic; Jackson could talk about meaningless things like sports for hours. It was easy to fall into these kinds of conversations, as long as it didn't get too emotional.

It wasn't until they got home that the feeling of unease settled back into Jackson's gut. He saw the neighbors again, huddled at the fence between the two houses, their phones raised like they were taking photos of the house.

His heart was beating too fast, a lump in his throat, and he clutched the bags of takeout so hard they left red imprints on his palm. He stared at the neighbors, a man and a woman, until one of them turned towards him. The distance and the dark lenses of the sunglasses they were wearing made it difficult to discern their expression, but Jackson knew he was looking at him.

"Mulder," he said quietly, not wanting to break eye contact, but when Mulder didn't respond, he turned towards the car and said, "Mulder," more pointedly.

Mulder, who'd been rummaging through the glove compartment, stood up straight. "Sorry, I just realized I forgot napkins, and I wanted to see if we had any stashed in here," he said. "What's up?"

"D-do you see those people over there?" Jackson said in a rush, turning in that direction. "The people in the next ya—" But when he turned, he only saw an empty fence. They were gone.

Mulder squinted in that direction, his hand shielding his eyes. "I don't see anyone," he said. "Why?"

Jackson gritted his teeth together. He was scared, and he didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to go, and he was afraid that these people were exactly what he thought. And he needed the money, and he didn't want to leave, didn't want to hurt them unnecessarily, but he had seen these people all day. They were watching the house. They weren't dressed like assassins, like the people who had killed his parents or came after him, but maybe they'd improved in covertness. Maybe they were trying to lull the goddamn FBI agents into a false sense of security. They were after him, and he was putting them in danger, and he didn't think they'd gone after Scully yet, if they were only taking pictures of the house, but Jesus Christ, what if they had? What if they were going to come later? What the hell could he do? He couldn't let this happen again.

"Jackson?" Mulder asked. His hand landed gently on Jackson's shoulder, probably meant to comfort or to get his attention, but Jackson still jumped a mile. Mulder snatched his hand away, but he didn't move away; his eyes were still full of worry. "Are you okay?"

He bit down on his lip so hard it bled. "Fine," he said, nearly spitting. "Fine, fine. I…" He put the takeout bags down on the seat abruptly. "I'm going for a run." Let them come after me, he thought. Fucking chase me if they want. But not them. Not the kid.

"R-right now?" Mulder said with a nervous little laugh. "What about your food?"

"Whatever, I'll eat later." His heart was thumping too fast; he felt like he was going to vomit.

Mulder's eyes were wide and full of worry; he reached out to touch his shoulder, but drew back immediately. "Buddy, why don't you come inside?" he said softly. "If something's wrong… we can talk about it."

"No," he snapped. Couldn't go in, couldn't lead the assassins there, couldn't find out whether or not Ginger was already hurt or dead… He had to believe she was fine, that they wouldn't have made a move when he wasn't there. "I gotta go, I gotta go," he said, and then he turned and took off running. Went towards the beach, even though he knew it'd be a pain in the ass to run on, because he figured that if they were going to try to kill him, he should try to fight them off somewhere semi-private. So that nobody else would get hurt, not the people who were uninvolved and didn't deserve to get tangled up in the middle.

Mulder called his name, his voice full of concern, but Jackson didn't look back.

---

He ran for nearly half an hour before he figured out they weren't pursuing him. He fell to the sand with exhaustion, blood pulsing through him, panting and gasping for air. It took forever for him to catch his breath. He lay on the cool sand, eyes shut, the waves crashing behind him.

He might question why the assassins hadn't come after him already, but then again, he might think of the fact that the assassins could have gone in the house, that they could have Mulder and Scully and were holding them captive to lure him back. Maybe he shouldn't have left so hastily. Maybe that wouldn't help a damn thing.

The thing was that he had to protect him. They weren't his parents, but they were his parents, and he couldn't let anything happen to them. Them or the baby, which might be a girl, and he'd already lost a sister that he'd never known he had. Dana had already lost two children, even if one was of her own doing. He couldn't let anything happen to them. Not for money, not for selfish reasons, not for anything.

The thing was that he'd made a promise, once, to protect his parents. As a child, he'd wanted to be protected, but he wanted to protect his family, too. When his mom and dad had gotten him out of the hospital, before they moved to Norfolk, they'd slept all in one bed because Jackson hated being alone then, he was so, so scared. They didn't think the doctors would come and get him back—"If they did," his dad had growled under his breath, "I'd sue the fucking pants off that place"—but Jackson had been afraid they would. He'd lain in the middle of his parents' bed, one of his favorite places in the whole wide world, and he'd curled into his mom and was so relieved not to be back in that place, where they'd hurt him, and he said in a small voice, "Thanks for saving me."

His mom kissed the top of his head. "Of course, honey. Of course," she whispered. "I never ever ever would've left you in there. Never. We're family, and we look out for each other."

"You protect me, I protect you?" he asked meekly.

His dad laughed a little, tousling his hair. "Sure, buddy. Sure. Although we don't want you to worry about protecting us just yet. That's our job."

But despite his father's words, Jackson had taken it seriously. He'd made a silent promise to protect his parents, all those years ago, and he'd included Ginger, the small, comforting presence at the back of his skull, in that promise. As a child, he really thought he could do it; he wanted to believe he could do it. And he'd forgotten about that promise, even though as he grew stronger and more in control,, it really was something he could do.

But he'd failed. He'd failed his parents, he'd broken his promise, even if it had been a childhood promise, and now they were dead. He could've prevented it if he'd seen the assassins coming, if he'd been ready, but he hadn't. He hadn't. And now they were gone. He couldn't break that promise again.

The longer he lay on the beach, thinking of that promise and of his parents, dead in an ambulance beside him, and of Mulder and Dana and his little sister, who deserved to have a life, the more he knew he had to go back. Not permanently. Not permanently. Only to make sure that they were okay, that they weren't being held captive. And then he had to end it, end it for good this time. Had to make sure he couldn't go back for money, or for nostalgia, or because they missed him. It was too dangerous, too risky. He couldn't have that option there because he would use it, and he would put them in danger all over again. He had to burn his bridges, had to make sure they wouldn't come after him. Had to break their hearts.

---

Scully hadn't touched her food yet. She'd been hungry all day, but she'd found herself unable to eat when Mulder had come in alone, his face split with worry. When he explained that Jackson was upset for some reason, and that he'd run off.

She had insisted on trying to go after him, but Mulder had talked her down. We have no idea where he's gone or how far ahead of us he is, he'd said. And he left because he wants time to himself. I know how scary it is to have him gone, but he doesn't need us to be there every second. He'll probably come back because his car is here, he can't get far without his car or wallet or… She could hear the worry in his voice, and knew that he was trying to reassure himself just as much as her. And she knew it probably wasn't a good idea to run around out there at eight months pregnant, and she knew Mulder wouldn't leave her. Knew that he was right about Jackson needing space. And so they waited, shoulder to shoulder together on the couch like parents waiting for a child who skipped curfew. Mulder held her hand in his, and the food went untouched where it sat on the counter.

The sky was streaked with purple darkness when Jackson finally came back, after what seemed like hours had passed. He burst through the door in an angry sort of way, hunched down and not meeting their eyes. His hair was mussed and he was covered in sand. His entire posture betrayed his emotions: strong, dark, upset.

"Jackson?" Mulder asked, his voice hopeful. He got no answer. Jackson headed straight to the counter, passing the food piled up and heading for the keys he'd left on the counter this morning.

"Jackson, sweetie?" Scully asked, her voice breaking. "Are you… is everything okay?"

"Yeah." His voice was rough, furious. "Yeah, sure, fine."

Scully swallowed hard, and felt Mulder squeeze her hand. "We… we were so worried—"

She was cut off by her son's harsh, mocking laughter. "Really?" he said, throwing his hands out in disbelief, his keys jangling.  He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket. "You were worried? Worried about the son you threw away? Well, that's fucking rich."

If he'd intended to leave her speechless, it had worked. Scully was frozen on the couch, her fingers tangled limply in Mulder's. She had no idea what to say to that; it wasn't exactly untrue. "Jackson… we didn't…" Mulder started uncertainly.

"Oh, you didn't? I'm not sure about that. The way I see it, it seems like you kept me around for about nine months before you got tired of me and gave me up for adoption. And then, you never came looking for me, not once, until it was convenient for you. Until you needed me to make some fucking antidote."

This time, Mulder seemed to be rendered speechless. Scully still couldn't speak; her throat was thick with the onslaught of incoming tears. She had so many things to apologize for, but she couldn't jar the words loose.

Jackson laughed, his voice breaking. "I-I spent six goddamn months in a hospital being poked and prodded and treated like a lab rat… I got saddled with powers I never asked for or understood for some fucked up reason… they murdered my parents, and they tried to kill me for months, and it all fucking started from the moment you gave me up. You wanna pretend we can play house, and be some happy goddamn family? Bullshit. You're only keeping me around in case the world ends, and you need a little lab rat to make your life easier."

That wasn't true. Scully felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sudden need to make things right. "That's not true," she said, and began to sit up, thinking that she would get to her feet and go to her baby and tell him she was sorry and that she loved him and she'd do anything in the world for him, thinking it would all be okay…

But Jackson was still talking. "And I'd hate to see what you're going to do to this new kid. I wonder how long you'll keep her around before disaster strikes. You gonna throw her away, too, when things get tough? What do you think will happen when somebody comes to make her a lab rat?" Mulder made a hurt, defensive sound, and Scully fell back against the couch, weak. All the fight beat out of her. She muffled a sob behind her palm as Jackson finished: "You should just give the kid to me, because as fucked up as I am, I'd probably do a better fucking job at raising it than you two."

Scully shut her eyes. Every single word was one that she deserved, but it still hurt so badly to hear it. It was all of her fears, her guilt, spilled out onto the floor. She should've known that he would say these things eventually, but it still gutted her to the core.

She heard a whimper next to her, and knew that Mulder was crying. She opened her eyes, wiping them with her thumb, just as Jackson said, "I've got to go. I'm leaving now." He had his keys in his hand, and that was when Scully realized he hadn't actually brought in anything from his car. He'd been here less than twenty-four hours; it was like he hadn't even wanted to stay.

He'd turned towards the door, his movements those of an unstoppable freight train, but it didn't stop Scully from trying to stop him. "Jackson..." she whispered, just before the door slammed shut, and she realized then that she didn't know what she would say. She could say I'm sorry, but she'd already said that so many times.

She heard a sniffle from beside her, and then Mulder was wrapping his arms around her, his head leaning on her shoulder. She could feel his tears soaking into her shirt. She bit back tears of her own and wrapped her hands around his, their arms aligned. She held on tight. They sat there for a long time.

---

"It's not going to go that way," he told her later, his arms around her. They were in bed now, him wrapped around her, his chin on her shoulder. She sniffled and said nothing. He kissed her hair. "It's not," he murmured. "We… we're going to do better this time. We're going to be good parents for her."

She didn't have the strength to reply, so she just nodded. She could feel the baby moving under her hand.

"And all those things he said…" he started hesitantly. "You know they're not—"

"No, I know that they are," she whispered. "All of it. All of it was true except the intent."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that. He squeezed her tight, his face buried in her shoulder blade. She could feel his heartbeat against her back. They lay still.

"He told me something," she said after a while, "before… before Spender died. He told me that he knew I love him. And I… I thought he was you. I asked how he could know that. And tonight…" She bit back a shudder. "It just makes me wonder if he really knows, if he'll ever really know. Or understand. If… if any of my children will ever know." She was thinking about Emily, as she often had over the course of this pregnancy, and about William, and about her baby, and she didn't know if she could do this again. She loved them all so much but she didn't know how to do this. How to not fuck it up again.

"You know," Mulder whispered in her ear, "he told me the same thing. Today. While you were napping. I told him you loved him, and he said he knew."

She flinched a little at that; she was wondering what had changed. She'd been thinking that a lot, all day: they'd been having what seemed like a pleasant time, if not a little awkward, he had come to spend time at a beach house with them, and then something had changed in him, and then this. And then the horribleness of this.

"I hope that he knows," she said, because that seemed to be all there was to say. If she had nothing else with him, she could hopefully have that. Even if he resented her, she wanted him to know how much she loved him, and how terribly, terribly sorry she was. "I want him to—" she began, and her voice broke. She couldn't finish.

She could feel the tests welling up, and she pressed her face into Mulder's forearm. "Shhhh," he whispered, nose in her hair, hugging her tight. "It's okay. It's okay. He knows that you love him. And so will she. I… I don't see how they couldn't."

---

The next morning, Scully woke up long before Mulder again, even though she'd fallen asleep very late last night to the gentle sound of Mulder's reassurances. She had to pee, and so she got up to do that, repeating to herself the reassurances Mulder had given her last night. They'd stay the rest of the week, provided she felt well. They deserved some time to themselves. The baby would come in a few weeks, and she would be perfect. They already had the room ready, and everything else ready, and they loved her so much. And maybe someday Jackson would come back. Maybe.

It was cold comfort, all things considered, and she wanted to get her mind off of it. Think about something else. She could hear Daggoo's toenails at the front door, and so she went down to let him out, standing on the front step while he puttered around the yard. Shielding her eyes from the sunrise, she scanned the horizon until her eyes fell on two people standing on the sidewalk behind their house. People she recognized from yesterday; she'd seen them in the yard next door when they were coming back in from the beach. They were looking at her expectantly, like they wanted her to do something, sunglasses pushed up on their heads.

Unsettled, she crossed her arms over herself and called out, "Can I help you?" They didn't seem particularly dangerous, but she didn't want to risk it.

Something like excitement passed over their faces. The woman cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled back, "Are you Dana Scully? From Tad O'Malley's show?"

Annoyance prickled at Scully's spine. She could be grateful to Tad O'Malley for getting her back on the X-Files, or for spreading the rumor of the pandemic, but she sure as hell wasn't grateful for the multiple times he'd referred to her by name. Even if he'd left her out of it the last time, though she probably should've been cited there over Mulder. Despite the favors O'Malley had done for her, she was still a bit disgusted at his ridiculous show. She wasn't sure the last time she'd been mentioned on the show, but she figured it had been a long time ago, and she had no idea why these people remembered it. Nor did she particularly want to spend time in their company.

"Your husband is Fox Mulder?" the man was yelling. "He knows about conspiracies? A global conta—"

"I'm not who you think I am," Scully shouted back irritably, not in the mood for any of this. "Now please get off my property."

Daggoo clambered up on the doorstep beside her and she shooed him inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

It hurt like hell to wake up and find their son gone that morning in July. Scully would be lying if she said it didn't. He'd had the courtesy to leave a note, at least, but it was brief and left little comfort. They'd both been shocked by the abruptness of it; when he'd seen the note, Mulder had recoiled from it like he'd been hit.  

Scully tried not to let it bother her. Tried to tell herself she should expect things like this. Of course he was distant, she told herself; he had every right to be, considering what she had done. He needed space, and she was determined to give it to him. (They waited a week and a half to call him, nervous and shooting each other questioning looks. He didn't answer. They left a brief message, trying to sound cheerful and nonchalant. Mulder reached for her hand when they hung up, squeezing it reassuringly. She couldn't look him in the eye.)

She tried to distract herself. She checked more books out of the library. She researched a scientific article she'd wanted to write ever since her research into the so-called Spartan Virus that hopefully would never make an appearance. She read over the scraps of novel Mulder had written, scribbled notes in the margins. She took Daggoo for walks around the property, Mulder joining her as often as he could. They fell asleep on top of the comforter, Mulder holding her close. (He liked to whisper about the baby in her ear, his hand tangled in her hair. He thought the baby would look like her, just like you, Scully. He was going to love her so much.)

The days grew longer and hotter. They only called Jackson once every two weeks. They told each other that they could limit themselves to that.

Finally, somewhere in the middle of August, Mulder had the idea to take a vacation. Drive to the coast for a few days. "I think we could both use some time to relax," he said gently, coaxing.

"Isn't that what we've been doing?"  Scully snapped. She was irritable and disliked that she was irritable, hating the mood swings of the third trimester. "Relaxing? Or trying to?"

"A change of scenery might help with that," said Mulder. "We won't be rattling around this house with reminders of Jackson, and the baby…"

"What if the baby comes while we're gone? What if I go into early labor? What then?" She was eight months along, and terrified of the baby coming prematurely. She didn't know what her chances were if she came this early.

"We could get a place near a hospital. And besides that, your due date is still several weeks out."

She was quiet. She could feel the baby turning over, moving restlessly, and she let her eyes slide shut. She'd been so worried the whole time, ever since she took those pregnancy tests—she was still worried. She worried nearly every day. She knew at the beginning of this all that it'd be hard to lose another baby, but she didn't realize how hard until she got to know her child. Felt her moving inside of her, and realized that it was all real.

(Not that she thought she was going to lose the baby. But it was a possibility that loomed over her like a black cloud, a possibility that frightened her more than anything. Losing Mulder or Jackson or her baby.)

But she realized as Mulder slipped his arms around her that she did want to go. It was impractical, but not necessarily dangerous, and she wanted to go. She hadn't taken a vacation with Mulder in so long. She thought of him by the ocean, on the island where they'd gone after he'd been exonerated. She thought of a few days away from home, not surrounded by reminders, as Mulder had said, that their son was a sporadic and reluctant presence in their life, and they were about to be new parents again at the age of retirement. She kept her eyes shut as Mulder kissed the back of her head. "Honey… if you don't want to…" he whispered into her hair. "It was just a thought, but I completely understand if it's too much…"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He pushed her hair, growing gradually longer, away from her face with gentle fingers. She sniffled a little, giving him a stern look. "I want to be cautious," she said. "I want to plan things out, and be ready if there's an emergency."

"Of course, of course." He put a reassuring hand to her cheek. "Are you sure?" he said softly. "We don't have to go…"

"I want to go," she whispered. She leaned into him, her back aching, her eyes shutting again. "We need to be careful, but I want to go. I think you're right. I need this."

"What was that, Scully?" he teased in a soft voice. "I was what?"

She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Mulder," she said, pulling back to look him in the eye. "You did promise me a vacation back in March, remember?" And he had, right around the time she'd moved back in.

"I did," he said, remembering. He cupped the side of her head, fingers in her hair, smoothing her cheek. "You'll be okay," he whispered. "The both of you. I promise you that."

---

Within the week, they were driving into Delaware. Mulder had found a little house on the coast that was miraculously for rent, which was within a couple hours of home and not far from a hospital. The best possible scenario. It was a nice house, a nice view, a sprawling screened-in porch that looked out over the ocean. Scully loved it on first sight. "Be nice to the owner," she told him sternly that first night, tucked into his side on the porch swing, listening to the crash of the waves. "If he likes us, he might let us come back in the future."

"Hmm," Mulder said, half asleep. "I'll bring you here every year if you want."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she whispered. She was imagining their baby (their daughter) on that beach, running in and out of the water, and halfway thinking it was a bad idea, but fully not wanting to stop. She watched the churning waves meld with the blackening sky.

The house had a huge bathtub, which may have been Scully's favorite part of the house. She and Mulder climbed in together, him behind her, lathering her hair with gentle fingers. He pressed his face into her wet neck and held her tight. She nearly fell asleep in his arms, the baby turning and flipping as if going for a swim. They left the window open so they could hear the ocean, feel the night breeze. It was perhaps the most relaxed she had felt in months. "This was a nice idea," she whispered, hoping desperately that nothing would go long, hoping that they could just stay here for a week and relax and that nothing would go wrong.

---

In the morning, Scully woke long before Mulder—the baby's restless movements kept her up more often than she liked. As the sun rose over the ocean, she slipped downstairs and took Daggoo out into the yard. He puttered around the square of grass, sniffing before peeing on a tree. Scully placed a hand over her stomach and gazed out towards the ocean. There was a nice breeze, cool for the middle of August, nudging at her hair, her face. She couldn't wait for Mulder to get up. She thought that she never wanted to leave here.

The waves crashed, the sound dim because of her distance from them. Behind her, Daggoo burst into frantic, excited barks. She heard a car engine, and turned around just time to see a car rolling up the gravelly driveway. Jackson's car. She knew before she saw him; she could feel him.

Daggoo whimpered, pawing at her leg. When the car door opened, he went running to meet him.

Scully smiled before she even realized she was doing it. Even though she and Mulder had come up to spend some time alone, she was incredibly happy to see him. Her son. "Hi, Jackson," she said.

Jackson cleared his throat, leaning down to greet Daggoo, scratch the top of his head. "Hi, Dana." Daggoo licked his hand, and he grinned a little. He scooped up the wriggling dog and cradled him like a baby. He met Scully's eyes skittishly, like a stray cat. "I, uh," he said, "was wondering if I could stay a couple days."

Scully didn't need to ask how he had found them. She already knew. She still had a hand on her stomach; she took it away in order to motion towards the door. "Come on in," she said.

---

Jackson hadn't intended to go back. He'd intended for the weekend at their house to be the last time, at least for a while. If not forever. He hadn't meant to come back, for their sakes as much as his own. He wanted the night they watched movies together to be the end of it. And he thought it probably would've been, if he hadn't run out of money.

The warehouse job had fired him. About a week ago, they'd fired him. He didn't really know why. Maybe it was his shitty attitude, maybe it was the weed he had in his car. Maybe they'd figured out that his name and age were fake. Who knew at this point. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know. But he'd lost one of his two jobs, and he was running out of money at a rapid pace. Spending recklessly. He was going to have to cut off some of the streaming services, and maybe the WiFi, if he didn't get smart. He was worried about food, worried about making rent and car insurance and all of it. (The warehouse paid substantially more than Burger King.) He didn't know what the hell he was going to do. Even after he'd had the insane idea to go on fucking vacation with them.

He'd sworn he wasn't going to do this anymore. But he was running out of money, and he knew they'd give it. And a few days at the beach was a few days he didn't have to pay for food, even with the heightened gas costs. (And besides that, he kind of wanted to stay somewhere besides his crummy apartment. Kind of wanted to spend a few goddamn days at the beach. He missed the coast. He wanted a break.)

He'd just stay a little while. Charm them out of some money. Give them one last good memory, and maybe not sneak out in the middle of the damn night this time. That was the idea. That was what drove him to Delaware, windows rolled down, following the road map he could see in Ginger's mind.

At least the dog was happy to see him, if nothing else. At least he had that.

(Not that he necessarily thought Dana wasn't happy to see him. But. He knew that she and Mulder had both been hurt when he'd run off in the middle of the night. He'd felt it, and he didn't like thinking about it. It made him feel small and tangled-up inside. It made him not want to come back.)

Inside the beach house, Scully immediately went to the kitchen, offering food. "Mulder's still asleep, but I can make you some breakfast…" she started.

"You don't need to cook," said Jackson. (He was feeling small and embarrassed and he didn't feel like he could ask for that. He could ask for a few hundred dollars, but he wouldn't ask her to make breakfast.) "I can feed myself."

"I don't mind," she said, scooping coffee grounds into the coffeemaker.

"Seriously, let me do it," he insisted, pushing past her towards the refrigerator. "I've already intruded on your vacation. Might as well make my own breakfast." He pulled a packet of bacon out of the fridge and slapped them on a paper towel, and then on a paper plate. He usually made bacon in the microwave because it was quick, and because he hated bending over the crackling pan and risking a grease burn.

"Help yourself to anything," Dana said gently, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. "Coffee should be ready soon."

"Thank you." He stuck the bacon in the microwave with another slab of paper towel over top before going for the loaf of bread to make toast. He was still avoiding Scully's eyes as he popped slices of bread into the toaster.

Past the kitchen, he heard stairs creaking with footsteps. Daggoo yipped excitedly, prancing out of the kitchen to go and who was presumably Mulder. "Hello, mutt," Jackson heard Mulder say with a dry sort of affection. Scully gave a small chuckle. Jackson didn't turn around, his neck flushed and hot.

More footsteps, and then an abrupt stop in the doorway. A few awkward seconds passed before Mulder said, "Hey, Jackson. Wh-when did you get here?"

He cleared his throat, turning around and offering a sheepish smile. "Just a few minutes ago," he said. "Sorry to intrude." The microwave beeped loudly.

"It's not an intrusion," said Mulder, although he was shooting Scully a questioning look and trying to look like he wasn't. He offered Jackson a broad grin. "You're welcome any time."

"Of course you are," Dana added warmly, and Jackson could practically feel the combination of hope and nerves radiating off of both of them. Hoping that he'd come because he wanted to, and that he'd stay, nervous that he'd run off again. This was why he hadn't wanted to come. He gave a thankful nod, turned towards the microwave and pulled out his plate of bacon. It had nearly burned.

"There's an extra bedroom upstairs. You make yourself at home," Mulder said.

"Thank you, I will," Jackson said. And he would. He would try his best, partially because he wouldn't ask for money right away, unprecedented, but also because he owed them that, at least. Owed them a few nice days where he wasn't being a total ass, especially if this was the last time he'd see them. (And he did intend that, for their sake and for the kid's. He honestly wasn't sure if the danger still existed—all the quiet over the past few months had halfway convinced him it didn't exist—but he didn't want to risk it. Even staying for these few days was stressing him out. Only the fact that he hadn't seen any danger in the past couple months had convinced him that these few days would be okay. This had to be the end.)

Jackson sat down at the table, adjacent to Scully. She and Mulder were discussing breakfast, but he wasn't really listening. He bit off a corner of a slice of toast and looked absently out the window. He saw the house next door, saw the overgrown yard. Saw the two people in sunglasses, standing close together, looking at the beach house and whispering.

---

Jackson stayed quiet. The moody, brooding quiet Mulder recognized from his own teenage years. (Thinking about it, he supposed that he and his son were a lot alike at this stage of their lives. They'd lost a family member, or members, they'd both faded into themselves and the depth of their grief. They'd both had a bad attitude and a martyr complex.) They didn't push him. They wanted to give him space.

(Mulder wasn't upset that Jackson had shown up. He wasn't. He would've loved for him to come along in the first place. The family vacations he'd always wanted to take. But he'd had the idea as a solution to Scully's stress. To give her a chance to relax, take some time for the two of them to rest before their lives were thrown into upheaval. And he was overjoyed to see their son, but he didn't want things to go like last time. It had crushed Scully to find him gone, crushed them both, and he didn't want them to go through that again. He wanted his son to come home and come home for good, wanted the assurance that he would be there every morning.)

They ended up on the beach, the three of them, Jackson sprawled out on a towel with a book on black holes that they'd both smiled a little at. He had sunglasses pushed up on his forehead, and he squinted at the book in the bright sunlight. He didn't look away from the book when he said, "So, how's the kid?"

"Fine," Scully replied. "Restless. I think we'll both be relieved when she gets here."

Jackson was still looking at the book when he said, "It's a girl?" But there was a hint of curiosity in his voice, a hint enough that Mulder caught.

"We think so," he said. "We're not sure yet."

"That's cool." Jackson flipped a page, still not looking at them.

Scully offered, "So, how are your jobs going?"

This made Jackson snap the book closed; he set it on the towel next to him. "Um," he said. "Okay, I guess. I got fired at one."

"Really?" Scully asked, and he nodded, as best as he could nod while lying on the ground. "Oh my god. What happened?"

He shrugged. "Don't think they liked me. Or I wasn't a good employee. Some shit like that."

"Are… are you okay?" Mulder asked, his voice husky with guilt over his initial reaction to Jackson showing up. Of course he'd come; he'd just lost a job, he probably needed help. "Do you need money?"

Jackson bit his lip. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, if it's not too much trouble, I think so."

They didn't even have to look at each other; they both knew they were going to agree before they opened their mouths. "Yes, of course," Scully said quietly, her voice full of a melancholy affection. (They'd both been devastated when he left.) "Whatever you need, sweetie," she said, and he could hear the sincerity. There wasn't a hint of condescension; she meant every word.

"Thank you," Jackson mumbled. He sounded embarrassed. He picked up his book off of the towel and opened it again.

Scully reached for Mulder's hand blindly, found it on the arm of his chair and squeezed it. He squeezed wordlessly back.

After a few moments, the waves pounding the sand and Scully and Jackson turning pages, Jackson asked in the most casual voice possible, "So, you ever had a case about a black hole?"

Mulder grinned. "Not really," he said. "But we met this guy once who thought the secret to alien contact was black holes. He thought it served as some kind of teleportation created by the aliens so that the two cultures could meet without extensive, unrealistic travel times."

Jackson snorted, sitting up on the towel so fast that his sunglasses slipped down and hit the bridge of his nose, his book tumbling into his lap. "Well, that doesn't seem very plausible."

"Thank you," Scully said with a relieved, amused sigh. She was suddenly animated, pushing back the Knicks cap she'd stolen from Mulder and leaning forward to talk to Jackson. "You should've heard the explanations he came up with. It was ridiculous…"

Mulder leaned back, content not to argue very hard. He'd let them gang up on him every day if it meant they could have this.

---

They went inside, later, Jackson and Mulder shouldering the equipment without a word. As they tramped up the path to the beach, Jackson saw the same people from before in the yard next door, leaning together, whispering and pointing. Maybe it was a coincidence, he told himself. He wondered why the goddamn FBI agents hadn't noticed yet, that their neighbors might be watching them.

He tried not to let it phase him. It was probably a coincidence.

After a sparse lunch, Scully promptly fell asleep stretched out on the couch, one arm over her stomach and the other over her eyes. Mulder covered her up with an afghan, tucking it around her. Jackson tried not to watch. He felt awkward around them, like he was intruding.

Mulder smoothed hair off of Dana's forehead and turned to Jackson. "Make yourself at home, kiddo," he said. "Seriously. You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Uh, sure," he said. "Sure, sure. What did you have in mind?"

Mulder shrugged. "I found Back to the Future on the shelf over there. Want to do that?"

Jackson nodded. He used to love those movies; he used to watch them at sleepovers.

When he was little, he used to think that maybe he didn't have a dad, because he never saw him, and because his mom said that single moms were more likely to give up children. He figured he was just gone, that he had left and maybe that was why Ginger had given him up. He'd thought about Ginger more, because he'd been able to feel her, guess that maybe she used to love him, but he used to wonder about his dad. He used to imagine him as a sort of dark romantic hero, someone who loved his mother and him dearly, but had to leave because he had to do something more important. Or maybe to protect them. And he missed them both desperately, but could not risk coming home to find them. But he never knew why he couldn't see him.

Later, he would get visions of that other man, the one who had been manipulating him, and he'd wanted to forget about the idea of a father. He held onto the idea of Ginger right up until the end, but he'd wanted to forget about a birth father.

And then he'd learned the truth. He'd met Mulder. And as much as he didn't want to think of Mulder and Scully as his parents, he was glad that Mulder was his birth father instead of that smoking fucker.

The funniest part of it all seemed to be that the stupid little childhood fantasy seemed to be true, as far as he could tell. He didn't know if Mulder was necessarily a romantic hero or any of that bullshit, but it was clear he'd loved them both, him and Ginger. And he'd left to protect them. Fucking ironic.

Mulder sat at the end of the couch, Scully's feet in his lap. Jackson sprawled out on the floor. The movie was as good as he remembered, but he found it hard to concentrate. He kept thinking about time travel, what he wouldn't give for a DeLorean time machine. He wouldn't go back in time for anything other than saving his parents. And he would give anything for that opportunity. Anything at all.

Midway through the movie, Mulder got up to make popcorn. "Butter?" he asked, and Jackson nodded. He chuckled, pouring kernels into a pot. "You know, your mom believes in time travel," he said.  

It took Jackson a minute to make the connection, but when he did, he was genuinely shocked. From what he'd seen about the two of them, he'd figured Dana was usually the skeptical one. "Really?" he said in response.

"Yeah. Well. The theoretical possibility of it." He grinned absently. "She wrote about it in her senior thesis."

"Wow." Jackson propped himself up on the couch, eyes back on the TV. "Didn't know Dana had it in her."

"She believes in more than you'd expect," he said. "Or that she herself would admit."

"Hmm." Jackson flopped back against the carpet, watching Marty McFly skateboarding through the streets. He could hear Dana breathing sleepily behind him, and it was still strange, strange as hell: to hear her there when she'd only existed in his head for so long.

Mulder walked back over to the couch, his feet squeaking on the floorboards. "She really loves you, you know," he said quietly. "Dana. She loves you so much."

Jackson swallowed hard. Part of him was a little relieved to know these things, that they cared about him, but part of him wished they wouldn't say these things every single time. Part of him wished they didn't have to. "I know," he whispered, though he didn't. He hadn't been sure for a long time.

He couldn't remember the first time he'd seen her, it'd been happening so long. He usually saw her when he was scared or in pain. When he seized. After nightmares. When he was in the hospital, hooked up to machines or choking on gas, curled up in a ball behind a couch in the main room; he'd see her helping children, being the type of doctor that he never ever had, a good doctor instead of an evil one. It had been comforting. He'd held onto that image for so long: Ginger's a good doctor, Ginger would never do this to me. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly imaginative and hopeless: Ginger will come and save me. Ginger will take me home. And she never did. But it was an emotion that he held onto for so long that when he saw her when he was seizing, almost two years ago—when he saw the future, the pandemic and everyone dying and Ginger saying that she needed to find him—he'd thought that maybe it was true. Maybe she could save him, and his parents. That was why he'd sent her dreams after what happened with Bri and Sarah; he'd been hoping that she could help him. Be the Ginger he always saw in his dreams.

She'd let him down in that regard; she hadn't been able to save him or his parents. It had taken ages for him to forgive her for that. But she wasn't necessarily different from the woman he had seen all his life. Not really.

He remembered seeing her once when he was about three or four, asleep, curled into a protective sort of ball around a small, ratty stuffed animal. At the time, he'd thought it was strange for an adult to sleep with a toy the way that he did, but now he understood why. It was his, that rabbit they'd shown him the last time. She had been missing him, so she'd held onto his rabbit to create some kind of connection with him. She'd missed him, the way he'd always hoped she had.

That was how he knew that Mulder was telling the truth. He thought a part of him might've always known. He just wasn't sure whether or not to believe it.

He lay flat on the carpet, eating the popcorn Mulder made and watching Marty McFly manipulate his parents together, trying not to imagine a universe where his entire life went differently.

---

After Scully woke up, she and Mulder played several games of Scrabble at the table while Jackson read his book on the couch, Daggoo's head resting on his thigh. He was tense for reasons he couldn't exactly explain, jumping at sharp noises, eyes darting over to the window or door constantly. He thought it might've had something to do with the people he'd spotted watching them twice today, but he told himself he was being ridiculous. They were probably just nosy neighbors. Mulder and Scully didn't seem worried at all; they were teasing each other, and bickering over what qualified as a word or not, and they didn't seem to be on edge.

Jackson was probably just imagining it. He told himself again and again that he was just imagining it.

Later that afternoon, Mulder offered to go and pick up some food for dinner. "So neither of us have to cook and you don't have to bother with going out," he said to Scully, smoothing hair away from her face.

"You're sweet," she said in a dry voice that landed somewhere between authenticity and sarcasm. "But you don't have to go pick something up, Mulder…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I know you've been craving crab since before we got here." He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, and she made a face at him. "You sit tight, I'll be back in a little bit," he said, before turning to Jackson, who'd been trying very hard to ignore them on the other side of the room. It was even more uncomfortable than usual to be around them when they were being like this. His parents had loved each other and everything, but they'd never been so overtly fucking affectionate.

"Jack? You want to ride along?" Mulder asked, his face a mask of casualness.

He weighed his options—going with Mulder or staying back with Dana—and decided that Mulder was actively the better choice. "Sure," he said, getting to his feet and grabbing his phone.

"Make sure to get some calamari," said Dana, unphased, picking her book up off the couch. "Drive safe."

"Says the horrible driver," Mulder said, kissing the top of her head. "Be back in a few."

Jackson, already halfway towards the door, felt as if he should say something, at least. He turned around and offered an awkward little wave. "Bye, Dana."

She gave him a huge smile over the top of his book that made him feel guilty and like a five-year-old all over again. Trying not to squirm, he gave her a trembly smile back. He wasn't sure how sincere it was; he felt like he owed it for her, but he also felt a little bit like he meant it.

---

The drive was mostly uneventful. Jackson looked up the menu of the restaurant on his phone so he could pick out his order. Mulder asked him questions about sports teams, basketball and baseball, and this was an easy topic; Jackson could talk about meaningless things like sports for hours. It was easy to fall into these kinds of conversations, as long as it didn't get too emotional.

It wasn't until they got home that the feeling of unease settled back into Jackson's gut. He saw the neighbors again, huddled at the fence between the two houses, their phones raised like they were taking photos of the house.

His heart was beating too fast, a lump in his throat, and he clutched the bags of takeout so hard they left red imprints on his palm. He stared at the neighbors, a man and a woman, until one of them turned towards him. The distance and the dark lenses of the sunglasses they were wearing made it difficult to discern their expression, but Jackson knew he was looking at him.

"Mulder," he said quietly, not wanting to break eye contact, but when Mulder didn't respond, he turned towards the car and said, "Mulder," more pointedly.

Mulder, who'd been rummaging through the glove compartment, stood up straight. "Sorry, I just realized I forgot napkins, and I wanted to see if we had any stashed in here," he said. "What's up?"

"D-do you see those people over there?" Jackson said in a rush, turning in that direction. "The people in the next ya—" But when he turned, he only saw an empty fence. They were gone.

Mulder squinted in that direction, his hand shielding his eyes. "I don't see anyone," he said. "Why?"

Jackson gritted his teeth together. He was scared, and he didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to go, and he was afraid that these people were exactly what he thought. And he needed the money, and he didn't want to leave, didn't want to hurt them unnecessarily, but he had seen these people all day. They were watching the house. They weren't dressed like assassins, like the people who had killed his parents or came after him, but maybe they'd improved in covertness. Maybe they were trying to lull the goddamn FBI agents into a false sense of security. They were after him, and he was putting them in danger, and he didn't think they'd gone after Scully yet, if they were only taking pictures of the house, but Jesus Christ, what if they had? What if they were going to come later? What the hell could he do? He couldn't let this happen again.

"Jackson?" Mulder asked. His hand landed gently on Jackson's shoulder, probably meant to comfort or to get his attention, but Jackson still jumped a mile. Mulder snatched his hand away, but he didn't move away; his eyes were still full of worry. "Are you okay?"

He bit down on his lip so hard it bled. "Fine," he said, nearly spitting. "Fine, fine. I…" He put the takeout bags down on the seat abruptly. "I'm going for a run." Let them come after me, he thought. Fucking chase me if they want. But not them. Not the kid.

"R-right now?" Mulder said with a nervous little laugh. "What about your food?"

"Whatever, I'll eat later." His heart was thumping too fast; he felt like he was going to vomit.

Mulder's eyes were wide and full of worry; he reached out to touch his shoulder, but drew back immediately. "Buddy, why don't you come inside?" he said softly. "If something's wrong… we can talk about it."

"No," he snapped. Couldn't go in, couldn't lead the assassins there, couldn't find out whether or not Ginger was already hurt or dead… He had to believe she was fine, that they wouldn't have made a move when he wasn't there. "I gotta go, I gotta go," he said, and then he turned and took off running. Went towards the beach, even though he knew it'd be a pain in the ass to run on, because he figured that if they were going to try to kill him, he should try to fight them off somewhere semi-private. So that nobody else would get hurt, not the people who were uninvolved and didn't deserve to get tangled up in the middle.

Mulder called his name, his voice full of concern, but Jackson didn't look back.

---

He ran for nearly half an hour before he figured out they weren't pursuing him. He fell to the sand with exhaustion, blood pulsing through him, panting and gasping for air. It took forever for him to catch his breath. He lay on the cool sand, eyes shut, the waves crashing behind him.

He might question why the assassins hadn't come after him already, but then again, he might think of the fact that the assassins could have gone in the house, that they could have Mulder and Scully and were holding them captive to lure him back. Maybe he shouldn't have left so hastily. Maybe that wouldn't help a damn thing.

The thing was that he had to protect him. They weren't his parents, but they were his parents, and he couldn't let anything happen to them. Them or the baby, which might be a girl, and he'd already lost a sister that he'd never known he had. Dana had already lost two children, even if one was of her own doing. He couldn't let anything happen to them. Not for money, not for selfish reasons, not for anything.

The thing was that he'd made a promise, once, to protect his parents. As a child, he'd wanted to be protected, but he wanted to protect his family, too. When his mom and dad had gotten him out of the hospital, before they moved to Norfolk, they'd slept all in one bed because Jackson hated being alone then, he was so, so scared. They didn't think the doctors would come and get him back—"If they did," his dad had growled under his breath, "I'd sue the fucking pants off that place"—but Jackson had been afraid they would. He'd lain in the middle of his parents' bed, one of his favorite places in the whole wide world, and he'd curled into his mom and was so relieved not to be back in that place, where they'd hurt him, and he said in a small voice, "Thanks for saving me."

His mom kissed the top of his head. "Of course, honey. Of course," she whispered. "I never ever ever would've left you in there. Never. We're family, and we look out for each other."

"You protect me, I protect you?" he asked meekly.

His dad laughed a little, tousling his hair. "Sure, buddy. Sure. Although we don't want you to worry about protecting us just yet. That's our job."

But despite his father's words, Jackson had taken it seriously. He'd made a silent promise to protect his parents, all those years ago, and he'd included Ginger, the small, comforting presence at the back of his skull, in that promise. As a child, he really thought he could do it; he wanted to believe he could do it. And he'd forgotten about that promise, even though as he grew stronger and more in control,, it really was something he could do.

But he'd failed. He'd failed his parents, he'd broken his promise, even if it had been a childhood promise, and now they were dead. He could've prevented it if he'd seen the assassins coming, if he'd been ready, but he hadn't. He hadn't. And now they were gone. He couldn't break that promise again.

The longer he lay on the beach, thinking of that promise and of his parents, dead in an ambulance beside him, and of Mulder and Dana and his little sister, who deserved to have a life, the more he knew he had to go back. Not permanently. Not permanently. Only to make sure that they were okay, that they weren't being held captive. And then he had to end it, end it for good this time. Had to make sure he couldn't go back for money, or for nostalgia, or because they missed him. It was too dangerous, too risky. He couldn't have that option there because he would use it, and he would put them in danger all over again. He had to burn his bridges, had to make sure they wouldn't come after him. Had to break their hearts.

---

Scully hadn't touched her food yet. She'd been hungry all day, but she'd found herself unable to eat when Mulder had come in alone, his face split with worry. When he explained that Jackson was upset for some reason, and that he'd run off.

She had insisted on trying to go after him, but Mulder had talked her down. We have no idea where he's gone or how far ahead of us he is, he'd said. And he left because he wants time to himself. I know how scary it is to have him gone, but he doesn't need us to be there every second. He'll probably come back because his car is here, he can't get far without his car or wallet or… She could hear the worry in his voice, and knew that he was trying to reassure himself just as much as her. And she knew it probably wasn't a good idea to run around out there at eight months pregnant, and she knew Mulder wouldn't leave her. Knew that he was right about Jackson needing space. And so they waited, shoulder to shoulder together on the couch like parents waiting for a child who skipped curfew. Mulder held her hand in his, and the food went untouched where it sat on the counter.

The sky was streaked with purple darkness when Jackson finally came back, after what seemed like hours had passed. He burst through the door in an angry sort of way, hunched down and not meeting their eyes. His hair was mussed and he was covered in sand. His entire posture betrayed his emotions: strong, dark, upset.

"Jackson?" Mulder asked, his voice hopeful. He got no answer. Jackson headed straight to the counter, passing the food piled up and heading for the keys he'd left on the counter this morning.

"Jackson, sweetie?" Scully asked, her voice breaking. "Are you… is everything okay?"

"Yeah." His voice was rough, furious. "Yeah, sure, fine."

Scully swallowed hard, and felt Mulder squeeze her hand. "We… we were so worried—"

She was cut off by her son's harsh, mocking laughter. "Really?" he said, throwing his hands out in disbelief, his keys jangling.  He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket. "You were worried? Worried about the son you threw away? Well, that's fucking rich."

If he'd intended to leave her speechless, it had worked. Scully was frozen on the couch, her fingers tangled limply in Mulder's. She had no idea what to say to that; it wasn't exactly untrue. "Jackson… we didn't…" Mulder started uncertainly.

"Oh, you didn't? I'm not sure about that. The way I see it, it seems like you kept me around for about nine months before you got tired of me and gave me up for adoption. And then, you never came looking for me, not once, until it was convenient for you. Until you needed me to make some fucking antidote."

This time, Mulder seemed to be rendered speechless. Scully still couldn't speak; her throat was thick with the onslaught of incoming tears. She had so many things to apologize for, but she couldn't jar the words loose.

Jackson laughed, his voice breaking. "I-I spent six goddamn months in a hospital being poked and prodded and treated like a lab rat… I got saddled with powers I never asked for or understood for some fucked up reason… they murdered my parents, and they tried to kill me for months, and it all fucking started from the moment you gave me up. You wanna pretend we can play house, and be some happy goddamn family? Bullshit. You're only keeping me around in case the world ends, and you need a little lab rat to make your life easier."

That wasn't true. Scully felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sudden need to make things right. "That's not true," she said, and began to sit up, thinking that she would get to her feet and go to her baby and tell him she was sorry and that she loved him and she'd do anything in the world for him, thinking it would all be okay…

But Jackson was still talking. "And I'd hate to see what you're going to do to this new kid. I wonder how long you'll keep her around before disaster strikes. You gonna throw her away, too, when things get tough? What do you think will happen when somebody comes to make her a lab rat?" Mulder made a hurt, defensive sound, and Scully fell back against the couch, weak. All the fight beat out of her. She muffled a sob behind her palm as Jackson finished: "You should just give the kid to me, because as fucked up as I am, I'd probably do a better fucking job at raising it than you two."

Scully shut her eyes. Every single word was one that she deserved, but it still hurt so badly to hear it. It was all of her fears, her guilt, spilled out onto the floor. She should've known that he would say these things eventually, but it still gutted her to the core.

She heard a whimper next to her, and knew that Mulder was crying. She opened her eyes, wiping them with her thumb, just as Jackson said, "I've got to go. I'm leaving now." He had his keys in his hand, and that was when Scully realized he hadn't actually brought in anything from his car. He'd been here less than twenty-four hours; it was like he hadn't even wanted to stay.

He'd turned towards the door, his movements those of an unstoppable freight train, but it didn't stop Scully from trying to stop him. "Jackson..." she whispered, just before the door slammed shut, and she realized then that she didn't know what she would say. She could say I'm sorry, but she'd already said that so many times.

She heard a sniffle from beside her, and then Mulder was wrapping his arms around her, his head leaning on her shoulder. She could feel his tears soaking into her shirt. She bit back tears of her own and wrapped her hands around his, their arms aligned. She held on tight. They sat there for a long time.

---

"It's not going to go that way," he told her later, his arms around her. They were in bed now, him wrapped around her, his chin on her shoulder. She sniffled and said nothing. He kissed her hair. "It's not," he murmured. "We… we're going to do better this time. We're going to be good parents for her."

She didn't have the strength to reply, so she just nodded. She could feel the baby moving under her hand.

"And all those things he said…" he started hesitantly. "You know they're not—"

"No, I know that they are," she whispered. "All of it. All of it was true except the intent."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that. He squeezed her tight, his face buried in her shoulder blade. She could feel his heartbeat against her back. They lay still.

"He told me something," she said after a while, "before… before Spender died. He told me that he knew I love him. And I… I thought he was you. I asked how he could know that. And tonight…" She bit back a shudder. "It just makes me wonder if he really knows, if he'll ever really know. Or understand. If… if any of my children will ever know." She was thinking about Emily, as she often had over the course of this pregnancy, and about William, and about her baby, and she didn't know if she could do this again. She loved them all so much but she didn't know how to do this. How to not fuck it up again.

"You know," Mulder whispered in her ear, "he told me the same thing. Today. While you were napping. I told him you loved him, and he said he knew."

She flinched a little at that; she was wondering what had changed. She'd been thinking that a lot, all day: they'd been having what seemed like a pleasant time, if not a little awkward, he had come to spend time at a beach house with them, and then something had changed in him, and then this. And then the horribleness of this.

"I hope that he knows," she said, because that seemed to be all there was to say. If she had nothing else with him, she could hopefully have that. Even if he resented her, she wanted him to know how much she loved him, and how terribly, terribly sorry she was. "I want him to—" she began, and her voice broke. She couldn't finish.

She could feel the tests welling up, and she pressed her face into Mulder's forearm. "Shhhh," he whispered, nose in her hair, hugging her tight. "It's okay. It's okay. He knows that you love him. And so will she. I… I don't see how they couldn't."

---

The next morning, Scully woke up long before Mulder again, even though she'd fallen asleep very late last night to the gentle sound of Mulder's reassurances. She had to pee, and so she got up to do that, repeating to herself the reassurances Mulder had given her last night. They'd stay the rest of the week, provided she felt well. They deserved some time to themselves. The baby would come in a few weeks, and she would be perfect. They already had the room ready, and everything else ready, and they loved her so much. And maybe someday Jackson would come back. Maybe.

It was cold comfort, all things considered, and she wanted to get her mind off of it. Think about something else. She could hear Daggoo's toenails at the front door, and so she went down to let him out, standing on the front step while he puttered around the yard. Shielding her eyes from the sunrise, she scanned the horizon until her eyes fell on two people standing on the sidewalk behind their house. People she recognized from yesterday; she'd seen them in the yard next door when they were coming back in from the beach. They were looking at her expectantly, like they wanted her to do something, sunglasses pushed up on their heads.

Unsettled, she crossed her arms over herself and called out, "Can I help you?" They didn't seem particularly dangerous, but she didn't want to risk it.

Something like excitement passed over their faces. The woman cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled back, "Are you Dana Scully? From Tad O'Malley's show?"

Annoyance prickled at Scully's spine. She could be grateful to Tad O'Malley for getting her back on the X-Files, or for spreading the rumor of the pandemic, but she sure as hell wasn't grateful for the multiple times he'd referred to her by name. Even if he'd left her out of it the last time, though she probably should've been cited there over Mulder. Despite the favors O'Malley had done for her, she was still a bit disgusted at his ridiculous show. She wasn't sure the last time she'd been mentioned on the show, but she figured it had been a long time ago, and she had no idea why these people remembered it. Nor did she particularly want to spend time in their company.

"Your husband is Fox Mulder?" the man was yelling. "He knows about conspiracies? A global conta—"

"I'm not who you think I am," Scully shouted back irritably, not in the mood for any of this. "Now please get off my property."

Daggoo clambered up on the doorstep beside her and she shooed him inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

[beanyboobee]

The Prince and his Witch, Chapter 1  (Prinxiety)

Ship:Prinxiety (RomanxVirgil)

Setting:Fantasy AU

Plot:

 Prince of the Cosalona, Prince Roman Sanders , is set to be the next in line for the throne. As his father fall’s ill, He is left to be crowned early, however there is a catch, In order to inherit the crown he must be married. The only problem, Roman has trouble settling down, and in return has had many crushes that all ended in vain, He eventually gave up on searching for love, that was- until an old frienimie showed up before him... 

Meet Virgil Anxly, The son of a well known Sorcerer and Healer, His Father is close friends with the newly ill king, and since a young age has been dragged to the palace as his Father was summoned by the King, let it be for assistance or friendly chats. In return he had the unfortunate fate to be forced into the presence of Prince Roman, an- (In Virgils words) self-obsessed, spoiled, idealist. 

However, They haven't seen each other since the age of 15, now 22, He is dragged back to the Palace, and when face to face with who he considered ‘the bane of his existence’ he feels- odd... 

Will feelings finally bloom between these two? or will they be stuck in their childish hatred? 

And when an old enemy shows up to crash the party, Leaving Virgil under the effects of a curse, and Roman having no way of knowing how to reverse the effects, what will become of our two protagonists?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inspired by “The Swan Princess.” mostly the song “far longer than forever” from it. Ive seen obsessed with it for ages now, and my mind wont rest till i make a fic on it, however i dont feel like making a full fic right now, so instead im going to focus on a two-shot, (maybe) But if you guys like the idea and wish for me to expand on it. Please do let me know and ill see what i can do ;))

Also sorry if this chapter is poorly written, it is literally 3am and i am so tireeed i just needed to get this out of my system.  WARNING next chapter is basically what ties everything together and explains why the parents are so set on these two getting together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the morning sun creeped over the peek of the city's old bell tower, The soft chatter from the streets below caused a buzz to fill the crisp mid-day air, As the market square began to fill up with stall-keepers who were either offering their assistance to those who seemed well paid, or those who littered the paths browsing the stalls in wonderment. 

Some children running along the cobbled roads, giggling and laughing as they did so, other’s seeming to be rolling the metal lining of a barrel top, as some sort of make-shift hoop.All in all it was a rather calm and  basic morning in a town with-in the kingdom of Cosalona, Busy, yet- with a relaxed aura.. 

Many wouldn't even spare a glance to the simple wooden carriage that seemed to carefully maneuver it’s way down the stone path, As with-in this certain city, passing carriage’s were the norm. Seeing as the town was so near the beautiful palace it was no surprise.

However despite the basic out-look of the middle-class carriage, inside it held two rather important figures in the eye’s of the king. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~inside the carriage~~~~~~~~~~~

With-in the carriage sat a young man around the age of 22, his pale hand rested against his cheek as he slanted by the window broadly, Locks of what seemed like a dark purple hair, grazed his forehead in almost a ticklish manner, as they softly fell, brushing against his dark lashes, Eyes that seemed the colour of Mahogany in the afternoons light, held a cloud of uncertainty and confliction. Linned in a fashion that could scream to anyone, 

‘I am rethinking all my decisions up to this point, at this very moment’

of course, that would probably be tad bit of exaggeration, however you would most likely not catch onto this unless looking rather closely for you see, there always seemed to be this sort of powdery black substance, beneath the water line of these fixated eyes. It seemed to act as some sort of distraction, from what? who knows. But- that is not what we are questioning right now.. 

Along with this young man, was a clearly older man, who seemed around is late 40′s, that- or if he was older, time was very good to him, He held a stern look, dark hair that was pulled back by a ribbon into some sort of messy bun, done by no doubt his wife, earlier that morning before the trip, a neatly groomed beard, that in all honesty didn't deserve the tital, as it seemed to be more of- stubble, then a beard in all honesty. 

heavy bags hung beneath his eyes, that almost seemed to resemble the boy’s in front of him, only- dark... and more full of- wisdom and knowledge. In his left hand was a simple, yet smooth, oak cane, that was firmly pressed his the carriage floor. 

All was silent in the mode of transport. Only the sound of the grinding stones beneath them and horses hoofs ahead of them, filling the air, with a soft, 

‘click- clok- click- kreec’

That is- until the older decided to speak-

His tone was deep, almost smooth, if it weren't for the obvious dryness of his throat. 

“Virgil.”

He called, grabbing enough of the younger’s attention, for the one clad in a dark cloke to straighten in his seat, gaze dancing towards the wiser gaze. A hum of reconcision leaving his lips. This was enough for the hard gaze of the gent to soften, 

“you’ve been rather quite. I know you dont enjoy these trips but-” he paused.       “They will help you grow as a healer- i hope you know this, i only do it in your best interest... but just this once- please- Please try to get along with the Prince,”

The boy now known of Virgil made a look is displeasure, and opened his mouth to speak, only to be stopped once again by the partially grey haired male. 

“I know! you dont like him! hate him even- but just for me, please, dont cause a ruckus.. im sure you're old enough to realize- he might be going through a rough time, with his father falling ill, and he could use a hand, and seeing as he will be the future ruler. it would do you some good to stay in his good books, you always wanted to be a top notch healer right?” 

his tone was stern yet had a fatherly softness to it, as he kept eye contact with the smaller.

Virgil didn't feel a need to reply to that, He knew his father was correct, so instead gave a light nod, moving his gaze back towards the window. Taking this as a sign of a finished conversation, The aged man gave a small smile, and a satisfied hum, about to return his gaze to the carriage window also, before a quieter voice spoke up, still deep, but with a softness to it, almost shy. 

“i’ll try, But i dont make any promises. “ 

The Fathers gaze shifted towards the young adult in surprise, before letting out a breathy chuckle, followed by a few coughs.

“That is all i can ask of you son, try. Besides, who knows~ by the end of this you two might be the opposite of what you began as” 

A smirk itched it’s way to his lips, a mischievous glint shinning in the old souls eyes, 

This simple statement seeming to steer something up in the black and purple haired boy, as he jolted up so fast, his sharp cheek bones now on full display, as his pale complexion turned into a crimson painting,                                               A sound that resembled that of a stumbling fool left his lips as he tried to find his words, once the words were found they were spat out in a frenzy,

“if by that you mean dead? then please!”

~~~~~~~~~~At the palace~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“MOTHER PLEASE! YOU MUST BE JOKING!” 

echoed through the halls, in a tone that almost seemed scandalized. 

The sheer surprise of the the loud exclamation causing a near by maid to almost drop the tray of china she carried. However she was lucky enough to have fast enough reflexes to balance out the tray before any mishaps. 

Sighing in relief, her gaze moved down the hall to the source of the disturbance, knowing damn well who that voice belonged to, if you were you were to follow it, it would no doubt lead you towards the study, that currently held what most would call, an Average looking Queen, and her seemingly scandalized son.

The Queen stood tall, a gloved hand raised to her lips as she did her best to hid her amused smile, by unfolding a white pristine fan, with a quick flip, aware that her amusement would only fuel her sons dramatic moment. 

Dark eyes somehow remaining calm as ever, as she watched the Prince pace the room, arms frailing about and waving madly, as he ranted, The Queen had learned to tune out of these ramblings, as most of the time, it was simply him rephrasing the same sentence on repeat, using a variety of different words to express his distraught and aggravated state.

I mean, of course, How dare she, his own Mother! suggest such a vile thought! the thought of- of- BEFRIENDING! that creature of the night! that- that! irritating! INSUFFERABLE! LITTLE WITCH! that somehow always found a way to get under Roman’s skin when ever he decided to make an appearance!

Of course- he supposed it wasn't compleatly like Virgil had a choose- he himself didn't seem to want to be anywhere near Roman either. It was simply for their parents convineance, Much to Roman’s dismay, he didn't take very kindly to Mr.Dark and gloomy. Of course- it had been many years since they had last seen each other.. even so! no one could make such a drastic change to make his company any sort of bearable. HE WASN'T EVEN ATTRACTIVE!                   ( in Romans eye’s anyway.)

Non the less the pacing continued, His Mother decided that she should shut her son down now, before things got too out of hand, so with a gentle sigh, she clasped the fragile fan down to her opened, and gloved palm. The sound of the slap loud enough, to drag Roman’s attention towards her, silencing him, and keeping him in place, arms lowering as his peircing Pine green gaze, caught to her Oak wood own.

“My dear one, you can rant all you like, but i am simply doing this for your own benifit. The Anxly family are very good to us, and in return we keep them as our family healer’s and sourceres, And we expect when you take over, to do the same. The both of you, are no longer children so please dont act as such, you will be personally meeting Virgil in the Gardens any hour now! so please! go get ready! Unless you plan to give off an unprofessional appearance.”

with a few steps forward, she raised a hand, and brushed a Tawny brown, stray curl from Romans temple, brushing it behind his ear, her gaze lingering on him for a quite moment, before she sighed openly, speaking once more, only this time more quieter.

“i know you two never started off on the right foot, but im sure this time will be different, from what i’ve heard he has turned into quite the gent! believe it or not.”

she couldn't help but praise, removing her hand to brush back a strand of her own light hair, that fell from behind her ear, 

“just- give it a chance. you know William is a good friend to your Father’s.” 

The Queen added, a sadness almost seeming to gloss over her gaze, at the mention of the King, thats what broke Roman. 

Seeing his mother in such a state he knew he would have to give in, But meeting in the gardens? he didn't see the point? shouldn't they be meeting somewhere more professionally? and why was everyone so hooked up on Virgil? unless-

a deep frown carved it’s way onto the Prince’s lips, squinting slightly, in almost a suspicious glare, as he spoke his thoughts out loud. 

“Mother, You're making this sound an awful lot like a potential suitor...”

That is when the Queen froze, Her cheeks pinkening ever so slightly, as her gaze moved just above Roman’s shoulder, looking as though she didn’t know what to say, Roman knew this look very well, and he didn't like what it was implying...

~~~~~~~~~1 hour till the long awaited meeting~~~~~~~

“I REFUSE TO KISS HIS HAND AGAIN! NOPE! NO! DENIED! ONCE WAS ENOUGH! WE MAY OF BEEN 12 BUT IM STILL TRAMTISED!!”

Roman complained loudly, As the tailor circled him, pinning and re-stitching,The white and scarlet finery, A small bundle of laughter leaving said tailor, as he listened to the Prince’s ramblings, 

“Im sure it isn’t as terrible as you’re making it out to be my Prince! i for one know Virgil personally, and he isn't that bad, He is actually quite sweet!”

 He hummed, sticking a pin into the small sponge patch that was attached to his arm, using a tightly secure blue ribbon for security, before reaching up and pushing up the circle lenses glasses, that were managing to slip down his nose, Blue eyes looking up through his lashes, from his place kneeling on the floor, grinning slightly. 

This however only made Roman whine even more, 

“Patton! you're not helping my case here! my case being! there is no way in all the 6 kingdoms i would ever even consider Tall,Dark and dreary a candidate for a friend never mind a husband!”

The prince all but huffed, arms crossing out of habbit, only to quickly straighten them out into a T pose once more, with a yelp, as 3 small pearl headed pin prodded him sharply, giving our lovely prince a small jump. 

“Heheh sorry kiddio! only speaking my mind “

The tailor couldn't help but muse, his gaze moving back down to the task at hand, re hemming this cursed hem of the princely jacket.                                       A half hearted glare was shot Pattons way by none other then Roman,

Before the Queen who was quietly observing this interaction spoke,

“My son i am not asking you to marry him, i simply wish for you two to talk things out and maybe get along. you managed it when you were bother 5! im sure you can do it once again, and if a little bit of woowing! happens along the way, then so be it, a point to me, if not. I’ll be satisfied knowing you have a allay thats a gifted healer.”

she explained further, having almost a tiredness to her voice, like she had explained this many times, even so, she couldn't deny this feeling she had inside, that somehow- she could feel That Roman was meant to meet Virgil, that there was meant to be something more between them. Then solid hatred.

She saw it the first day the two met.. when Roman took that shy boy’s hand,Smiling brightly as he introduced himself, and how he thought Virgil was pretty, before finally ledding the quite child, who looked at Roman in awe,down the long corridor, The small prince exclaiming how they were going to play in the garden.                     

To their final meeting at 15, where she could swear she saw Virgil nearly reach for Roman’s hand when walking down that exact same corridor only to retract it just as fast. Or how when Roman fell and cut his knee, After Virgil said he hadn't gotten the chance to test his healing on any-body yet, These small things, They didn't think she noticed, but- she did. 

Even so, she couldn't deny, that right now all of this was seeming like a waste of energy, She knew her son was stubborn, she blamed herself on that one, But she couldn't help it, she just had this feeling...

Roman stared back at the middle age women, his frown still playing against his lips, He knew he had no way of escaping this situation so instead. Let out a breath of air, 

“look fine, i’ll play along with your little ‘be nice’ charade”                                       his eyes rolled for emphasis on his un-satisfaction.

“BUT! i will NOT have any interest in him, not before,nor after this meeting. He is simply a possible ally. nothing more, nothing less. so please- dont get your hopes up Mother” he huffed.

His Mother smiled,

 “of course Roman! dont worry about a thing dear, i’ll keep my hopes low” 

she sighed in contentment, he gaze landing on Pattons, earning a grin from the tailor, who she has come to welcome with open arms.                      She simply smiled back, they both knew. Knew something was about to unfold from right under their noses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~With Virgil and his fatherly unit~~~~~

It had been approximately 40 minuets since they have arrived, and with no time to spare, Virgils Father had opened up all their chest’s of clothing and ordered Virgil to change into something more proper when meeting the Prince,

He didn't quite understand why, seeing as in their previous meetings Virgil simply wore his usual cloke and some old clothes, messy, unkempt hair, and over all looked like a mess. Why was now any more important then those times? However he didn't dwell on the thought any longer, settling for the explanation of, They were older now, and Roman would soon be King, So it was only right to be proper in his presence, Even so,

Virgil knew that as soon as they were out of sight from their parents insults would more then likely be thrown. Shins kicked and bruised, the usual. 

So without any hassle, Virgil began to change, tugging on the Mulberry colored shirt, buttoning it up carefully, worried he might miss a button, or crinkle the shirt if he moved to fast, after all, Patton did work hard to make it and sent it all the way out to him, earlier that year. 

He was almost shocked it still fit, He then continued to change in silence,

black waist coat, raisin colored suit pants, brushed out hair,(for once styles, due to fathers orders) and finally his good old, tattered cloke, black in color, and decorated with different patches, all different shades of purple. 

Once his father seen him leave the changing area, he lit up more than Virgil had ever seen him, it almost made him flush, However his embarrassment was cut short when his Father whipped out a wash cloth and he knew what was coming, no matter how many times he pleaded, it was futile, His black under eye powder was cleaned away. well most of it was, there was still some under his eye, that gave a slightly smoky effect, 

Virgil felt naked without it, but he suppose still having a little bit of it, was better then having none of it. So he sucked it up, and sighed looking to his Dad, as they exited their room, beginning the departure, down the halls towards a familer garden, it wasn't till then, Virgil asked out loud,

“why is it you wanted me to get all dressed up? Princey and i are just talking over our differences right?”

He couldn't help himself in asking, This caused the older beside him to stop for a moment, cane making a very distinctive sound when it touched the tile, He seemed to be thinking over something and Virgil wondered what, That is- untill he got his answer, and when he did- he couldn't stop himself from stumbling backwards, he was shocked to the point he didn't see, nor hear Patton from ahead of them, instead he took one deep breath and took off in the opposite direction.

[glowstickhaloboy]

i just spent an hour typing this klance sleeping beauty/witch AU in a text

one day lance wakes up in a forest with few memories and no idea how he got there. He stumbles upon a stone dias with a veiled, sleeping young man on it and figures he’s dreaming and that’s got to be the part of himself that’s going to wake up eventually. 

Then a bear comes crashing out of the trees, and Lance knows he can’t let the bear hurt himself or... himself?? Whatever. So he manages to draw it under a loose boulder and then topple the rock down on it. Then the bear transforms into a big brown man who says his name is hunk and thanks lance profusely for changing him back. 

“The wicked monarch lotor doesn’t mind using curses on anyone, no matter how insignificant,” he says. Then he sees the sleeping person on the dias and asks if he hurt the prince, and lance is like ??? 

So hunk explains that lotor cursed the rightful heir to the throne to sleep forever, then brought him into the middle of the woods so he would never be found, and hunk, the unfortunate stable boy who had been tasked with transporting him here, had been turned into a bear to attack anyone who got too close. 

At this point lance is like, “wait, im not dreaming?? And that dude is a real person?? Okay so uhh sounds like this monarch is totally evil and we should get this sleeping guy back on the throne??? Whys he asleep how do we wake him up??”

And hunks like “shrug.” 

So lance is like “WELL ive got quite a reputation for being a dashing hero” 

“oh really whats your name” 

“uh, the names LANCE” 

“GASP LANCELOT??” 

“Ye-! What, no, who is that wtf” 

“oh then ive never heard of you” 

“whatever shut up you’ll have heard of me after we pull this off together, lets get this guy to a town or something and tell the people whats going on, that way theyll know lotor is a fake” 

“oh its not going to be that easy,” says hunk, ever the man of exposition. “lotor has guards everywhere, at gates and bridges and checkpoints on the roads to every town, nobody can get in anywhere with anything secret, especially not so blatantly carrying a body”

but then they meet a group of smugglers!! Led by allura and pidge, the strategist and the genius, who agree to help lance because of lotor’s ridiculous taxes + security. 

“But” says pidge “theres no way we’ll help you when he’s like this. You gotta wake him up first. He’s practically dead, we’re not going to smuggle a corpse, its useless. Coma patients cant lead kingdoms.” 

And lance is like “idk?? How??” 

And hunk is like “drop a rock on him” 

and lance is like “NO HES A PRINCE” 

and pidge is like “no curse is foolproof, theres got to be a way to break it” but doesn’t offer any helpful solutions so lance sighs and goes to hang out with sleeping Keith to see if he cant come up with something.

The smugglers helpfully offered a tent to keep the prince in so it doesn’t cause much of a ruckus among their crew. Lance enjoys the privacy because he’s starting to doubt that he can pull this off, and he apologizes to Keith for that even though he knows Keith cant hear him, and lance explains that he doesn’t know a lot about himself but he feels like he has a history of letting people down and he’s sorry, he’s sorry, but he’s going to try his best, and maybe providence will smile upon Keith and everything will work out anyway, and if lance fails he is at least a necessary stepping stone to restore Keith to the throne. 

He falls asleep there, and when he dreams, he’s inside a beautiful palace watching a man with a prosthetic arm write a letter at a desk. 

“That’s my brother,” says a voice behind lance, and thats... Keith walking up into the room, talking to him?? so casually?? And the man writing the letter cant seem to see or hear them at all? And Keith continues, “his name is shiro. He’s feeling particularly frustrated lately because theres nothing he can do to stop lotor from screwing over our people. He was supposed to inherit the throne. After one year as king, he sent supplies to the kingdom of a sworn enemy while their people suffered from starvation, and lotor got the council to label him a traitor and revoke his right to the throne. I was the only heir left. And, well, you know what happened to me.” He smiles and lance is still like WHAT THE HELL?? And Keith says “you’ll figure it out. I trust you” and lance can feel himself waking up so he misses the next part and only gets the word “witch” before he’s back in the tent and Keith is still passed tf out and he has NO IDEA how to break this curse, so he asks hunk if there are any witches nearby. 

And hunks like “shrug” 

and lance wants to bash his head against a wall. 

But allura overhears and is like “im a witch lol” and lance is like “YOU CAN DO IT THEN YOU GOTTA FIX HIM” and allura is like “?? i’ll try but I have no idea how I would even begin” and lance is like “ANYWAY I CAN HELP I WILL” 

so he hangs at allura’s elbow all day while she stirs potion after potion, consults books, consults Pidge, attempts to cast spells, and nothing’s working, so the day passes and she gives up for now and says she has to rest, and lance reluctantly sees her out of the tent and falls asleep himself. 

This time he dreams he’s in a witch’s tower, and he knows this must be the witch he needs to find, but it’s empty. He doesn’t know who lives here or where they are, and yet it feels familiar, and then Keith appears again, and lance wastes no time in asking where they are this time. Keith shrugs and says this must be one of lance’s memories, Keith has never been here before. 

And lance looks around in confusion like, “one of... my... memories??” before it clicks why he knows this is a witch’s tower without even looking around, and he remembers the tree outside the window and the apples that could be magicked inside from the branches without even leaving the comfort of the couch, and thats because its HIS witch’s tower. He’s in his home! 

And as if to prove it, he spins around and sees himself perusing his own library with an apple in hand, humming, and Keith smiles at him and says, “Witch,” before lance wakes up again and this time he understands, he remembers, that he is the only person who can save Keith, and that is why lotor cursed him with memory loss in the first place!! 

He also remembers... a lot of embarrassing thoughts he’d had pretty much his entire life... lance had followed the prince’s progress from afar, had attended his coronation and offered his services consulting as a court sorcerer (which the royal representative lotor had always overlooked with disdain because they HAD a court sorcerer, thank you very much, and honerva had more life experience in her little finger than a little spell-monkey like lance) and when the prince went missing, lance toiled over a solution, and he came to the new regent, lotor, and proved that he’d crafted a spell with the power to locate one’s truly heartfelt desire, and then he proved that his desire was keith’s safety, was keith, and then everything went dull and fuzzy, and then he’d woken up in the forest. 

And all of this is to say-- lance does not know how to break a sleeping curse. 

He only knew how to find Keith. Why did Keith have such faith in him? He would try anyway. He would brew a remedy so powerful it HAD to work. 

when pidge comes to check on him next morning, lance informs her that he has a lead on the prince and is not to be disturbed, and he spends all day sending hunk and allura out for ingredients, tugging out his own hair, briefly crying, then scraping himself up to keep working, and just as he thinks he might be on the right track, theres a scream outside, and then more, and lance doesn’t want to leave the cauldron but he has to make sure the camp is safe-- and it isn’t. 

Lotor’s armed guards have raided the smuggler’s camp and lotor himself is there too. Lance knows he has only one chance. 

He dashes back into his tent to finish, knowing full well that lotor saw him and theres no time at all, and then half the tent spontaneously begins to fold in on itself, and the cauldron is knocked from its briar and the potion! Most of it spills out, and lance, without thinking, takes the rest into his mouth because he doesn’t have a flask, and if he has to feed it to the sleeping prince like a baby bird then he WILL.

but lotor rips open the front of the tent before lance can make it to the bedroll and raises lance by the throat off of the ground. By force, he squeezes every golden drop out of lance’s puffed cheeks then casts him aside, preparing to finish Keith once and for all now that his secret is found out, (and in his mind he is thinking how nicely this will all blow over, to pin it on the smugglers and an unfortunate accident in the raid) but lance is swept up in a force of protective rage and creates a gust of wind powerful enough to uproot the tent, catch up lotor, and drag him away and pin him down. 

While lotor struggles against the fabric, lance scrambles to keith’s bedroll and prays that this will work, that theres enough remaining to have any effect at all-- and he presses his potion-coated lips to keith’s and wishes as hard as he can. 

and keith’s lips press back. 

And keith’s hand catches at lance’s collar. 

and lotor bellows in rage and lance sits up in wonder and the prince is awake and alive. 

He does not move like someone who has been lying still for over a year. He leaps to his feet, summons a dagger from seemingly nowhere, and meets the regent monarch head-on in a duel so fearsome that, when lotor is eventually defeated, his armored guard immediately drop their weapons and bow to keith.

Keith orders the guards release this camp (on the grounds that the laws they bent were unjust in the first place, and they’d harbored him safely in his hour of need), and then he finds himself and lance a horse and finally gets a moment to thank this witch who saved him-- and perhaps, if lance can forgive him for being somewhat useless throughout all this, he would like to accompany Keith to the castle as his court sorcerer? Of course, the mother to a traitor cannot serve the crown. 

And lance can hardly believe he’s being offered this new lot in life, because hes-- hes-- HIM. He never wins! But he has this time. He has.

He all but yells “YES” and almost makes an ass out of himself but reigns it in at the last second. They ride back to the castle together and are married later that year and live happily ever after.

[random-aya]

Detroit: Become Human | Chapter VI

Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV - Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII -  Chapter VIII - Chapter IX

Fandom: Detroit Become Human (of course)

Pairing: Connor x Reader

Word Count: 1,922

Author’s note: Thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on the previous chapters! As always, English is not my first language so excuse my grammar and my repetitions.

A group of Androids infiltered the Channel 16 building and broadcasted a message for humans and Androids. It seemed the operation didn't have any human casualty but anyway it was a mystery how they succeed without being spotted earlier. You were on your way with Connor to investigate the scene. In the taxi, the silence was present between the two of you. There was something that was bothering you for a while but you didn't manage to find the courage to ask him. You were somehow scared by the answer so you didn't dare to ask it. "How is your Hangover, Y/N?" Connor asked you when he felt your eyes on him. "There is a heavy metal festival in my head right now." You answered with a shy smile. Obviously, he didn't get the joke. Sometimes, you found it a pity he didn't have any sense of humor. At least, he didn't have Fitz's peculiar senses of humor. "Can I ask you something, Dr.?" You looked at him curious about what he wanted to know so you nodded. "Did you call him 'Fitzwilliam' for Fitzwilliam Darcy from Pride & Prejudice?" Your blush grew to your ears. How did he know that? Nobody nowadays read Jane Austen. Yes! You were a helpless romantic and you loved those books so much and they were your secret. You and your mother's secret. She gave them to you when you came to Detroit since it was her dear collection. "I saw the books in your room and read them." Explained Connor. You looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and confusion. "I'm sorry if that bothered you." He apologized, lowering his gaze. "I didn't mean to offend you." "It's okay." You calmed him. "Just, don't go telling around..." "I won't." He replied seriously as his life depended on it. Silence regained the vehicle once again. "Connor..." You started a few minutes later. "I- I wanted to...." "We have arrived." He announced interrupting you and getting out of the Taxi. You wanted to ask him why did he didn't let you erase his memory. Why he didn't want to forget the kiss. And why did he bother himself to protect that memory... The answers also scared you, depending on his answers he might start deviating, if it was so, you had to take some measures. Like reporting him to Cyberlife. You sighed with a sad smile and got out too. "Where have you been the two of you?" Asked Hank in front of the Channel 16 building with his arms crossed. It was like he was waiting for us for a while. "Connor's check." You answered trying to not give it any importance. "At this hour?" Hank asked surprised. "Don't they usually do it first thing in the morning?" He kept silent for a few seconds starting at you and Connor. "Wait! You two had spent the night together!" He realized triumphant. You felt the blush grew to your cheeks and didn't know what to say to get out of that situation. He wasn't wrong at all, actually. But you know what he really meant and you couldn't let him know that in fact, something happened. "Yes." Answered Connor. "Y/N wasn't feeling well last night and I kept her company." Hank looked at you suspiciously. "She passed out at her living room." Added Connor. "I couldn't let her there." Hank growled as he couldn't make a joke of that because he knew what it was, and went inside the building. Connor turned to me and winked, then he followed Hank. Every time he winked at you he took you off guard making your heart skip a beat. The broadcast room was on the top floor of the Stratford Tower. In the lift, the three of you remained in silence, the only noise you could hear was the coin Connor was flipping between his fingers. He did various trick that you always found impressive, but right now you were too deep on your thoughts to care about it. "You start to annoy me with the fucking coin!" protested Hank grabbing the coin. Connor with a concerned look observed how Hank put the coin in his pocket. "I'm sorry, Lt." he apologized. He looked like a kid who just been scolded. The lift finally reached the top floor and the doors opened. "Oh god! Was there a party and I wasn't invited?" Hank exclaimed when he saw the SWATs and FBI."The feds want their piece of the cake," said Ben Collins getting near the three of you. Connor and Hank listened carefully at the briefing while you just followed them. When you reached the broadcasting room a police officer came close. "Connor? Is that you?" He asked him.Connor eyed him analyzing him."Do you remember me?" He continued. "I was on the terrace... that android that took the little girl hostage? I was shot, you saved me." You observed the situation. You did remember. That was back on August when Connor was sent to his first mission. You watched him negotiate with the deviant Daniel from the living room. When Connor spotted the injured police officer he risked that Daniel might shoot him to apply a tourniquet to the agent saving his life. Connor seemed confused but he finally spoke. "I remember you." he said. The officer smiled. "I could have died on that terrace, but you saved my life." he paused. "I never thought I'd say this to an android, but thank you."A shy satisfied smile appeared on Connor's lips the same as your with his reaction. It was like he was proud of what he did and you were of him. You turned to Hank who was talking to a not very tall man wearing a trench coat. "What is this?" he asked looking at Connor with disapproval. "I'm Connor." He replied. "I'm the Android sent by Cyberlife." "Androids investigating Androids..." he said with sarcasm. "Do not mess my crime scene." "This is Especial Agent Perkins to you." informed you, Hank, when you went away from him. "What an asshole..." you said from the bottom of your heart. "I wouldn't say it better..." Hank smiled at you. Connor, ignoring us, proceeded to inspect the clues. The first thing he did was to replay the Deviant speech. The deviant had removed his skin to record the message. His eyes were of different color, one blue and the other green. His voice was calmed but determined. "We ask you to recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together we can live in peace and build a better future for humans and androids. This message is the hope of people. You gave us life. And now the time has come to you to give us freedom." The three of you were speechless in front of the message he sent. Actually, that message made you think about what you suspected of deviants. "Did you find anything?" Asked Hank to Connor. Connor took a few seconds to answer. It was like he was in shock. "Connor?" You called him. "No... Nothing... Just its model." He answered absentmindedly. Hank and you exchange a worried look. Connor was strange. Lately, you noticed he had been acting differently from his program. Maybe it was his adaptability with humans that change his behavior.

Hank proposed to check the rooftop since the deviants seemed to flee that way. The cold hit you strong, it was storming outside and being on the top of one of the tallest buildings in Detroit didn't help. "Shit! It's freezing cold!" You protested holding yourself trying to not lose the heat. Hank and Connor went near a big black bag that was in the middle of the rooftop. "There's one parachute left." Hank noticed. "Everything is too calculate to have made that kind of mistake." "They must have left someone behind." Connor realized. Connor scanned the area and noticed blue blood on a corner. He analyzed it and spotted more blue blood going to the other side of the roof. You followed him to operators houses. "Stay back." He ordered you before opening the door. You obeyed him and when he opened the door you heard a gunshot and Connor falling on the floor. "Connor!" You yelled reaching him. You saw an Android getting out of the operator house limping, he was injured. You tried to take Connor from there since the Deviant took cover and started shooting at everything it moved. Connor was too heavy for you and you both fell. He rapidly covered you with his body. "No, Connor!" You protested. "Go! And take cover!" Thankfully Hank reached the two of you and took you to cover.  "We have to stop them!" Connor cried talking about the agents who were shooting at the deviant. "I can't let them destroy him!" "You stay here!" Ordered Hank with severity. But Connor didn't obey and rush to the deviant. Hank tried to catch him but he was long gone before he could. "Connor!" You called him trying to go after him .Hank hold you strongly and didn't let you get up. "Are you crazy???" He demanded you furious. You saw Connor reaching the Deviant and when you heard the shot you froze. For a moment you thought... But it was the deviant that fell dead. You and Hank ran to Connor. Connor was strange, like shocked, he didn't even look at you. "Connor, are you all right?" Asked Hank concerned. "I'm okay..." He answered absentmindedly. "Are you hurt?" You asked. "I'm okay..." He repeated. "Jesus! You scared me to death!" Protested Hank. "Why can you never do what I told you?" Connor was in somehow state of a shock. He didn't react in any of our words. His LED was blinking completely red. "I wanted to connect to his memory... When it shoot... I- I felt it die..." He finally said panting. "It was... Like... I was dying..." He looked at you, with a lost and confused expression. "I was...scared..." You cupped his face and made you look at you. "It's okay, Connor." You tried to reassure him. "It's over." To your surprise, Connor held you tight like a child who just had a nightmare. You reciprocated the embrace since you felt for a moment you lost him forever. When you broke the embrace he looked at Hank who was confused and shocked. "I found something in his memory.", He announced. "There were some letters, on a Rusty metallic support... it said, Jericho."

Hank wanted to go to the police station to make a full report of the situation but you first wanted to fix Connor, he was strange, like he wasn't there. "Are you taking him to Cyberlife?" asked Hank. The idea seemed you terrible. If you took him now to Cyberlife, who knows what they will do to him. He still looked he was in shock. He wasn't supposed to feel scared, he wasn't supposed to feel at all. "No..." You answered absentmindedly. "I- I need to check him and fix that bullet hole..." You looked lost. "Hey, Y/N" Hank stopped you holding your shoulder. "Everything is all right?" You looked at him not knowing what to tell him. "I don't know..." You answered with a broken voice. "I don't know..." You gazed the floor for a few seconds and dismissing Hank's hand on your shoulder you added: "I call you later." Hank resigned, watched you and Connor leave with a taxi.

[astronomyparkers]

Skyline {V}

Warnings: none

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3k

A/N: So I originally intended for this to be the last part of Skyline, but because things needed to be explained so much, the story is getting a bit longer than I anticipated.  For that reason, there will be a Skyline pt. 6!!  I almost wish there wasn’t, because I love the evenness and finality of five parts, but what can you do.  Special thanks to Zoe and Jen for helping me brainstorm ideas, and for giving me feedback!!  Also, just a reminder, I do not have a tags list!!  I really hope you guys enjoy pt. 5!!!

{part I} {part II} {part III} {part IV}

You really had no idea how Spider-Man did it.  How could he walk around in his civilian life, bursting at the seams with the secret of his powers, and not tell anybody?  How could he stay up half the night roaming the streets of Queens and keeping them safe?  How did he balance his hero responsibilities with those of a typical teenager?  You were sure that, if the radioactive spider had bitten you, you would not have been able to handle it like Spider-Man did.

You felt the change immediately when you woke up the morning after your night with Spider-Man. After crossing all those lines that the two of you had so carefully left uncrossed for months, you had stayed up almost all night, just talking (and also kissing a little bit?  But really, could anyone blame you?  He was a super hero).  Once Spider-Man had left around four am, you had had less than two hours of sleep once your alarm rang at six.  And by the time you made it to school, you had felt like death warmed over. That day had been a groggy fog of trying to stay awake and coherent until school was over, and you were tucked away in your cozy bed.

And the thing was, the tiredness was the least of your worries.  You had kissed Spider-Man.  You had kissed Spider-Man.  Not only that, but Spider-Man had kissed you back.  And not only that, but Spider-Man was your boyfriend.  As in, someone that you could keep kissing, whenever you wanted to—as long as whenever was between the hours of midnight and three am.  All the secret meetings were exciting, sure, but bottling it up was starting to get to you.  Your friends had begun to notice that something was up with you, and they were beginning to ask questions.

“Seriously, Y/N, what is going on with you lately?” Alex had questioned in chemistry a few weeks into the affair. “Is something bothering you?”

“Hm?” You raised your head from your table, blinking groggily at your friend. “What was that?”

“Wake up!” Alex was twisted around uncomfortably in her chair, yet still managed to aim a kick at your leg under your table. “Are you sleeping okay?”

“I’m sleeping fine,” You yawned, stretching a hand into the air. “I’ve just been busy with school and stuff, and it’s tiring me out.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex rolled her eyes. “Are you really blaming this on academic decathlon? Peter’s in it too, and even with his Stark internship as well, he’s not as tired as you.” Alex glanced at the door. “Speak of the devil—”

Peter had walked over to your table, taking his seat down next to you. “Pardon?”

“Peter, you’re a busy guy, right?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“I, uh, I guess so, yeah,” Peter shrugged, laying al his books on the table and pulling out his chemistry notes.

“Yet even you’re more awake than Y/N,” Alex pointed to you. “Which leads me to believe that Y/N must have something else filling up her time, besides what she says.  What do you think, Peter?”

Peter glanced at you, blushed, and then moved his gaze back down to his notes. “I, um, I wouldn’t know, really.  Who—I mean what!  What Y/N does at night is—is completely her business.”

“Thank you, Peter,” You had nodded towards the boy then looked back at your friend. “Why can’t you be as nice as him?”

“Character flaw, I guess?” Alex had shrugged and turned back around to face the front as your teacher called the class to order.

You knew that there was no chance of being able to tell Alex the reason you were so tired. You knew that you couldn’t tell anyone. And you didn’t want to tell anyone. Or at least…you didn’t want to tell just anyone.

The longer your affair with Spider-Man went on, the more you longed to know who he was.  It wasn’t because the curiosity was too much to bear, and it wasn’t because you felt like it was some fun trivia fact that you took lightly.  You worried about him; there were nights where he showed up on your fire escape with a pained smile, injuries that you couldn’t treat with a basic first aid kit, and a refusal to let you do anything more than give him some ice and a painkiller. There were nights where he would begin to tell you a story, only to cut off half way through to avoid revealing too much information about his everyday life to you.  There were nights where you would fall asleep on the fire escape, head tucked into the costume clad chest of the boy you thought you might even be falling in love with, only to wake up in your bed, alone, with a note tucked next to your head saying the simple word of “goodbye”.

The fact of the matter was that you couldn’t go on forever like this.  As September passed to October, and the nights got colder, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to keep spending all night on the fire escape. What would happen then?  Would Spider-Man come inside for a cup of tea? The idea of the masked hero sitting on your bed as you read a book was hard to picture.  There was a distance between you to, a distance that kept you from feeling everything you wanted yourself to feel.  Partially, it was physical; you wanted to hold his hand, his actual hand, not just the glove, and feel the softness of his skin, the calloused fingertips (he mentioned he worked with robotics), and see the veins of his hands and arms where blood moved just below the surface of his skin, a reminder that he was real, that he was alive.  But what you wanted yourself to feel, more than anything, was love.

You knew that you cared deeply for Spider-Man.  You felt the sadness every night when he left, the coldness when you woke up alone, the wanting to know how his day went that made you ache in the middle of the night. You could tell that the boy underneath the suit was someone you could love, someone that could love you back in return, someone who could make you feel like falling into them wasn’t so terrifying.  But you couldn’t feel that way about Spider-Man himself.  The distance of not knowing who he was prevented everything you wanted.

Sometimes, when you were lying in bed after Spider-Man left, wrapping yourself up in blankets to make up for the chilled feeling that lingered long after he was gone, you wondered if this was healthy.  If losing sleep to see the hero was what was best for you.  You couldn’t deny that it made you happy, but was it the only thing that could make you happy?  Surely, there were other people in the world that could hold you in their arms like Spider-Man did, talk to you like he did, kiss you like he did, and not have to leave before the sun rose without knowing where he was going to?  Or, better yet, actually being able to do these things during the day, when being with each other wasn’t a danger to your safety, a secret to be known by you two and the moon.  And, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you knew that there was someone who could do that.

After the day when he gave you his hoodie, you and Peter had grown closer.  He still walked you home after academic decathlon and AP chemistry, but he also walked you home on days when you had neither.  You had study sessions together in the library, and before big tests you would have snack breaks in the quad while you held up flash cards for one another.  Peter never pressured you to talk about the bank heist with Spider-Man after the stormy day—in fact, he never brought up Spider-Man at all.  You appreciated this fact, as people were still harassing you for information on the masked hero months after you had last seen him (at least, months after they knew you had last seen him).  With Peter, you didn’t have to worry about him getting injured and not letting you help him.  You didn’t have to worry about not being able to be seen together for your safety.  You didn’t feel abandoned every night when he dropped you off at your apartment building.  Instead, you just felt normal.  And normal was something you hadn’t truly felt in a long time.

 It was the middle of October when the comforting feeling of friendship that Peter gave you began to change into something else.  Looking back, it had always been evolving, from the day he had given you his hoodie to keep you warm, but this was the day when you first noticed it. In almost every way, it was a normal day.  You walked into AP physics after lunch, with Peter by your side, laughing at some joke that he had made about the book you were reading in English class.  When you reached your joint table, he pulled your chair out for you before pulling out his own and taking a seat.  You noticed the action with curiosity, as did Alex, who had been watching you two walk in with something gleaming in her eyes. Knowing Alex, whatever it was couldn’t be good.

“Y/N, Peter, I didn’t see you two at lunch,” She began, glancing between the both of you.

“Oh, Peter was just showing me his latest creation with the robotics club,” You smiled at Peter, whose cheeks reddened slightly. “It’s really cool, Alex, you should come see it sometime!”

“I’m sure it is. Hey, Peter,” Alex directed her words at the boy next to you. “How’s the Stark internship?”

“It’s—it’s good, yeah, thanks for asking,” Peter stumbled out quickly.

“Oh, okay, I was just wondering because it keeps you so busy all the time,” Alex’s smile grew. “But, lately, you and Y/N have been hanging out more and more!”

“Alex—” You began, but Peter cut you off.

“Well, Mr. Stark said it was important that I don’t lose out on, um, on being a teenager,” Peter shrugged. “Like, having friends, joining clubs, all that kind of stuff. And Y/N, um, is—is a very good friend to—to have.”

You smiled at Peter as the teacher entered the classroom, sufficiently silencing all the chatter around you.

 After school, Peter met you at your locker, his hands on his backpack straps as he smiled at you.

“Ready to go?” He asked breathlessly, as if he’d been running recently.

“Yeah, are you okay?” You furrowed your brow as you shut your locker. “You seem a little out of breath.”

“Hm?” Peter’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, no, no, I’m—I’m fine!  I just had some, uh, something I had to do, for the Stark internship, that’s all!”

“Oh.” You and Peter began walking through the halls, exiting Midtown and making your way to the subway station.  You were halfway there before you spoke again.

“How come you never talk to me about the Stark internship?” You asked, your gaze pasted firmly on the ground.

You could practically hear Peter’s predictable shrug. “Um, I, uh, I don’t know.  It’s kind of…”

“Classified?” You gave a wry grin as you glanced back up at your friend.

Peter shook his head. “No, it’s not that.  Well, I guess it kind of is, but mostly, I don’t know…”

“What?” You asked as Peter trailed off.

“It’s just…” It was Peter’s turn to look at the ground. “I know everyone bugs you all the time about Spider-Man, and how much it annoys you—”

“I never said it annoyed me.”

“You didn’t have to, Y/N,” Peter glanced sideways at you. “And, I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to seem like—like I was bragging, or something.  Or, like, just trying to—to make up some random connection between us.  I’m not—I don’t want to trick or—or bribe you into being my friend.”

“Peter,” You reached down and grabbed his hand from where it swung between you, trying not to stare as a pretty blush spread over his face (you elected to ignore the sudden use of “pretty” to describe Peter Parker—no matter how well the adjective fit). “I like knowing what’s going on with you.  Telling me about your life isn’t tricking me into being your friend.”

“I—good to know,” Peter said weakly, his gaze flickering back and forth between the pavement and your entwined hands.

Your hands stayed together throughout the entire subway ride and the walk home.  When Peter dropped you off at your door (which he had been doing for the past few weeks, instead of parting ways at your individual streets), he was reluctant to let go of your hand.  You stood in front of your door, and, as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand, you realized that you didn’t want him to let go of it, either. Unsure of what to say, you just looked at Peter, who stared back at you with a kind of nervousness you had never seen in him before.  

“I should go,” You said after a moment, slowly retracting your hand from Peter’s.  He nodded, pursing his lips as you waved goodbye and stepped through your door, closing it behind you.

 That night, when Spider-Man showed up, you were prepared to ask him about his identity. You weren’t sure what had happened between you and Peter earlier in the day, but you felt like it had changed something.  Everything that bothered you about your relationship with Spider-Man was amazing in your friendship with Peter.  You were completely honest and open, and you didn’t have to feel like a secret with him; you wanted that same feeling with Spider-Man.

“Hi,” The masked hero said as he straightened up after swinging onto your fire escape.  He walked over to you and pulled his mask up slightly, kissing you quickly. “How was your day?”

“It was…” You sighed. “It was fine.”

Spider-Man frowned. “It doesn’t sound fine.  What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I…” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead of you. “I think I—Spidey, I need to know who you are.”

Spider-Man’s face went slack and he took a step back from you. “Why…why do you need that?”

“Because I don’t know—” You bit your lip. “I honestly have no idea how much longer we’re going to be able to keep this up.  This—whatever this is between us?  You and I both know that it won’t last forever.”

Spider-Man breathed out slowly, his breath visible in the air.  He turned around, walking away for a moment, then turned back to you. “You know why I can’t tell you, Y/N.  I can’t—remember the bank?  We both know that would have been worse if people knew that I—how I feel about you.”

“I do remember the bank, and I remember that people not knowing about us still didn’t keep me from almost watching my friend get executed, nor did it keep me from being next.” You crossed your arms. “And I’m not asking for people to know about us. The only reason there is an us, the only reason there’s an affair between me and Spider-Man, is because I don’t know the identity of the person underneath the mask.  If I knew him, then we wouldn’t have to keep having midnight rendezvous.  If I knew the person underneath the mask, we could be like a normal couple.”

“The person underneath the mask is a lot different than the person I am when I’m with you!” Spider-Man’s cheeks (or what you could see of them) were flushed.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” You laughed incredulously. “Are you saying that—that for the past six months, you’ve been pretending to be someone else?”

“No, Y/N, but—” Spider-Man placed his hands on the back of his neck and looked up at the stars. “Why are you saying this now?  Is this not enough for you?  Am I—am I not enough for you?”

You swallowed hard, tears beginning to come to your eyes as you realized you knew the answers to all his questions.

Spider-Man’s gaze levelled back with your face, and he stepped towards you, placing one hand on your waist as the other hand came to rest on your cheek

“Am I not enough for you?” He asked again, softer this time.  His voice was almost a whisper through the mask, and you could hear the shakiness of it as he spoke.

You pressed your cheek into his hand.  Part of you wished you could keep the feeling of his touch on your skin forever, but a bigger part of you wished that it was his bare skin, instead of a glove.

“No,” You swallowed the lump in your throat again as the tears began to fall over the brim of your eyes. “You’re not.”

Spider-Man pressed his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Why not, Y/N?  I…I love you.  I thought that…maybe you loved me too.  Do you…do you not love me?”

“I don’t,” You whispered back.  You felt Spider-Man’s grip on your waist tighten. “I can’t, Spidey, I—I want to love you so much.  I do. But I can’t, not when I don’t know all of you.”

You closed your eyes as Spider-Man’s grip on your waist loosened.  You felt his other hand come to your cheek.

“I—” His voice wavered and he swallowed hard. “Everything I did, I did to keep you safe.  I’m sorry that…that not letting you fall in love with me was one of those things.”

You felt his lips press to your forehead, and when you opened your eyes, Spider-Man was gone.

{part VI}

[sushigirlali]

Finding You - Part II (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Summary: Unseen forces move against Kylo Ren from within the First Order as he struggles to unravel Snoke’s deceptions / Rey must balance her relationship with Ben Solo and her dedication to the cause that opposes him / Leia Organa makes a desperate plea to an old friend in a last ditch effort to restore the Resistance. Pairing: Rey x Kylo Ren/Ben Solo [Reylo] [ReyBen] Continuity: Set directly after Star Wars: Episode VIII - The Last Jedi ends. Warnings: There will be a lemon in Part II. Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or anything that relates to Star Wars. 

A/N: One of my favorite things about The Last Jedi is that everyone has to deal with failure. I love character development more than anything else, so I’m glad that almost every character learned a lesson. Speaking of, I think Kylo Ren will figure out pretty quick in Episode IX that he fucked up with Rey, and will turn to the light side earlier than anticipated. Crossing my fingers! You can also find me on FanFiction.net as sushigirlali. Enjoy!

Finding You - Part II By: sushigirlali

I know forever don't exist But after this life, I'll find you in the next So when I say "forever," it's the goddamn truth I'll keep finding, finding you

Rey sighed happily, slipping deeper into the large metal tub of steaming water. It felt good to relax after being in a constant state of tension over the last few weeks. Her life had changed drastically since Jakku, but she didn’t regret leaving her home planet.

All her life, Rey had felt that she was meant to be more than just a starving scavenger, more than just a slave to Unkar Plutt. Now, here she was, the last Jedi in the universe. It was a lot of pressure, but Rey knew that Leia and Finn would support her. She just wished she’d been able to spend more time with Luke before he moved on.

His sudden absence was a blow to Rey, the Resistance, and, most of all, to Leia. After working so hard to discover his location, and then losing countless lives battling the First Order, it was hard not to dwell in darkness now that he was gone.

Still, Rey had the feeling that she hadn’t seen the last of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. He was a flawed man, but also powerful and good. Though she had only trained with him for a short time, Luke had taught her to commune with the Force, starting her on the path to becoming a true Jedi. In order to continue her training, Rey felt an inexorable need to return to the scared Jedi temple.

As a result, Rey had persuaded Leia, and therefore what remained of the Resistance, to seek out Ahch-To as their new base of operations while they figured out what to do next. Since the name and location of Ahch-To died with Snoke, Rey didn’t see any reason not to return to it.

Rey felt a spiritual connection with the Jedi island temple, which aided in connecting to the Force. Since landing that morning, Rey had spent most of the day meditating up on Luke’s perch. After meeting Snoke, she was searching for some understanding of why Force-users seemed to be so diametrically opposed. She believed that if she could find a way to bring balance to the Force, the tyranny of the Sith would finally end.

Translating the ancient Jedi texts was going to be time-consuming, so she hoped deep meditation would speed things up a bit. Her eyes moved to where the old tomes were hidden under her bed. After sensing Luke’s intentions, Rey had taken the books to the Millennium Falcon for safekeeping. While she felt guilty about stealing them, she needed to be prepared for what was to come.

Rey knew that more Force-sensitives existed in the galaxy; she could feel them when she concentrated hard enough. And when she found them, tomorrow or in twenty years, she wanted to be able to train them in the ways of the Jedi. Or, at the very least, be able to answer a few basic questions. The natural abilities of the Jedi could turn the tide of the war, for good this time. For the moment, however, she would have to put faith in her own burgeoning abilities, and those of Ben Solo.

Rey flushed as she thought of him, remembering their first kiss only days ago. Ben had been so gentle with her, but she could tell he was holding back. He was very emotional in general, and was given to bouts of extreme violence. His emotions were always close to the surface, especially when fighting, which she knew from personal experience.

But since their bond had initiated, he seemed different. He was careful with her, as if afraid to scare her away. Knowing what she did about his upbringing, and subsequent fall to the dark side, Rey was surprised that he could care about her at all.

They were so different on the surface, yet both had suffered the same loneliness and isolation. No matter the advantages he may have been born with, their life experiences made them equals in her eyes. They had the same weaknesses, the same fears. She hoped that, in time, they could share the same vision for the future as well.

The strength of her feelings for him should scare her, but they didn’t. After their first kiss, Rey knew for certain that Ben was feeling everything she was. She knew that she wasn’t alone. It had only been a day, but she wished she could see him again. They had so much to talk about, to discover about each other. Besides that, she wanted to be close to him again. Rey had never been physically attracted to anyone in her life, but Ben drew her like a moth to a flame.

She pictured his dark brown eyes as they had been during their kiss: intense, almost animalistic, but gentle too. His lips were wide and full, and so soft against her own. Rey bit her lip as she remembered how it felt to be in him arms, of the overwhelming size and strength of his body.

Only a short while ago, during the initial stages of their bond, seeing Ben without a shirt had been shocking. He was the first man she had ever seen in such a state, and her involuntary reaction had disturbed her. But now, all she wanted to do was get as close to him as possible. Did Ben want the same thing? She’d assumed he did, but he’d been wearing much less than usual the last time they were together, too, without doing anything about it.

Perhaps he was self-conscious? Or just trying to be respectful? She wasn’t sure, but she definitely wanted to find out. She was determined that communication was not going to be the downfall of their relationship.

As for her, she definitely wanted more than hand holing and chaste kisses. She imagined what his warm, calloused palms would feel like caressing her shoulders, her breasts, skimming over her taut stomach to touch her intimately for the first time…

Blushing brightly at the direction of her thoughts, Rey sat up in the tub. Glancing around ruefully, Rey reminded herself that she was perfectly alone in her private stone hut, and what she did in it was nobody’s business. Actually, now that she thought about it, it had been a long time since she’d sought to…relieve some stress.

Chewing her lip, Rey reclined again, pulling her knees back toward her chest. She trailed her fingers down her stomach, dipping under the water to the soft patch between her thighs. Ben had beautifully sculpted hands, large and callused from years of swinging a lightsaber. She imagined them on her body now, touching her, pleasuring her. She knew that the real thing would be indescribable, but for now, her fantasies would suffice. Rey gently massaged her slick folds, humming with the first stir of delight.

“Oh, Ben.” She sighed breathily, relaxing deeper into the warm water.

Rey felt like she was floating as pleasure spiked through her. Her fingers moved faster, concentrating on the bundle of nerves at her center. Then, as her body strained for fulfilment, Rey’s eyes snapped opened as Ben leaned over the basin, turning her mouth up to his, placing his strong fingers over hers.

Ben took over then, carefully sliding one, then two, digits into her core. He massaged her sensitive nub with his thumb, causing her body to lift clear out of the water in response. Rey whimpered as pleasure coursed through her; the unrestrained hunger in his kiss telling her without words that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Just as the pressure tautened her body, Ben’s tongue slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers erotically, mimicking the motion of his thick fingers. And then Rey was screaming her completion against his lips, shaking like a leaf in his arms.

Hanging onto him in the aftermath, Rey dimly realized that, somehow, in her passion, she had triggered the Force bond voluntarily this time. Did this mean that they could connect any time they wanted to now? Because based on Ben’s performance so far, she really hoped so!

I'm gonna search for your love, right through Hell and Heaven Millions of years yet to come and in all dimensions I know that you'll always be my happy ending My happy ending

Kylo looked up as he exited the refresher in his quarters, stunned to find himself in front of a very naked Rey. Water glistened like diamonds on her skin, on her pert breasts, down her long legs. At once, he felt himself respond. The effect she had on him was noticeable since, having just showered, the dark blue towel hanging low on his hips was the only stitch of clothing he had on.

But Kylo didn’t care; he was too busy burning every inch of Rey’s body into his brain. She was perfection, putting every fantasy he’d had about her to shame. She hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, in fact, she looked like she was…

“Oh, Ben.” Rey sighed breathily.

Kylo moved forward, as if in a trance, his eyes following the movement of her hand. She was…pleasuring herself? While thinking about him? After the kiss they had shared a couple days ago, Kylo knew that she was attracted to him, but he was not prepared for this lush display. With Snoke sulking around in his head, Kylo had found it distasteful to pleasure himself in the past. Now, however, he couldn’t think about anything else.

As he reached her side, Kylo kneeled next to basin, watching as Rey’s fingers disappeared into her slippery folds. She moaned again, and lust took over. Turning her cheek toward his, Kylo initiated a soul-stealing kiss. Rey gasped in surprise, but only pressed toward him as he replaced her fingers with his own.

Testing the tightness of her opening, Kylo slowly began moving in and out, brushing her cliterous with his thumb on every stroke. He had never touched another woman like this in his life, but everything seemed to come naturally with Rey. They were in complete sync, just like when they fought back-to-back against the Praetorian Guard, her body dancing to the rhythm he set forth.

Kylo massaged her tongue in time with the motion of his hand, pushing her over the edge and causing her to cry out in rapture. He held her afterward, supporting her as she came down. As Rey started pressing kisses to his neck and chest, Kylo lifted her from the tub and started toward his bed.

“Ben,” Rey murmured like a litany against his skin, “Ben, Ben, Ben!”

Kylo placed her body on his silk sheets carefully, caressing her limbs as she stretched like a cat under him. Through their bond, Kylo recognized that both his bed and hers existed in the same space, merged and yet separate in his mind. It was a surreal experience, but it didn’t scare him. Nothing could now.

“The sheets will get wet,” she protested shyly.

“I don’t care,” he replied huskily as stared down at her in awe.

Rey’s hand lifted toward his towel, tugging at it. It was unnerving to be the only one completely naked.

“Rey,” he gritted out, catching the towel, “I’m trying to hold back but—”

“Why?” she asked softly, her hand running daringly over his erection.

“I don’t want to force anything on you!” Kylo groaned.

“Like you’ve ever been able to do that.” Rey smirked at him mischievously.

Kylo smiled a little nervously, then moved her hand back up to the tie at his hip. “I’m not…I’ve never…but, I want what you want.”

At Kylo’s sudden shyness, Rey’s lips parted in surprise.

“Ben, I want you so much.” She admitted easily. “I should be embarrassed right now, this is my first time being with someone, but I can’t be. Because I’m with you.”

Kylo allowed her to remove the towel, his body clenching at the fascinated look on her face.

“Can I…?” her request trailed off as she blushed brightly.

Kylo nodded, then hissed in pleasure as she touched him.

“I’ve never seen a naked man before,” she confessed bashfully. “You’re beautiful. Like silk over steel.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” He responded, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Rey touched the healing bowcaster wound at his hip, the lightsaber scar across his chest and face. “I’m sorry.” She whispered forlornly.

Kylo kissed away her sudden tears, murmuring, “It’s not your fault, these wounds are due to my actions. I could never blame you.”

She nodded her head in understanding, reassured by his words, and kissed the scar across his cheek tenderly.

Moving to lie beside her on the bed, Kylo brought her close. The heat from her body seared him, and he basked in her glorious warmth. He stroked down her sides, touching her stomach, cupping her bottom. Rey quivered, smoothing her hands over his broad chest before pulling back slightly.

“Ben, there’s something I have to say before we continue. I want complete honesty between us.” Rey said seriously.

Kylo’s heart nearly stopped in anticipation. “What is it?”

“I think Snoke lied about forging the bond between us. I believe it’s always been there, since the very first time we met. Maybe since before either of us was born.” Rey asserted. “But, I don’t think that we’ve been manipulated in any way. My feelings for you are my own. I know that we were made for each other. That we balance each other. And I believe that, together, we can bring balance to the Force as well.”

“Rey, what are you—”

“I love you, Ben.” She said fiercely.

Ben stared at her in disbelief. She loved him? Ben Solo? She was the most incredible person he had even met, the strongest, the most determined, the most loving. Yes. Yes, of course. They were a matched pair. Soulmates. He had felt it back on Takodana, the first time he had held Rey in his arms. And he’d been fighting a losing battle ever since.

Ben drew her hand to his lips, closing his eyes as emotion welled up inside him. He felt free, restored to his former self. All because Rey loved him.

“Rey, I’ve never loved anything more than I love you. Not my parents, not tainting to become a Jedi, not being Supreme Leader, nothing. I would give up anything, my very life, for you.” Ben declared.

“Ben!” Rey cried, tears flowing free. “What are you saying?”

“I’ll leave the First Order. Tomorrow. I’ll come to you. I’ll be with you. I’ll help you achieve all of your dreams.” Ben promised. “I love you, Rey.”

Rey crushed her mouth against his, sharing her elation through their link. Ben smoothed her hair back from her face, wiping away tears, cupping her cheeks. He breathed only because she did, he lived only because she was alive. Moving over her, Ben slid between her open thighs. Rey gripped his back, pulling him down on top of her hungrily.

“Rey, Rey, help me,” he whispered against her lips, leading her hand between their bodies.

Rey carefully maneuvered him in place, finding the most pleasurable angle as he began to slowly push his hips down against hers.  

“Ben!” Rey gasped. “Ben, please!”

Ben surged forward at her insistence, breaking through the small barrier marking her innocence with ease; she was still aroused from their earlier foreplay. They both groaned at the impact of what they were feeling. As always, they were perfectly attuned to each other, connecting on a level so deep that it was impossible to tell where her she ended and he began.

“Rey, are you—” Ben started, even though he knew the answer.

“Don’t stop!” she panted, biting his shoulder.

Ben settled over her, steadily pumping in and out of her grasping sheath. Rey’s legs laced behind his back as she lifted up to him, urging him on.

“Rey! I—ah—I don’t want to hurt you!” Ben warned, scared of his own strength.

“You won’t! Ben! Ohh! I know you won’t! Please!” she nearly screamed, her hands tugging at his hips.

Ben rolled over onto his back as his resolve snapped, putting her in control of their pace. Straddling him, Rey bounced up and down quickly, making Ben groan in response to her enthusiastic motions. She was as wild for him as he was for her. Ben felt his eyes cross as she braced her hands on his thick chest and ground downward.

Pulling her forward slightly, Ben lips found a rosy nipple, sucking it into his mouth eagerly. Rey moaned loudly, pushing herself closer to his tempting mouth. Ben massaged her other breast in turn, playing with them until they were so sensitive that Rey whimpered with every lick or pass of his thumb.

As she began to tire from the frantic pace, Ben molded his hands around her waist as flipped them over again. Driving for completion this time, Ben thrust into her over and over, adjusting his hips as she tugged him to the spot that gave her the most pleasure. And then he knew nothing at all as stars exploded behind his eyes, as the world shattered and nothing but Rey and the pleasure they shared existed in all the universe.

I know forever don't exist But after this life, I’ll find you in the next So when I say "forever," it’s the goddamn truth I'll keep finding, finding you

Ben felt more relaxed than had in his entire life. Rey had given herself to him, without reservation. Her love for him spilled from every pore, and he felt protected by it; nothing could spoil the light growing inside him now. Snoke was no longer whispering in his mind, poisoning him from the inside out. Instead, a beautiful ray of starlight was seeping into his thoughts, into his very being. Into his heart. Every moment in her company was a miracle.

Rey, who was draped across his chest, sighed contentedly.

“What was that for?” Ben asked teasingly.

“I was just thinking,” she said with an impish smile, “about how fun it’s going to be to share this tiny hut with you.”

“Oh, yeah? Think your bed is big enough? I guess you could just sleep on the floor.” He poked her side, eliciting a playful shriek form her.

“Oh, I’m going to get you back for that!” she promised. “And if anything, you’re going to be the one on your knees, Ben Solo!”

“I don’t doubt it.” he smiled back. “I guess I’ll just have to hold you close every night so we can both sleep in comfort.”

Rey lifted up slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him.

A jolt of unease suddenly shot through him.

“What—Ben?” Rey asked as he sat up.

“Something’s wrong.” He told her in hushed tones. “There’s—I have to get dressed.”

Ben made a mad dash for his uniform, pulling it on in record time.

“Ben, what’s happening? Please, talk to me!” Rey said worriedly.

“It’s Hux—I have this feeling. I think—I think he’s going to try to kill me. I think he’s assumed control of the First Order. I have to get off this ship. Now.” Ben said, pulling up his boots.

“What?!” Rey scrambled into a sitting position on the bed. “Ben, what can I do?”

“Hux doesn’t know that I’m aware of his intentions, but I may have to blow a hole in this Star Destroyer to escape. If something happens—” Ben started.

“No!” Rey jumped off the bed, grasping Ben’s hands.

Ben gripped them tightly in return before going over to the console on his desk. “Listen to me. If something goes wrong, I need you to find me.”

“I initiated our bond tonight, I can find you again. I know it!” She said to his surprise.

“You did? How—”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll explain later. Please, what do you want me to do?”

“These are my current coordinates,” he said as he pulled them up on his screen. “If all goes well, I’ll randevu with you on—”

“Ahch-To.” She said firmly. “We’re on Ahch-To. It’s here, out past the Outer Rim.”

Ben looked surprised. “You’re telling me where the Resistance is located? But—”

She put a finger to his lips. “I trust you. Just come back to me in one piece. Please.”

Ben stood up, hugging her tightly. “I promise. I love you.”

Rey pulled his head down to hers, kissing him passionately. “I love you, too. Now stay alive!”

And then she was gone.

A/N: This cliffhanger is brought to you by man I’m tired and I’m going to bed now. Thanks for reading, friends! Part III will be up within the next few days. You can find me over on FanFiction.net as sushigirlali as well.

A little something extra!

Ali: So…does Rey ever ask you to put the mask on during sex? Kylo: Excuse me?!  Ali: Come on, you can tell me! I only gossip on Wednesdays. Kylo: Not that it’s any of your business, but I destroyed my mask. Ali: You really expect me to believe that you don’t have like eight duplicate masks in your Darth Vader shrine room? Kylo: … Ali: That’s what I thought. So! Does Rey ever ask you to put the mask on during sex? Kylo: …maybe.

[augcst]

unusual asks: do them all i believe in you

WHO DID THIS but lowkey thanks bc this is what i wanted read below if you wanna know things about me or *cough* datemeimeanwhta *cough*

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Spotify all the wayyy

Is your room messy or clean?Actually clean bc I just cleaned it out and everything is organized

What color are your eyes?Brown af

Do you like your name? why?I do and its bc its aestetically pleasing to look at for me? Like Autumn is just really nice to look at u kno

What is your relationship status?single and mentally unstable; thotumn

Describe your personality in 3 words or lesstired, sometimes creative

What color hair do you have?dark brown with lighter brown streaks

What kind of car do you drive? color?Nissan Versa Note, sky blue

Where do you shop?For clothes: H&M and target, my sister’s closet

How would you describe your style?attempted gay athletic

Favorite social media accountInstagram or this one

What size bed do you have?Double or queen... its bigger than a twin but not a king lol

Any siblings?Biological: 9, Step: 2, Adopted: 2 (all sisters)

If you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?New Zealand because it’s so gorgeous, or the gay island with my favorite people ive ever met @enbykaradanvers and @thegrimllama

Favorite snapchat filter?The one that makes your nose smaller and your face thinner

Favorite makeup brand(s)I use drug store mostly, Milani is INCREDIBLE, but expensive: highligher - nars, primer - too faced, stila, makeup forever

How many times a week do you shower?Usually every other day unless im going through a particularly bad depression spout. 

Favorite tv show?All-time: New Girl, The Office, Parks and Rec, Grey’sCurrent: Supergirl

Shoe size?.....size 11

How tall are you?5′4″ish

Sandals or sneakers?SNEAKERS ALWAYS

Do you go to the gym?not really

Describe your dream datestargazing in a remote, low-lit area so the stars are super bright with philosophical discussions

How much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?$178 not including like gift cards and stuff

What color socks are you wearing?none right now

How many pillows do you sleep with?I have to have one for my head, one to hug, and one on the other side so i feel secure lmao but I have 7 full pillows on my bed rn

Do you have a job? what do you do?Not currently as I’m about to go through a really tough semester, but I was a nanny

How many friends do you have?I have 3/4 best friends but a really good amount of friend friends 

Whats the worst thing you have ever done?watched the Bee movie

Whats your favorite candle scent?peach or evergreen

3 favorite boy namesI have 3 gender neutral names: Journey, River and Eowyn

3 favorite girl namessame as above plus annie

Favorite actor?um... *looks at smudged writing on hand* Benadryl *squints* Cucumber

Favorite actress?Melissa Benoist or Katie McGrath atm

Who is your celebrity crush?Same as above

Favorite movie?Hidden Figures is SO GOOD YALL YOU GOTTA SEE IT

Do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?I don’t because I have issues with concentrating unless i’m interested and it’s dead quiet. But my favorite book is Milk&Honey by Rupi Kaur CALL ME BASIC I KNOW I AM but i have a lot of poetry books i enjoy

Money or brains?Brains

Do you have a nickname? what is it?Yes, Audi or Thotumn or Small Chip as coined by @thegrimllama and Lil Sis/sib as coined by @enbykaradanvers

How many times have you been to the hospital?For myself, 4 times for serious things. 1) Kidney infection as an infant, 2) Two nose bleeds that wouldn’t stop 3) Severe stomach pain 4) Broken ankle

Top 10 favorite songsin no particular order:-This Girl (Kungs Vs. Cookin’ On 3 Burners)-Wow by Beck-Guillotine by Jon Bellion-False Alarm by Matoma-Death of a Bachelor by Panic! at the Disco-Starving by Hailee Steinfeld-Take On Me by Aha-Send My Love (To Your New Lover) by Adele-That’s My Girl by 5H-6 Inch by Beyonce

Do you take any medications daily?Too many

What is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)Definitely combination

What is your biggest fear?Shallow: Heights; Deep: Being Gaslighted

How many kids do you want?I want a few although im not sure how many, but never an only child. 

Whats your go to hair style?Messy pony or bun

What type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)Average for a family, like 4 bedroom, 3 stories, 3 baths.

who is your role model?@enbykaradanvers and @thegrimllama and my mom

What was the last compliment you received?(regarding a nude I thought was awful) @thegrimllama : “HOLY SHIT IT WORKS THOUGH, IM FOR REAL THOUGH SEND IT TO EVERYONE”

What was the last text you sent?“IM ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH”

Wow old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?I still believe in santa dont ARGUE WITH ME

What is your dream car?One with bluetooth music, leather seats, seatwarmers and a sun roof and adequate room in the baCK AKA MY CAR I DESTROYED LAST YEAR I CRY

Opinion on smoking?not for me, please dont smoke cigs around me either

Do you go to college?Yep, getting my associates this semester then transferring

What is your dream job?a job that works with psychology and children. maybe autistic children

Would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?Suburbs. I like the idea of a city, but I hate the crowdedness, but i like living close enough to like a target and H&M and stuff

Do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?nah, if anything I use them while im there

Do you have freckles?not really, just like random spots all over my body but not like the cute freckles lmao

Do you smile for pictures?now I do, i went through a period where I didnt though

How many pictures do you have on your phone?17k

Have you ever peed in the woods?yes, when I was little and my family was actually active and hiked lmao

Do you still watch cartoons?sometimes, my little sister watches them and sometimes they’re on. But I do watch Steven Universe and Spongebob when they’re on lmao

Do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?HOW ABOUT CHICK FIL A

Favorite dipping sauce?Ranch probably

What do you wear to bed?usually a tee and underwear

Have you ever won a spelling bee?I think I vaguely remember winning when I was in elementary but I honestly cant say for sure

What are your hobbies?Art and music and studyblring and im trying to get into like editing digital stuff and i also like writing when I have the spoons

Can you draw?yeah, I have an art tag somewhere. You can find it on my page in my about me i think

Do you play an instrument?the guitar, I used to play viola and piano though

What was the last concert you saw?Twenty One Pilots at Red Rocks i think?

Tea or coffee?hot chocolate

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?starbucks

Do you want to get married?yes

What is your crush’s first and last initial?JH, but it’s like an inactive crush? But like other than that I dont have any

Are you going to change your last name when you get married?Probably

What color looks best on you?Orange or navy blue probably

Do you miss anyone right now?@enbykaradanvers bc they WENT TO SLEEP EARLY LIKE A HEALTHY PERSON although im really proud of them bc i care and love them and i want them to be well rested for work so they have a highkey good day

Do you sleep with your door open or closed?CLOSED AF

Do you believe in ghosts?Umm yes but not in the conventional way. lmk if anyone wants to know more lmao

What is your biggest pet peeve?I have so many but top ones are chewing with your mouth open and velvety textures

Last person you called?@enbykaradanvers and @thegrimllama

Favorite ice cream flavor?Mint choclate chip

Regular oreos or golden oreos?I like the cookie part of regular ones but the whole of golden ones so u choose

Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?i dont like sprikles but make it gay so rainbow

What shirt are you wearing?my fave long sleeve tee, it was my dad’s at one point

What is your phone background?kara danvers with a pink background and a pixelly thought bubble that says “why are you on my phone”

Are you outgoing or shy?a mix. depends on my spoons tbh

Do you like it when people play with your hair?if they do it gently bc i highkey have a really sensitive scalp

Do you like your neighbors?yeah, one of my best friends lives on the left and a nice family lives on the right

Do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?morning and night... but like lazily. Literally water in the morning and a makeup wipe or water at night

Have you ever been high?from prescription drugs but like that were meant for me lol

Have you ever been drunk?never

Last thing you ate?sauteed mushrooms

Favorite lyrics right now"theres not enough wind in oklahoma to blow this old house to the ground” or something like that

Summer or winter?summer, but i dont hate winter

Day or night?night

Dark, milk, or white chocolate?milk

Favorite month?May

What is your zodiac signLeo

Who was the last person you cried in front of?@thegrimllama bc i was having a bad night and she skyped me until I fell asleep 

[womenofcolor15]

PAYING TRIBUTE: The Obamas, Oprah, Kamala Harris, Mariah Carey, John Legend, Ava DuVernay & More Continue To Salute Civil Rights Icon John Lewis

Celebs flocked to social media after hearing about the passing of civil rights icon John Lewis, who passed away after a battle with cancer. Peep reactions from Barack and Michelle Obama, Oprah, Kamala Harris, Mariah Carey and more…

2020 took another icon from us.

On July 17th, civil rights legend and United States Representative John Lewis died at the age of 80 after a battle with cancer. He was diagnosed with https://www.theybf.com/2019/12/30/barack-obama-sends-out-prayers-for-rep... ">Stage IV pancreatic cancer in December 2019.

“I have been in some kind of fight – for freedom, equality, basic human rights – for nearly my entire life. I have never faced a fight quite like the one I have now. This month in a routine medical visit, and subsequent tests, doctors discovered Stage IV pancreatic cancer. This diagnosis has been reconfirmed,” Rep. Lewis wrote announcing his diagnosis.

The nation suffered a huge lost when Congressman Lewis passed away over the weekend. Like he said, he has been fighting for freedom, equality, and basic human rights for the black community his entire life. Congressman Lewis – who represented Georgia’s 5th Congressional District for over 30 years - marched with Martin Luther King Jr. in 1965 in Selma, Alabama and became one of the most famed civil rights leaders. Rep. Lewis was never scared and never backed down. From being beat down in Selma to going head-to-head against Donald Trump in recent years, Rep. Lewis was a fighter for equal change and he did so until his last breath. And for that, we are grateful!

After learning about his death, celebs flocked to social media to pay tribute and express their condolences to the Lewis Family.

Forever President Barack Obama and forever First Lady Michelle Obama paid tribute to the civil rights icon:

          View this post on Instagram

                  Not many of us get to live to see our own legacy play out in such a meaningful, remarkable way. John Lewis did. And thanks to him, we now all have our marching orders—to keep believing in the possibility of remaking this country we love until it lives up to its full promise.

A post shared by Barack Obama (@barackobama) on Jul 17, 2020 at 11:48pm PDT

            View this post on Instagram

                  I’ve spent the morning reading tributes to the extraordinary life and legacy of John Lewis. And I’m awed by the way that, in eight decades filled with such weight and consequence, he also managed to keep things simple and light. For him, the pursuit of lofty goals like justice and righteousness was about just doing what’s right. His epic life story rightly fills the pages of biographies and college textbooks, yet he also chose to publish it as a comic book. And even as he spent a lifetime marching, and sitting in, and getting arrested, his feet kept on dancing. Congressman Lewis shows us that while the struggle and pain is all too real, fighting for each other—and paving the way toward something better for our kids and grandkids—can and should be a source of real and lasting joy. May God bless his memory. And as we keep marching, may his defiant, delighted smile urge us onward.

A post shared by Michelle Obama (@michelleobama) on Jul 18, 2020 at 9:38am PDT

  Media mogul Oprah, Sen. Kamala Harris, Mariah Carey, directress Ava DuVernay, John Legend, and tons more paid tribute to Rep. Lewis:

          View this post on Instagram

                  Last week when there were false rumors of Congressman John Lewis’ passing, Gayle and I called and were able to speak with him. He sounded weak but was surprisingly more alert than we expected. I had a final chance to tell him what I’ve said every time I’ve been in his presence: “Thank you for your courage leading the fight for Freedom. My life as it is would not have been possible without you.” I know for sure he heard me. I felt good about that. He understood and was so gracious. This is one of his last interviews we recently did during the Covid quarantine about his new @johnlewisdoc #GoodTrouble. Thank you for showing us and teaching us what getting into “good trouble” looks like.

A post shared by Oprah (@oprah) on Jul 18, 2020 at 8:48am PDT

    John Lewis was an icon who fought with every ounce of his being to advance the cause of civil rights for all Americans. I'm devastated for his family, friends, staff—and all those whose lives he touched.

My friend, thank you for showing the world what #GoodTrouble looks like. pic.twitter.com/cvG8nSJCW5

— Kamala Harris (@KamalaHarris) July 18, 2020

    Today we have lost a heroes' Hero.. Thank you God for John Lewis’s life of service. Let us continue to try to walk his walk of truth. Rest in Power. pic.twitter.com/9YZVC7e95Y

— Mariah Carey (@MariahCarey) July 18, 2020

    From the private video stash. A glimpse of Congressman Lewis in the Oval. During our SELMA visit. Back when the White House was occupied by sane people who believed in justice and dignity. Grateful that the Congressman saw the dream of a Black President realized in his lifetime. pic.twitter.com/NvFaLTMvNJ

— Ava DuVernay (@ava) July 18, 2020

    As utterly heartbreaking as today is, I’m granting myself a bit of solace by imagining the combined welcome party for both Reverend C.T. Vivian and Representative John Lewis on the other side.

And my friends, that is a party.

— Franklin Leonard (@franklinleonard) July 18, 2020

    Thank you John Lewis for being a warrior for justice. Thank you for loving us so much that you devoted and risked your life to bring us closer to freedom. As we mourn and remember his incredible life, let's rededicate ourselves to carrying on his legacy.

— John Legend (@johnlegend) July 18, 2020

    So much love, honor and respect for John Lewis. Although we never met, I’ve always admired your courage. Rest In Peace Mr. Lewis. We got it from here... pic.twitter.com/jVrjHLKH1p

— Ice Cube (@icecube) July 18, 2020

    God has welcomed @repjohnlewis home. Defender of justice. Champion of right. Our conscience, he was a griot of this modern age, one who saw its hatred but fought ever towards the light. And never once did he begrudge sharing its beauty. I loved him & will miss him. #JohnLewis pic.twitter.com/XNbiEsClQl

— Stacey Abrams (@staceyabrams) July 18, 2020

    Heartbroken by the loss of two incredible leaders Reverend C.T. Vivian and Congressman John Lewis both dedicated their lives to the fight for racial equity and for that we are forever, gratefully, indebted #RIP pic.twitter.com/cC9K1n8Guv

— Yara shahidi (@YaraShahidi) July 18, 2020

    John Lewis gave all he had to redeem America’s unmet promise of equality and justice for all, and to create a place for us to build a more perfect union together. In so doing he became the conscience of the nation.

— Bill Clinton (@BillClinton) July 18, 2020

    We have more work to do but we would not be where are without John Lewis. May he rest in power, and may we humbly and boldly walk in his footsteps. pic.twitter.com/GNCj6ARh17

— Muriel Bowser (@MurielBowser) July 18, 2020

  May our fearless civil rights leader rest in peace!

Photo: Featureflash Photo Agency/Shutterstock.com

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/07/21/paying-tribute-the-obamas-oprah-kamala-harris-mariah-carey-john-legend-ava-duvernay-more-

[theliterateape]

Hope Idiotic | Part 22

By David Himmel

 Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

MICHELLE OFTEN SANG IN THE SHOWER and loved bouncing along to the radio while getting ready for a weekend night out. This night, she was singing even louder and bouncing even higher because she was excited about eating at Ginger & Homestead.

“I’m so impressed that you booked this reservation all on your own,” she told Lou who was having trouble getting his tie just right.

“Well, I know how to use a phone.”

“I know. It’s just nice to have you do this. I like being taken care of.” She bounced over to him and kissed him on the cheek, then helped straighten his tie while singing along to Kelly Clarkson’s “My Life Would Suck Without You.”

Lou matched her excitement with nervousness. This dinner was the dinner Michelle had been waiting more than two years to have. This was the dinner that they fought about. This was the dinner that I warned Lou not to plan. This was the dinner that already cost him more than eight grand before they had even checked in with the hostess. This was the dinner that had to be the most perfect dinner anywhere… ever. And it would be. Everything was in order.

Lou had the ring Michelle wanted. He was taking her to the restaurant she’d been salivating over for months. He stopped by the place a few weeks before to let the manager know that he would be proposing to his girlfriend. He orchestrated a bottle of Michelle’s favorite champagne, Veuve Clicquot, to be delivered when she said “yes.” He even worked it out that the restaurant’s owner—now considered a celebrity chef—would personally deliver the bottle to their table and be the first to congratulate Michelle, as well as be the first to coo over her ring. Was it possible to dim the lights throughout the restaurant except over their table when he got on one knee? The manager said that it was, so Lou arranged it that they would be seated in exactly the right spot. He would give her the spotlight she so craved. Yes, it would be perfect.

“Are you okay?  You’re fidgety,” Michelle observed.

“I am? Sorry, I’m fine. Just taking it all in. Some restaurant, huh?”

The last dish of their main course had just been cleared. The time was nigh. But before he could start his proposal, he had to give the signal to their waitress, and she hadn’t been to the table since checking on them earlier in the meal.

“Something on your mind?” Michelle said.

To avoid any more obvious awkwardness, Lou lied. “Just thinking about writing a scene for the show with Mark. You know, this place is packed and it’s not cheap, but we’re in a recession, so who are all of these people and why are they hoarding all the jobs and money? I don’t know. Something like that.”

“Ugh. Your play. It’s not even a real play yet.”

“Huh?”

“All you do is talk about your play. It’s just kind of annoying, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry? It’s just a big part of what I’m doing right now.”

“I wish you’d talk more about finding work.”

“Me, too. Unfortunately, there’s not as much daily news on that front.”

“Are you sure you’re not wasting your time with this comedy stuff? Maybe you could be spending that time meeting clients.”

“I think I’ve got a good balance. I can’t network and email and job hunt and market myself 24 hours a day.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s impossible. One, I’d get burned out. Two, I only write with Mark after hours when potential clients aren’t working anyhow, and three, if I did that, I’d have no time to spend with you.” He was trying to bring the conversation back to romance.

“You don’t spend time with me anyway. You’re always out doing stand-up until like one in the morning.”

“A couple nights a week... so what?”

“So what? So what I think it’s doing is distracting you from what’s important.”

“The writing and stand-up are important.”

“They’re important as hobbies, Lou. As hobbies. A hobby isn’t a job. These hobbies aren’t what’s going to get you to a place where we can start a life together.”

The perfect night was slipping away. Panic was sliding in.

The waitress approached with a big grin. She looked directly at Lou. “Are the two of you ready to take a look at our dessert menu?”

The perfect night was slipping away. Panic was sliding in.

This was Lou’s cue. All he had to say was, ‘We’d love to’ and the waitress would say she’d be right back. She’d tell the owner/celebrity chef to get ready with the champagne. The manager would put his finger on the appropriate light switches. Lou would tell Michelle how much he loved her and how he wanted to start their life together right away. He’d get on his knee. The lights would change. All of the other patrons would become silent the moment they realized what was happening. He’d reach into the side pocket of his blazer and pull out the ring box. Michelle would start crying. He’d open the box and reveal the ring of her dreams to her. She’d gasp and cover her mouth with her hands. He’d say, ‘Michelle Kaminski, love of my life, will you marry me?’ She’d say ‘yes.’ He’d place the ring on her finger and kiss her. The restaurant would erupt in celebration. Michelle would hold out her hand and admire her new jewelry. Then she’d raise the back of her hand up and display it for the whole restaurant to see. The owner/celebrity chef would come out with the Vueve, congratulate them, open the bottle, fill their glasses and ask to see Michelle’s ring. The lights would go back to normal. Lou would go back to his seat. Some patrons would insist on buying the star couple drinks. Strangers would take photos of them with camera phones. Michelle, through tears of excitement and joy, would say that her makeup was probably a mess. She’d be right. But Lou would tell her she looked perfect. Because to him, at that moment, seeing Michelle that happy and knowing that he was the one who made her that happy, she would look perfect.

But Lou didn’t say, ‘We’d love to.’ Instead he smiled and said, “Give us a couple minutes.”

The waitress’ face fell. He watched her walk back to the bar like she’d been defeated, where her manager was waiting. Lou gave a small, awkward smile to them both. Then he turned back to Michelle.

“Don’t call them hobbies,” he told her. “These are things that will help my career. They are my career. This is what I want to do. The copywriting thing is a career, too, of course, and it’s just as important as the script writing and stand-up. Do not reduce my passions and my efforts to actually create a life I can be happy with to something as trivial as stamp collecting. Do not belittle me.”

“I’m not belittling you, Lou. I’m bringing you down to Earth. I’m keeping you realistic. You can’t afford the life we want by telling jokes in the middle of the night at dive bars in Chicago. It’s impossible. Why don’t you understand that?”

“Why don’t you understand that I won’t be in those dive bars in the middle of the night forever? This is how it starts. Bit by bit. Patience and persistence.”

“Persistence? What persistence? You’ve gone from wanting to be a writer to working in sales to wanting to be a teacher to wanting to start your own company back to wanting to be a writer and a stand-up comedian. The only thing that persists is the inconsistency.”

He was speechless, which was a good thing because if he found the words to say, he would have certainly made things far worse than they were. He didn’t know how else to explain the way of things to her. Some days she’d understand it all, and other days it was an alien language. She was right about one thing: inconsistency did persist. But that wasn’t on his hands.

“I’ll get our check,” he said standing.

“What about dessert?”

He started walking to the bar. “You don’t need it,” he said to himself.

“Is everything alright?” the manager asked.

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Here’s the thing—she’d kill me if I told you this but I don’t know how else to explain. My girlfriend has irritable bowel syndrome. It can strike at any moment and, well, it has struck.” The manager looked repulsed and terrified. “Don’t worry,” Lou said reassuringly. “Nothing has happened. But she’s afraid something might if she doesn’t leave right now. So yeah, I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to propose and go through the whole thing when she’s on the brink of shitting herself. Not the most romantic memory, you know?”

“Was it something she ate?”

“No. It’s just a condition. One of the many things I love about her. I’ll just pay the check here and we’ll get going. Thank you for everything you did for us tonight.”

“I’ll let the owner know. I’m terribly sorry about this. Let us know when you’d like to try again.”

“Great. Will do.”

✶

LOU WAS BALANCING HIS FEELINGS OF ANGER AND ANNOYANCE SILENTLY. Michelle took a cue from him and also kept quiet on the cab ride home. In the apartment, she put on her pajamas, popped a bowl of popcorn and parked herself in front of the TV. Lou fixed himself a drink and sucked it back, looking at the lake from the windows.

“Do you want to watch some TV with me?” Michelle ventured.

Lou kept his gaze on the harbor below. “No thanks. I think I’ll go for a walk.”

“What’s with you tonight?”

“Just a little grumpy is all. No big deal. I’ll be back.”

He felt guilty for being so short with her because she couldn’t possibly have had any idea what should have happened at dinner. It was also clear that she had no idea of the impact the things she said at dinner had on him. She was business as usual when they got home. And that was a big problem for him, too.

Lou walked up the block to Caroline’s, his favorite neighborhood bar. He drank Dewar’s White Label neat until he was drunk enough to forget that he was carrying around an engagement ring valued at his entire life’s savings intended for a person he currently couldn’t stand the sight of.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

[thesignsofjohnlock]

Balletlock & Rugby!John

Forces of Nature by Ewebie, 18 k words, explicit, unilock. Sherlock decides to take some time off during summer break to relax in a cabin by a lake and catch up on his journal reading. Too bad his neighbor across the water is a hot rugby captain out swimming and doing pornographic yoga at dawn. Thumbs up for a really fab fic complete with sloooow hammock sex. YES!

on the field (i remember, you were incredible) by trustingno1, 1.4 k, teen. cute little one shot – teenlock, rugby John. – THUMBS UP

Studio 4 by JohnlockTheDoctor, 3.2k, explicit. Teenlock. John’s the rugby captain and Sherlock likes ballet. An unusual friendship that gets them sprawled out on a studio floor. Sexytimes soon follow.  CUTE, short

The Dancer and The Captain by Mssmithlove, 17 k, explicit.  Teenlock Balletlock is smitten and so is Rugbyjohn. John frightens off the bullies.

Wishing You Were Somehow Here by Mssmithlove, 10 k, explicit.  Unilock. While John chases his dream of becoming a professional rugby player, Sherlock is stuck at University, wishing he’d come back and prove that he is, in fact, Sherlock’s boyfriend since no one on campus seems to believe him.

Pas de Deux by prettysailorsoldier, 12k, mature. When Sherlock gets banished to the Year 13 corridor, he finds himself with a new locker neighbor: John Watson, the enigmatic captain of the rugby team whom the teachers love and girls swoon at the sight of, but Sherlock isn’t charmed. Not in the slightest. They start hanging out. Sherlock doesn’t know if John likes him like THAT but at least John chases away the bullies as they become friends.

Many Things by iamaqualady, 499, general.  Watson’s bringing his girl to practice, or, at least, that’s what the boys think.

Tombé by cryme_anocean , 10 k teen, Sherlock Holmes hates his coworkers. Well, he does until they introduce him to the cute jogger boy who runs past their bakery every Saturday morning. Later, John loves that Sherlock dances, and hates that he has bullies after him – something he aims to change.

Five times Sherlock and John pretended to be a couple (and one time they didn’t) by ColdeLinke, 3k mature. Teenlock. Really cute – a series of scenarios where John and Sherlock pretend to be a couple for various reasons for other people, until they don’t need to pretend anymore.

Pas de Deux by shevrlock, 22 k, explicit. (Inspired by Billy Elliot.) Sherlock Holmes is a gifted ballet dancer dealing with bullies in industrial, unforgiving 1980s Newcastle. Meeting John Watson is the best thing that could have happened, despite the hate and homophobia they must deal with to be together.

The Doubtful Comforts of Human Love by PoppyAlexander, 61 k words, mature. Subtitled “Or the Adventure of the Red Shoes.” This is Balletlock and Rugby!John at middle age. The two have been together simply forever, and have drifted farther and farther apart over the years. A string of murders around Sherlock’s ballet company has them jolting out of their complacency.  

Soutenu series,  by FivePips, four works. John Watson is a new physiotherapist for the Royal Ballet and Sherlock Holmes is a Principal Dancer. Sherlock has an eating disorder, and really doesn’t want John to know.

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin, 15 k, explicit. In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

Props by LadyKailitha, 16 k, mature. When ballet virtuoso, Sherlock Holmes gets a table at the fanciest restaurant in town for his mother’s birthday, he didn’t expect the maitre d’ to give his table away to rugby champion, John Watson. John, gracious as he is good-looking, offers to share the table. Sparks fly.

Blond Barista Seeks Dashing Ballet Dancer: Inquire Within by prettysailorsoldier, 43 k, explicit. Unilock. Between classes, his job at a local cafe, and being captain of the rugby team, John Watson’s life is plenty stressful enough without the addition of a mysterious ballet dancer he can see through the windows of the dance studio across the street, but, somehow, he can’t bring himself to mind.

Overture by dreadpiratewatson, 28 k, mature. Sherlock Holmes, a shy, aloof ballet dancer, loves ballet, and ballet only. He tried it once, being in love, but after humiliation and heartbreak, he swore it off forever. Then, John Watson comes along, and turns his world upside down.

A Study in Movement by Supernova12, 69 k, explicit. Teenlock. John drops in on the ballet class to sketch dancers as movement reference for his comic book. One of the dancers, Sherlock Holmes, is amazing.

Out of Step by prettysailorsoldier, 13 k, explicit. John is surprisingly at peace with the recent changes in his life, taking a job as the rugby coach at a secondary school after being discharged from the army, but, when he finds out being part of the school community also means helping out with the annual Christmas production, he’s slightly less keen on the whole affair.

Entre Nous (Between Us) by hogwartswitch, 38 k, explicit. A chance encounter with a blonde stranger on New Year’s Eve in London leaves ballet dancer, Sherlock Holmes, breathless. Five years later, he meets a rugby-playing doctor who turns his world upside down.

Two Peas in a Pod by taylorann14, 6 k, teen. John Watson is a new student, he’s a rugby player. He’s a closeted bisexual. Sherlock Holmes is seen as a freak, but John doesn’t understand why. The two form an unlikely friendship that blossoms into something beautiful.

Un Malentendu by crookedbow, 1.6 k, teen. Sherlock hears John telling his rugby mates that they’re “just mates,” it’s not like that, and can’t help being angry.

Winter Break by NerdyMind, 19 k, mature. Unilock. “It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.” Miscommunication, misunderstandings and near-misses oh my!

He’s All That by fiveainley_ohmy, 14 k, teen. When the school it-boy, John Watson, gets dumped by his girlfriend, he’s issued a challenge. The stakes? The title of Prom King. The objective? Make Sherlock Holmes popular. It was a bet John couldn’t lose. There’s just one complication: John didn’t expect to fall in love. (An adaptation of 1999’s She’s All That.)

The Dancer by paleolithic_demitasse, 8 k, teen. John and Sherlock admire each other from afar before they’re brought together in unlikely ways. Whether those be a forgotten phone, a chance encounter or a party on New Year’s Eve, there’s something there that neither of them want to admit (or deny).…

Johnloctober by prettysailorsoldier, 169 k, explicit. 31 days of autumnal Johnlock with prompts from all of you! There will be a bit of everything, but you can check the tags for more specifics.

The Lone Dancer by merelysherlocked, 56 k, teen. Sherlock Holmes tries to keep the fact that he dances ballet to himself, but that only makes other people think that he’s a freak at school. John Watson is a popular kid who plays rugby. He is nice to everyone, even Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock doesn’t think John will stay after he stands up for him one day, but John does.

Act IV: Andante Grazioso by lemmonysnippets (hum_hum_humbug), 3 k, teen.  Teenlock. John catches Sherlock dancing Swan Lake in the studio, hoping to talk about something that’s been bothering him for weeks.

Open or Closed? by dragonQuill907, 8 k, teen. Unilock. In which they’re all in uni, Irene’s having a party, and they decide to play truth or dare  

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42, 69 k, explicit. John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn’t need the headache.

Not As It Seems by Irrevocably_Sherlocked, 4 k, teen. It wouldn’t do to have his secret exposed. Not now, not when he and the boy he shared the small flat with were beginning to become something like friends. Sherlock couldn’t let John know he was a ballet dancer.

7 minutes by Salambo06, 9 k, explicit. Teenlock. Rugby!John & Balletlock. For some reason John and Sherlock end up in a closet together for a stupid party game.

a matter of missed connections by beeeskneees, 16 k, explicit. Unilock. When trying to text a girl he met in a pub, the wrong number John’s been given ends up putting him in contact with a mysterious and interesting man who goes by ‘SH.’ Bored and young and reckless, John keeps texting, and keeps texting, and keeps texting.

Atelophobia and Arabesques by dreadpiratewatson, 4 k, teen. Sherlock Holmes takes ballet very seriously. He has an audition lined up with the Royal Academy of Dance, and he’s willing to do anything to get the position, and be absolutely perfect, even run himself into the ground. John Watson has something to say about that.

[apsbicepstraining]

A Time Of Undertaking: 6 Styles To Become A Badass World Traveler In 2016

As 2015 comes to a open, its normal to get romantic and start looking back on the memories constructed over the past year.

Every year has its ups and downs, and some are more fateful than others.

But as I began to think about my 26 th year and the ones before it, I realized for me, theres one fool-proof lane to stir recalls that will stand out in my mind forever, and that mode is to travel.

On top of the priceless knows that “re coming with” exploring a brand-new region, traveling obligates you a most independent, open-minded party and teaches you life assignments you might never learnt cooped up at home.

So while your health and fitness destinations and saving coin are important( and Im right there with you on those, extremely ), I would argue that we should all puttraveling more towards the top of our to-do rosters for2 016.

To help, I reached out to two millennial wandering bloggers who are killing video games, Brooke Saward of World of Wanderlust and Trevor Morrow of Trevor Morrow Travel, to be determined how we can all realize interpreting “the worlds” a realistic resolution in 2016.

Get your priorities in order.

Whether its limited vacation eras or a lack of funds, its easy to make excuses when it comes to travel.

Morrow, who is based in Los Angeles and has done everything from Tarzan-ing in the jungle to brewery hopping in Australia, declares his globetrotting lifestyle isnt plausible for everyone, but he enunciates if there is even the smallestamount of wiggle area in national budgets, all you have to do is prioritize.

He responds,

If gazing fresh is your priority, youll waste your extra money on clothes. If sitting at home and playing video games is your priority, youll invest your money on the latest PlayStation. If traveling is your priority…well, you find where Im departing. You have to really want to travel. Just like you have to really want to break a bad dres or genuinely wishes to get in shape to supersede. If “youre going” it, youll figure out a acces to make it happen. Its as simple as that.

Start out small.

So perhaps you cant afford a ticket around the world just yet. The key thenis to think local.

Morrow mentions,

Try to take three long weekend expeditions this year. Boom, youre now a traveler. Wake up early one Saturday morning and drive a few hours to the nearest big city — devour a cuisine youve never hard-handed before( perhaps Malaysian) and keep walking a neighborhood like youre a neighbourhood. Boom, youre now a traveler.

Saward, who booked a one-way ticket from her dwelling on the Australian island of Tasmania to London in 2012 on the day of her college graduation and has been at it ever since, agrees.

She speaks,

It always surprises me how much enjoyable you can have by only making a short road excursion to the beach or trekking a nearby mountain. One of my favorite things to do is re-explore my home.

Be smart with your money.

Both Saward and Morrow have learned to apply expedition first when it comes to spending.

For Morrow, that means restraint how many times he dines out per month and manufacturing his own lunches every day.

For Saward, its ridding herself of properties she doesnt require, and locating free activities to do with friends.

She alleges,

Taking all your old invests and belongings to a weekend market is a great way to reach some quick currency, as is selling your gondola. Wreaking extra alters not only sets more money in the bank but too impedes you from spending money going out with sidekicks so often, and over time you realize there are plenty of free replacements like catching up with a acquaintance for a strength walk instead of spending money used to go for lunch.

Of course, both are also pros at being thrifty on the road when necessary.

Morrow shows leasing an Airbnb or trying out dwelling exchanges, Couchsurfing, and WWOOF-ing.

Saward is a fan of the app HotelQuickly , which labor kind of like Uber, but for last-minute hotels.

Both advocated grabbing providings at neighbourhood markets instead of dining out for every snack, and taking advantage of free walking tours. Morrow does,

Im a big devotee of Sandemans New Europe Tours. They render great free walking tours in a variety of European metropolis. I think its an awesome happening to do on your first day in town.

Morrow also recommends the book How To Trip The World On $50 A Day by Matt Kepnes, and Saward wrote a upright titled “50 Space I Saved( A Lot) Of Money To Trip The World”on her blog.

Do your research, but be flexible.

Saward isa visual person who starts projecting a potential trip-up as soon as a photo catches her eye.

Morrow has a directory of ends a mile long, but he speaks its important to be flexible.

Be is accessible to what moves your way naturally. If a pal asks you to travel to a destination youve never daydreamed about, consider exiting! Or if you hear about a concerted effort or a celebration that piques your interest, bulge that end up on your schedule so you wont miss it.

It can also be helpful to plan your journeys based on the time of year( Is it rainy season in August? Will it be packed with tourists in June ?), Morrow suggests, and dont keep forgetting current exchange rates.

Ive been to Europe when the Euro is killing the U s dollars, and Ive been in Europe when the Dollar and Euro are on equivalence. Its much, much more fun to make( to Europe or anywhere) when you can stimulate your fund go further.

Dont be afraid to travel alone.

Working around your own planned is hard enough, which is why many of “the worlds” top jaunt bloggers, Saward and Morrow included, often roam alone.

Saward says hugging the no commitments stage of their own lives realise it easier to jump right in.

She adds,

It pressured me to rely only on myself, which is a really humbling knowledge, just knowing that if your entire world was taken away from you, you could make it on your own.

Morrow remembers how he was scared shitless on the plane to Nepal alone at age 18.

But let me tell you, when you return home, youll be confidently swaggering through international airports high-fiving strangers( or at the least thats how youll look ). Are well aware that you may be scared now, and thats normal, but youll be very proud of yourself for doing it. Derive confidence from knowing that traveling alone realise you a badass. Thoughts about those people sitting at home, afraid to go out and suffer “the worlds”. Do you really want to be one of those people? No!

Both travelers agree that the world isnt as creepy as it looks on TV.

Morrow tells,

In general, beings are route more category and good natured than the mainstream media would have you believe. Be street smart, be informed about, be informed, but dont be scared. Oh yeah, and dont be afraid to strike up a communication with beings at your inn/ hostel, at a bar, or on the street. If it gets weird, who attends, youll never attend them again.

Do it right while youre young.

Whatever stage in life you get bitten by the travel defect, own it! But the earlier “youre starting”, the easier it to be able to reap the benefits.

For Saward, who recommends everyone obligate Southeast Asia, South America and a Eurotrip priorities in their twenties, traveling young mean becoming more self-confident in herself.

I became a person I actually like to be around. Before advance I cared too much about what others thought of me and didn’t just knowing that I did and didn’t like( because I wasn’t intrepid enough to try anything new ).

Morrow points out that a well-traveled resume sees you a better being on paper and off.

He reads,

Aside from realizing you a lane more interesting party at parties, traveling while youre young can really change the rest of their own lives. Traveling builds you kinder, more understanding, more patient, more self sufficient — certainly potential benefits are interminable. And its not mentioned often, but the experiences had and sciences acquired from traveling while youre young, especially for longer periods of time or in places that one might consider challenging, can really be selling items in a job interview.

He proposes three types of tours for millennial travelers to kick off your 2016 bucket index TAGEND

1. Lead somewhere as geographically far from being, and as culturally differences between, your residence as you can. And if you can, stay here for as long as possible. A few illustrations would be places like India, Nepal or Japan.

2. Travel in your “countries “. Its easy to be seduced by beautiful photos to foreign targets, but its important be informed about the two countries you call dwelling and the ones who inhabit it. America is utterly gargantuan, and diverse, and beautiful. Take a superhighway trip-up, clique, visit national parks. Visit out of the lane homes. Eat at diners. Talk to the waitress. Youll be surprised that exactly inspecting different parts of American can provide a foreign experience.

3. Party! Drink vodka in Russia, defendant on a beach in Greece, go to a nightclub in Eastern Europe. Attend Carnival in Brazil. Hangovers simply get worse as you get older, so do your party traveling now!

Well, what are you waiting for ?!

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