#part IV

[profanityandprose]

A series of unfortunate events.

Part IV

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

Oxytocin (iv)

Pairing: Egon Spengler x F!Reader

Summary:  While looking for a new research assistant Egon finds you, a parapsychologist whose always wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Little did you both know that there would be a lot more than research and ghostbusting that would bring the two of you together.

Warnings: Suspense, injuries (reader), fluff.

When you woke up that morning you had a dreadful headache. You weren’t sure if it was from stress or if perhaps you were having a sympathy hangover. Needless to say, you didn’t feel very well at all. Turning over to pick up the phone, you dial Ray’s number. Something told you that if you were to call Egon he would shower you in apologies and frankly, you just didn’t want to deal with that now.

“Morning Ray. I’m sorry to do this but I’m not feeling good today. I was hoping I might be able to rest and come in tomorrow.” 

“Oh my gosh, of course! Whatever you need.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He affirms the same and you hang up. Now that you don’t have to go into work you honestly feel a million times better. You suppose it might have just been the anxiety of having to face Egon after the previous night’s debacle. 

After what felt like hours of laying in bed you finally decide to get up and make some kind of breakfast. A bowl of cereal sounds like the most appetizing thing so you make one for yourself and sit at the kitchen table. For most of the day you take up residence in front of the TV, watching whatever is on. When a Ghostbusters commercial comes on, you flip the channel. You couldn’t even look at him. 

Just as you were about to lay down, there was a sharp knock at the door. Your brow furrows as you check the peep hole. Oh. My. God. It was Egon. You cursed, taking a breath before opening the door.

“Egon. Hi.” You say. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. May I come in?” Why the hell not at this point?

“Sure.” You open the door up further, letting the man into the living room. He stands there for a moment, taking in his surroundings.

“This is a lovely apartment.” He compliments. 

“Thank you.” You cross your arms. “Um. Why are you here?” 

“Well, Ray told me that you were sick and I know of a place that makes an excellent chicken noodle soup so I thought I’d bring you some.” Of course. Of course he had to barge into your apartment and act like the sweetest, kindest, and most gentle man ever. You could just beat your fists against his chest with how much love you felt. 

“Oh, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You took the bowl of soup from him, jogging into the kitchen to put it in the fridge. 

“Well, it’s the least I could do.” The air hung heavy with the implications of the night before. Here we go. “Y/N, I’m very sorry about what happened yesterday. When Ray told me you weren’t going to be at work, I was afraid it was because of last night. I know I was terribly out of line. I don’t drink. Ever. It was uncalled for.” 

“Look, Egon. No apology needed.” 

“Now, Y/N--” You stop him. 

“You really don’t need to say sorry. I’m not mad, I promise. In fact, I think in some way I kind of understand why you did it.” 

“You do?” This caused him to seem nervous. 

“Yes, I do. There’s nothing wrong with the way you’re feeling. I just wish you would talk to me about it instead of getting drunk on a Monday night!” The man stood there, lost in thought for a moment. 

“How do you know what I’m feeling?” Was what he managed to say. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he beat around the bush.

“God, Egon. I mean, you are something else. Really. How do you think I know how you feel?” You waited briefly for a response and when you didn’t get one you continued. “Because I feel the same way about you!” As hard as it was, you were getting closer to the truth.

“How can you know I feel the same?” Now you were frustrated. 

“I don’t! Why do you think I’m ‘sick’ today? Because I couldn’t stand the thought of another day of this! Of you not telling me how you feel, of not just being honest with yourself about the fact that you like me! And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you don’t feel the same way. If that were the case, well-- Jesus, I don’t know which one is worse. Realizing you don’t care at all or knowing you do and you still not acting on it.” Egon was taken aback by your outburst, unsure of what to say next. So you continued. “Don’t you think it just eats me up inside to know that I could have you, truly have you the way I want, but you’re just out of reach? You’re keeping yourself distanced.” 

“Stop.” He said softly but you couldn’t. Not now. 

“Do I really need to be the one to say it? I like you Egon!” 

“Y/N, stop.” 

“I like you more than I’ve ever liked anybody and I’m tired of hiding it!” 

“Please.” 

“I am in love with Egon Spengler! I--” Before you could finish your statement he was gripping your arms tightly, pulling your body flush against his own, and kissing you. Deeply. Passionately. Exactly how you’d dreamt it. Surely a dream was all this was. However, you could feel every sensation. The warmth of his lips, the strength of his hands, his skin on yours. His breath on your face as he pulled away. You were silent, eyes closed. His voice roused you from your trance. 

“Y/N, don’t you dare think that I don’t love you.” God, that sounded so good coming from him. “I’ve loved you from nearly the first moment I met you. I think about you every second of every day. I think about you when you’re with me, I think about you when you’re gone. That’s terrifying for me. You know that my brain is my biggest asset. To have it consumed with you is difficult for me. I’ve been trying to learn how to deal with that. I’m a genius in many ways but not with this kind of thing. I’ve wanted to blurt it out for weeks now but I just ... can’t. I’m not brave like you. But I do want you too.” 

The two of you stood there in stunned silence, realizing what had just happened. You had both just said it. It was finally out there in the world, the fact that you loved each other. Now there was no taking it back as much as some part of you wanted to. The deed was done. The only thing left was ... what should you two do about it?

“Okay. I love you. You love me. You just kissed me. We’ve done the confession bit. Now what?” You inquire. He looks down at his feet.

“Well, the best course of action would be for us to go on a date.”  

“I agree.” 

“How about Friday at 8pm? I can come pick you up.” 

“That sounds lovely.” 

“Would you like to organize the evening or should I surprise you?”

“Surprise me.” You said with a smile. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you Friday at 8.” 

“Well, actually you’ll see me at work tomorrow. And the next day. And then date time.” You correct him, unsure of what the week would be like in anticipation of your date with Egon Spengler. 

“Right. Of course.” He really wasn’t kidding about not being able to think around you. It endeared your heart to him even more. 

“Well, thank you for stopping by.” 

“Thank you for having me.” With that you escorted him to the door, ready to lie down for a while and think about the afternoon’s events. However, just as you were about to close the door his foot lodged in the threshold, effectively stopping you. With one strong hand he pushed the door open again and took a few steps back inside. 

Then he was kissing you again. Just as passionately as before. One hand found your cheek and the other rested on your hip as he pulled you as close as humanly possible, his lips soft on yours. When he finally pulled away it was like the first time all over again. You were breathless, eyes closed as you lost yourself in the moment. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t leave without doing that one more time.” 

“No apology needed.” You echo your earlier statement. He gives you one last longing look while carressing your cheek and then he’s out the door. You close it behind him, pressing your back up against it as you contemplated everything that had just occurred. You finally knew his real feelings. He had told them to you. He had said it right to your face and you had acted like he said those kinds of things every day. God, you felt like an idiot. It was the best moment of your life and you hadn’t even handled that correctly. You would have to make a better impression on your date. However, he did say that he liked you. He hadn’t given any stipulations, he just said that he liked you. Exactly for who you are. That was the shining beacon of hope that you clung to as you climbed into bed, falling asleep fairly quickly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Much to your surprise, it was Friday before you knew it. You had been looking forward to it all week but you couldn’t admit that to Egon. Instead you simply went about business as usual. It wasn’t completely the same though. You noticed that he moved a bit closer to you as you worked together. He would do everything in his power to make contact with you as the two of you worked. It was very endearing to you, finding his efforts quite sweet. 

Electricity hung in the air as you both continued your experimentation on Friday. It was all you could do not to jump out of your skin. You wanted to kiss him again and again and again. What you really wanted was to push him back on the work table to see what he could really do. He had been a tease all week with his tantalizing touches, you were yearning for more. However, after the events of Monday night you weren’t even sure if Egon’s mind was in that place anymore. And now that you had confessed your feelings for one another, would he want your first time together to be for the sake of an experiment? You knew you wanted it to mean more than that and you were sure now that he did too. Who knew. Maybe the two of you would never be intimate. All you knew was his touches were driving you up the wall. It was impossible to focus on work. 

He noticed this but didn’t say anything, simply assuming that you were nervous about the evening’s upcoming date. And you were to an extent. However, at the same time, it was Egon. You had known him for several months by this point and now that you two knew you were in love, what was stopping you from simply enjoying your first date together? Nothing. You were free to be as happy as you wanted. 

The day was a blur and before you knew it Egon was saying goodbye to you. Of course you both knew that he would be seeing you again in a few hours but that wasn’t any big deal. Not anymore. The hard part was over. Now, it was on to the fun stuff. You went home and changed into the nicest dress you had after taking a shower. You felt clean and confident, taking a seat on your couch as you anxiously awaited Egon’s knock. When it finally came you were bolting for the door, taking a deep breath before you opened it for him. Upon seeing him in all his glory, dressed up in a tux, you were speechless. He looked so breathtaking it took everything in you to speak. 

“You look ... God, you look good.” You said. When you looked in his eyes you realized that he was having a very similar reaction upon seeing your outfit. You blushed at the sight of his enchantment. 

“Y/N.” As he said this he took a step into the threshold, taking a soft grip of your waist to pull you closer. “You are the most stunning woman I have ever laid eyes on.” Before you could take time to respond his lips were greeting yours happily. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took him in. When you both pulled away you each had a deep red blush blooming in your cheeks. “Should we go?” 

“Yes.” He led you outside to where the Ecto-1 was parked. You giggled at seeing the vehicle. You were being escorted to your dream date in the most attention drawing car you’d ever been in. It was perfect. He opened your door before sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“The boys let me borrow the car just for the occasion.” He added with a grin. There was that dry witty humor that you loved so much. As the two of you rode in the direction of wherever Egon was taking you his hand found your knee, resting there gently. You glanced down at it every now and again, scared that it would disappear. However, it didn’t. This wasn’t a dream. This was real life. And it was all yours. 

Whenever you pulled up outside you saw that the two of you were at one of the nicest restaurants in town. He walked around to your door and helped you out before you could open it for yourself. Once you were outside the vehicle you went to make your way up the steps that led into the restaurant. As you did so, the toe of your heel got caught on a step and you stumbled, nearly falling over. This did not escape anyone’s attention and you wanted to scream. However, the man beside you didn’t make you feel embarrassed at all. He simply extended his arm to you with a smile. You took it as his opposite hand came to rest on top of yours. “Sorry. I don’t wear heels very often.”

“That’s okay. Neither do I.” The two of you laughed alongside each other as he passed off the keys to the valet. Once inside, the waiter escorted you to a table by a window giving you a perfect view of the city at night. “This place is so beautiful Egon. Thank you.” 

“Of course. You deserve nothing less.” Such a gentleman.

“It’s so odd being here with you. I don’t hardly know what to say.” 

“Why don’t you just tell me about you? I want to know every facet of you and your personality.” Just as you go to open your mouth, he holds up a finger to stop you. “Just make sure you tell me very slowly so that it takes a very long time.” He smirks, causing you to blush. You swallow, not sure how to continue after his blatant flirting. After a minute of dancing around your own words, you both find a comfortable pace of conversation. Once you’re over that initial slump, it’s so easy to talk to him. It’s like you’ve known him your entire life. The two of you exchange anecdotes and stories, getting lost in one another’s company. You’re so lost in each other that you almost miss the waiter coming up to your table to take your orders.

“I’ll have the--” You start but Egon politely cuts you off. 

“Could I actually order for you? I have something in mind I think you’ll really enjoy.” You smile, unable to hide how cute you find the gesture. 

“Of course. I did say to surprise me.” The waiter leans over Egon’s shoulder as he points out what he’d like to order. With that, the waiter disappears back into the kitchen, leaving the two of you to continue your delightful conversation. It went on like that for a while until the waiter came out with your food. When he came back out you saw that Egon had ordered you an assortment of Chinese entrees. You smiled. It was a reference to your first lunch together. That first awkward, terrible lunch. What a change from then to now. 

“I knew this place had a Chinese platter that I thought you’d like.” 

“I do. I like it a lot. Thank you.” You both smile up at each other before digging in, not worrying about seeming polite. At this point, you both know that you’re comfortable in front of each other so you felt no need to put on airs about the way that you both eat. 

The meal is heavenly. The two of you continue to talk as you pick through what’s left, commenting on how much you both enjoyed it. “I would order us some wine but I feel like maybe I shouldn’t.” Egon laughed, referencing his little drunken outburst earlier that week. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, remembering what a disaster that night had been. Just as you were about to tease him about it, the waiter came up to your table again beckoning your attention.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Spengler, but you have a call at the front desk.” The two of you exchanged a wary glance. 

“Of course.” He sets his napkin down beside him before getting up and following the waiter to the front of the restaurant. 

You sat there patiently, finishing the rest of your food as you waited for Egon to get back. The minutes seemed to tick past endlessly. As you sat there you couldn’t help but feel the pitiful gazes of the other customers. Another waiter even came up to ask if you were alright. You affirmed that you were, feeling embarrassed at the attention. Eventually he came back to the table however he didn’t look happy. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. That was Ray. There’s something urgent that needs my attention. The guys are out on a call but Janine just got another emergent request. I have to go take care of this. We’ll have to cut the date short.” He extends a hand to help you up. You take it. 

“Of course, Egon. Whatever you need.” The two of you walk out of the restaurant arm in arm, jogging down the steps to where the Ecto-1 was waiting for you. He was about to open your door for you when he seemed to get a sudden realization. You watched the wheels turn in his head for a minute and then he turned to you excitedly. 

“Would you accompany me on this job?” As soon as the words came out of his mouth you could swear you heard a chorus of angels in your head. He was really asking you to go ghost busting with him. This was a dream end to your date which was already perfect. 

“Yes, Egon! Yes. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’d love to.” Seeing your happiness made him blush and he helped you into the vehicle. You were practically vibrating in your seat as Egon slid into the driver’s seat, looking over at you excitedly. Both of you were beaming. As he drove off, turning on the sirens overhead, his hand returned to your knee. Your mind buzzed as you sped down the Manhattan streets in the direction of your first real job with the Ghostbusters. 

When you arrived, you were outside of a hotel. It was one you’d never seen before. It was several stories tall and it looked old and nearly abandoned. Looking up at the building, you almost didn’t notice that Egon was opening your door to help you out again. When you stepped out of the car, you both headed around to the back where the proton packs were stored. They almost always had them in the Ecto-1 in case they should need them. Tonight was a perfect example of that fact. He pulled out the first pack and turned towards you. 

“Alright. I’m sure you’re familiar with our equipment.” 

“Yes. Very familiar.” 

“Then this should be no problem. Let me help you into it.” With that, you spun around so that your back was facing him. When you turned around he noticed a particular feature of your dress that he hadn’t caught onto before. The entire back was open, exposing your skin to him. You waited for him to strap you into the pack however before he could you felt his fingertips graze over your skin, making a trail up and down your bare back. The sensation made you shiver. You turned around slowly to look at him. When he saw that you were looking at him he began to blush. “Sorry.” He mumbled before hoisting the pack up onto your back. It was lighter than you expected. As soon as you were successfully strapped in you took a hold of the particle thrower, pulling it from the rest of the pack. It was like you’d been handling one of these your whole life. Egon was silently impressed as he watched you navigate your way around the equipment. 

When you turned back around, Egon had also strapped into one of the proton packs. With both of you well equipped you headed up the steps into the building. As soon as you made your way into the lobby you were greeted by the hotel manager. He almost did a double take upon seeing you both in your nice attire. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m sorry to have interrupted your plans but this couldn’t wait. There’s ... something ... on the top floor that is terrorizing our guests. I need help. Please, do something!” 

“Of course. That’s why we’re here. Do you know what kind of a ghost you have on your hands?” Egon asked the manager. 

“If I knew what kind of ghost I had I wouldn’t be calling you!” 

“Well, we’ll take care of it.” The two of you jog over to the elevator, pressing the up button. Luckily it was late enough that the lobby was fairly clear. When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, you both stepped inside and pressed the button for the top floor. As soon as you were situated Egon began to walk you through how to work the proton pack. You listened intently, finding all of the various parts and figuring out how it all worked. By the time you arrived on the top floor you knew exactly what to do. You both stepped out of the elevator. All seemed fairly quiet. No guests were wandering about. It was just silent. “Alright, keep an eye out. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here yet so be prepared for anything, okay?” 

You nodded as the two of you began to creep down the hall, keeping your eyes peeled as you looked down each and every corridor. Just as you were about to the end of the floor that’s when you saw it. It looked like a woman but it had no legs. It was a deep pinkish purple, levitating near the wall. It wasn’t facing either of you, turned towards a vase of flowers. Your eyes became wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was really a ghost, before your very eyes. You had studied them religiously yet you had never seen one in person before. This date just got better and better, you thought to yourself. 

“That’s a Class 5 full torso apparition. Be careful. These things can be awfully destructive.” Egon whispers. You nod, unable to speak. 

The two of you take a step closer, trying not to alert the entity to your presence. It’s all you can do not to jump out of your skin from excitement. With particle thrower in hand and the pack already powered up, all you had to do was aim and shoot. However, some part of you didn’t want to. Some part of you wanted to keep observing. You wished you had your notepad so you could be taking notes of its behavior. That was just the research assistant in you. 

You awaited Egon’s signal, knowing that he would tell you when it was time to throw the stream. His hand hovered in the air, waiting for the right moment. You were almost close enough to touch her and yet Egon still hadn’t given the go ahead. Before he could she floated in a circle, turning to face the two of you. You both stopped in your tracks, terrified beyond belief at suddenly drawing her attention. However, she did nothing. Simply floated there, looking at you. Right at that moment, Egon gave you the signal you had been waiting for. The two of you threw your streams in her direction. However, as soon as the packs kicked into gear she disappeared. The streams ran along the wall, leaving a streak of fire and ash in their wake. 

“I’m so sorry!” You told him instinctively, feeling bad about the damage you had just caused. You were sure that their bills were through the roof from how much destruction they caused on the job. 

“It’s okay. Occupational hazard. Don’t worry about it.” He assured. 

You both ran back down the hall you had come down as Egon pulled out the PKE meter, trying to find where she had gone. In the middle of the floor was a large open lobby. There were four large columns on all corners of the open space. The middle had a piano and a few furniture pieces. In the middle of that lobby you found her floating, close to the piano. Egon’s hand went up again however, he didn’t wait nearly as long to give the signal this time. He gave you the go and you turned on your particle thrower, a stream of light coming from one end in the direction of the ghost. This time you actually made contact with her, your stream tangling around her form as if it was a net. Egon began fumbling for the trap as you held her there. 

“That’s excellent! Keep holding her!” Egon yelled out over the sound of the stream. However, what you hadn’t anticipated was how hard it would be to keep her still. She was powerful, much stronger than you thought she would be. Just as Egon was sliding the trap onto the floor she overtook you and snapped the stream away from her. The both of you exchanged a worried glance as you struggled to aim at her again, thrown off guard by her strength. When you glanced back up at her, she was charging in your direction. Thinking fast, you ducked, watching her fly over head. However, what you didn’t realize was that she had run head first into the column behind you. 

You stood to your full height, happy that you had avoided her. That’s when you heard Egon’s voice. “Y/N! Watch out!” Then you heard the crumbling sound from behind you. You turned just in time to see the column fall apart and collapse directly towards you. You sprinted for the other side of the lobby but you weren’t fast enough. A large chunk of rubble came crashing down on top of your calf, instantly shattering the bone. You let out a piercing cry and fell to the floor. Everything around you started to become blurry as you fought against the giant piece of column. Just as the edges of your vision became dark you saw Egon’s terrified face. Then you were gone.

Tags: @localsimpmigraine​ @theespookybitch​ @twinkie-buttercream​ @fizzyfazzy420​ @boneless07​ @holewithinahole​ @spengler-in-a-jar​ @the-hidden-pages​ @the-mechanical-angel​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @egonscalculator​ @sporesmoldsfungus​ @tedesquire​ @killerheelsonadiscodancefloor​ @emeraldborealis​ @bisexual-thoughtss​ @notquitecanon​ @finniestoncrane​ @lonelyridesinecto-one​ ​​@tinyvesselhearts    

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IV): Passive Mulder Turns Passive-Aggressive

As always, interpreting Three Words 'accurately' hinges on the littlest details in every shot, since the writers chose to be overly covert when translating the scripts onto the screen (post here); but the following scene is of paramount importance. It establishes Mulder's reawakened unhealthy routines, his ignited jealousy of Doggett, his distrust of Scully’s judgment, and his choice to push away from recovery and into the pitfalls of from-the-hip reactions. This pattern waxes and wanes the rest of the season until the birth of his child.  

Hanging Out in His Apartment

The day after Mulder's return to his apartment, Skinner drops in and relates Kersh's reassignment refusal. Mulder spends the majority of the conversation letting them ride out their steam, shooting down other avenues to get him back, and ultimately revealing he hadn't cared to get back to work, anyway... until Doggett is mentioned.

Mulder is lounging on his couch sporting casual wear and bedhead, likely roused from sleeping-in (or taking a bonus nap) and dressed in presentable clothes for Skinner's sudden visit. Scully is also in comfy loungewear; and wouldn’t have had enough time to drive home, get changed, and drive to Mulder's apartment if she and Skinner left directly from work. Logically, this means she and Mulder were at his apartment all morning.

So, we know Scully was hanging around (either she spent the night, changed at either apartment, and stuck around or she went home for the night and came back the next day) and Mulder was letting her-- but how does Skinner fit into this domestic (un)bliss? 

It’s hard to know for certain if Mulder had previously talked with Skinner in the hospital or if this is their first time catching up: 

1. We were not privy to their opening “hello” or “good afternoon” scene; and are shown only Mulder’s tailend reaction to Skinner’s news. 

2. Skinner is a consummate professional; and having seen Mulder at his literal worst, nothing afterward would, perhaps, faze him as much. At any rate, it’s in Skinner’s nature to keep a cool, professional demeanor when dealing with his agents about business; and that would be the easiest go-to when handling this situation now. 

3. Skinner has behaved this way before when discussing his own PTSD and trauma: in One Breath, he put aside his professionalism temporarily to appeal to Mulder; but swiftly packed it away and went right back to his work mode. He knows trauma, knows his agent, and probably assumes this is the way Mulder would want it to be. And he’s not wrong.  

What we do know is Mulder, while not himself, is at least acting like himself: trying not to seem aloof; including Skinner in his jokes, ideas, and ruminations; and relying on him-- though in a different way-- as much as he does Scully (and later The Lone Gunmen.) 

The only change is the loss of that touch of vulnerability Mulder often showed Skinner in moments of crisis or great emotion. Now, he keeps a wall up, trying to block in what he considers corrosive parts of himself and block out the sympathy of others so he doesn’t have to address the compiling PTSD. Vulnerability comes with a price at this point; and Mulder-- excepting his brief confession in the previous scene (post here)-- is avoiding it at all costs. 

The Pivot from Passive Mulder to Passive-Aggressive Mulder  

The scene starts out with Mulder sitting, solo, on his leather couch-- more accurately, sinking into it heavily, his normal vibrancy zapped by exhaustion. False bravado is hard to maintain, especially when one has been dead a few days before, is battling worsening PTSD, and now suffers from recurring flashbacks that likely disrupt whatever sleep he can get. 

“Kersh wants to put me behind a desk? That is not what Kersh wants.”

He looks over at Scully and Skinner who hover together a few feet from the couch. It appears that they had just finished their conversation about Kersh, pivoting towards him when Mulder piped up. This establishes a few things:

1. Mulder can already sense how close the two have gotten in his absence-- more accurately, that they've formed a tighter bond over trying to find him and battling Kersh in the meanwhile. (Scully picks up on this, and continually draws back to his side at every available opportunity, reinforcing how much she needs him.)

2. Mulder doesn't appear jealous during this exchange or any future one, seeing it as simply another marker of his time gone.

3. Mulder most likely assumes Scully didn't accomplish much on the files without him, his absence and her pregnancy holding her back (he botched one case in the two months she was gone, after all.) He even slips in the reality that she won't be on the X-Files much longer once her baby is born-- something he's already thought through and assumed she had, as well (which she hasn't, as later revealed in Alone.)

Overall, his consternation is at Kersh, not Scully or Skinner.

Scully strides over, silently asserting that her place is by his side, not their boss's. “Well, I think Kersh wants you to quit, Mulder.” 

An interesting detail: while Scully spends this scene trying to get a pulse on Mulder’s listless mood and doubting whether she should push him forward or let him hang back, Skinner keeps an eye on Scully, judging (correctly) that he will better understand where Mulder’s coming from by reading how Scully reacts to her partner's responses. 

And here’s a crucial detail: this scene sets up Mulder’s back-and-forth when it comes to reaching out and withdrawing from his impending fatherhood. As Scully walks over, her eyes flick down and away; and the camera reveals why when it cuts to Mulder, who has turned away and closed his eyes while she approaches and slowly levers onto the couch.

Throughout Three Words, Mulder does want his child, doesn’t dislike or hate it; but he’s so battered and drained that he can’t bring himself to reach out. In future episodes he bounces between excited father-to-be and man obsessed with answers because he needs to stop what happened to him from ever happening again-- trying to escape his trauma by attempting to stop the source. He begins repeating the past nearly thirty years’ mistakes-- avoiding reality (“life on this planet”) by charging at windmills-- except this time he’s had his peace, had happiness with Scully, and knows he has a kid on the way. It all rings false-- he'll be jumping back into work not because of the wonder of exploration and discovery but because he's using government conspiracies to hide from reality, giving up and reenacting his ‘I did what I could and can’t do any more’ fall back in The Red and the Black, One Son, and Amor Fati. In essence, Mulder is trapped in his trauma response (post here); and-- unable to take a progressive step forward-- he regresses backward to unhealthy Freeze-Flight loops, caught up in unessential “busy work” to distract from the bigger problems he feels he can’t fix. A way to feel in-control in his out-of-control life.

“It’s more than that,” Skinner asserts; and only then does Mulder turn his head, “He wants to punish you. To hurt you.” Another interesting detail: Skinner focuses on Mulder’s emotional well-being, directly stating “hurt you” with venom at Kersh and protective assurance towards his recovered agent. No longer is Skinner willing to be oblique about his care and concern about either agent-- and Mulder responds to this, and lets his boss back in a little bit more.   

Another crucial detail (there will be a lot of these): when Mulder rattles off “And you by putting you in this position--” to Skinner, his voice is solid, stable, ‘normal’; but as he continues “--and Agent Scully”, Mulder falters, his voice sinking, some more of his pain and a little bit more vulnerability bleeding through. The thought of his partner being punished-- in his absence, after his return, for his absence and return-- churns his gut and effortlessly draws out his empathy towards her, despite his erected barriers and avoidance of more personal reconnection. 

Even more crucially-- and touching-- is that Mulder slows his spiel, staring longingly at his partner while he says, “--for not giving up on me.” He then pauses, giving her his full attention and gratitude through their unspoken: he’s moved by her devotion, words not adequate in his beaten down state; and, in his own way, wants her to know he’s seen her efforts, understood the lengths she must have gone, and is overcome by them. 

And Scully knows this, shyly ducking her head down and slightly pursing her lips (a Scully tell of “I heard you, but I don’t know how to respond yet.”) 

Back to business, Mulder’s voice loses that soft quality once again: “Truth is, this was a bullet that was fired about eight years ago.” Sardonically waving his pointer finger around for emphasis, he continues, “It’s a magic bullet that’s been going round and round and right now it seems poised to hit me in the back of the head.” He grimly stares at Skinner, who stares grimly back. 

Scully cuts in, determination in her voice. ”I think the question is, Mulder, are we going to sit here and let this happen?”

Mulder is amused in spite of himself: he doesn’t lose his edge, but he softens at the corners, shooting incredulous smiles at his five-foot-two battle warrior while he ruthlessly (read: affectionately) tears apart her predilection for war with the facts: “Scully, you’re going to give birth in a couple months.” 

She shifts, acknowledging his point, while Mulder keeps talking. “You can talk as tough as you like, but you know and I know and they know that in a little while you’re going to have more important things than whether or not the X-Files remains open.” 

But it’s more than just the facts: Mulder doesn’t want to fight. 

Mulder is not only traumatized but also willfully passive, seeing no hope in struggling for victory when all options are played out before they’ve even begun. Kersh reassigned him, Scully's leaving, the X-Files are doomed; and because they are doomed, he doesn't want to go back to work (and later doesn't want Scully to go back to work if Doggett is there and he's not.) It’s a cynicism that is hand-in-hand with his eternal optimism: when that optimism burns out, he quickly reverts to cynicism and Freeze-Flight loops. 

Mulder has always responded well to Scully’s logical deduction or scathing criticism-- and it is scathing, at times-- because he needs to be told straight, in no uncertain terms, how he’s messing up and how he can fix it and move forward (ex. Scully reaming him about giving up on the world and himself in One Son and Amor Fati.) Scully, however, doesn’t trust herself to advise or even unleash on Mulder, knowing the pain of this specific violation but without the full horror of her memories to contextualize and fully understand it. Likely, she doesn’t even know Mulder can remember, assuming he was returned ‘blank slate’ like herself; and Mulder’s reticence and withdrawal compared to his previous vim and vigor whenever the government or aliens tampered with his memory utterly baffles her. And so, they coast… (until an off-screen scene right after this episode ends. But I digress.) 

Scully looks away, knowing Mulder has her dead-to-rights but also knowing a piece of information he doesn’t: that Kersh still wants Doggett on the files. This means she and Skinner talked over Kersh's meeting before Skinner told Mulder; and that Scully still had not shared about Doggett, yet. 

“Agent Who?” Mulder asks, intrigued more than threatened.

And then he’s met with silence; and realizing that’s never a good sign, he looks toward the one person he trusts to give him a straight answer… and realizes Scully hasn’t told the entire truth. 

“I’ve had a partner… for the last seven months,” she reluctantly admits. 

Mulder, struck, doesn’t even realize his head has wobbled back on the headrest while staring (blankly then angrily) at his partner. 

The fact that Scully withheld this information means two things to Mulder--

1. Scully and Skinner kept him out of the loop about his job-- which is very different than wanting him back but respecting his distance. 

2. Scully intended to keep important information from him, period. 

--and sets fire to those old insecurities: Scully “I’m fine”ing through the years, Scully not admitting to what she saw because she was afraid, and Scully not relaying details to him to either protect him or herself. It’s the worst thing to reignite now because Mulder had thought she was the only certainty-- such as it is-- in his new, uncertain world; and now he wonders if he can rely on her, wonders if she trusts this ‘new’ him as much as the ‘old’ him. 

“He was assigned to help me find you,” Scully adds. 

Increasingly uncomfortable, Mulder pulls his legs into a pseudo-ball and wraps his arms around them, creating a soothing embrace of a sort for himself as well as another barrier to shield his anger at her and Skinner. “Mission accomplished.” 

His act isn’t quite good enough-- Scully, dismayed, sees right through it; but doesn’t comment while he continues his questions to Skinner, not to her. 

When Doggett doesn’t measure up to Mulder’s paranormal expertise, his dark suspicions become darker and more suspicious: “I see. Then maybe the question is not ‘who fired this magic bullet’ but whether or not it was a lone gunman.” He smirks, a wonky facsimile of his old, self-abasing, conspiratorial humor.  

Again, Scully cuts in, not wanting Mulder to waste precious energy on an ally. “Agent Doggett is above reproach, Mulder. He’s being maneuvered just like you.” 

Mulder is not convinced. “Good. At least he’s maneuverable.” With that, he immediately launches out of his seat and rushes off. 

Mulder no longer trusts the angle of Scully’s judgment, translating her hesitancy to share Doggett as another clue of her blind belief ala religion, science, and some supernatural experiences (as well as her indignation over Diana Fowley in One Son, post here.) To Mulder, Scully was loyal to him and did her best in his absence… but she also let a wolf waltz into their office and remain in her midst, a part of their work, and next to her and her child. From here on out, Mulder chooses to follow no one’s council but his own, his trauma taking on a new shape: thrashing self-protection-- channeling his helplessness into hostility against Doggett and willfully disregarding Scully’s warnings as an effort to ‘save’ her from herself. He’s seen things she hasn’t, he remembers what she doesn’t, and he won’t let it happen again-- for her sake, but really for his own. 

The last part of this scene is important, as well, hammering home how disconnected Mulder feels from himself before the Kersh madness was even brought to his doorstep:

“Where are you going?” Skinner monotones, talking down a crazy man. 

“Gonna get dressed. For the first time, I feel like getting back to work.” 

And for a man who felt alive and as close to whole as possible when chasing down leads with his fearless partner, this is both an alarming tell of his present feelings and a warning sign for his future recklessness.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[logray]

THE PHANTOM MENACE (1999) REVENGE OF THE SITH (2005) OBI-WAN KENOBI: PART IV (2022)

[spellsword177]

Thoughts on Fence: Redemption Part IV

With this conclusion we are now at a very different spot from where we were after Fence: Disarmed. Some things were done better and others not so well. While there was no live fencing this time, we did see some major character development for the King's Row fencing team.

Starting with most intriguing change, it was great to finally see Coach Williams fencing even if it was an incomplete clip of the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. There is clearly more to this story, and I'm very interested to see how it all plays out.

Seiji had a decision to make, and Nicholas's meteoric rise in the fencing world inspired him to stick with King's Row. I loved how he's finally starting to see the potential Nicholas represents and what he could do if he just wants it enough. It's amusing his casual wardrobe seems to match the rut he finds himself in. Perfectly put together, but very uncreative and predictable. Some spontaneity wouldn't kill him and might actually give him an edge.

I loved the greater insight into Nicholas's world and the little peek into his friend group before King's Row. It was great seeing Coach Joe again and a good reminder to Seiji that fencing can just be for fun. Love the subtle touch of Seiji wearing his jacket at the park. They are becoming a couple whether they admit it or not. As for Kyle, I don't believe he'll represent as much of a challenge to Nicholas the next time they face off. His reaction is the one I'm most looking forward to when the truth about Nicholas is inevitably revealed.

If there was one thing done better in the novels it was Harvard and Aiden's relationship; I was not so fond of seeing the will they or wont they strung out again between these two. Still, it was great to see Harvard work on himself for once instead of constantly giving his best to other people. Likewise, I did enjoy seeing Aiden help out Seiji for his date.

Bobby and Eugene unfortunately did not get as much development this time around and I would like to see more growth from both of them. I still enjoyed seeing Bobby turning into a bit of the resident detective in uncovering the clip of Coach Williams. Will it lead to Detective Rodriguez uncovering Nicholas's secret? Time will tell.

Overall, this story arch has been great. Nicholas is starting to come into his true potential as a fencer, and Seiji is coming realize Nicholas is the only one who can get him where he needs to be. Harvard might actually start to improve his own weaknesses, and Aiden might have to start picking up the slack by helping the rest of the team. I look forward to the next step in our favorite fencing team's journey to the state championship and victory.

[seoul-bros]

I'm no longer afraid of the thought of picking myself up during difficult moments - GQ Interview Part IV

Post Date: 18/10/2023

[fivekrystalpetals]

Glen, Children of Misfortune, Juries and the Baskervilles

[When I say Glen, I am referring all Glens- past and present: Levi, Oswald, Gil and Leo. Hella lot of lore is here that I wanna write about ;-; so I might divide this into different posts let's see. Also fair warning: I might criticize Oswald's actions-past and present- a bit, since I love looking at characters from an unbiased pov. Also, maybe some characters' past actions in order to point to their character development so that too.]

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

4] Oswald and Lacie

Truth be told, Oswald has always been “passive”. He doesn’t know what he really wants. He had already been training to become the next Glen (ref: Part 1) and it was drilled into his mind that he was to cast Lacie into the Abyss right from the beginning. He doesn’t question this rule.

Not even when Lacie hints that the purpose of the existence of a Child of Ill-Omen might not be what it is said to be (Retrace 101):

And his answer to this theory of hers is:

You are not crazy. If that’s the answer you came to, it is doubtlessly the truth for you.

That’s… that’s not the right response to it!!!

“The truth for you,” he says, basically responding: “Oh if what you say makes you happy, then so be it. But the truth is different.” (No! It is not!)

Why won’t he grasp at straws to save her if he loved her and cared about her? Why won’t he even try to research the possible truth of her words? Why won’t he at least make an attempt to stop the needless execution of his dear sister? Lacie has grown up beside him; what great ‘threat’ did she cause to the condition of the Abyss in all those years she was alive? But he doesn’t dare question any of it; he simply, quietly, “passively” goes ahead with what was asked of him.

[Whereas, in Retrace 91/92, it’s proven Lacie had been right all along. Nothing like Child of “Ill-Omen” exists and all of those lies had been set down as “rules” for the Juries’ selfish purposes.]

Again, I’d also, well not exactly excuse him, but, as Oz and Break say, there is always the chance that he couldn’t have known the truth about the Child of Ill-Omen. Not until after Lacie had died and perhaps, during his short stint as Glen, he must have come to realize that the Jury had more to do with this affair than met the eye, the reason why he brought along Vincent to the final Gate in the last Arc.

.

Okay, but this aside, his response to her every word is always so... resigned?

See, Retrace 72:

Why does Lacie have to be the one to do this? She is the sinner here, your prisoner due to be executed in five days; why would you ask something like this of her? If Oswald truly wanted Lacie to survive, he should have been the one to tell Jack everything and ask him to take her away with him if he can't protect her anymore. But he keeps quiet.

(He does regret this, in Retrace 101.)

I chose being the head of Baskervilles over being Lacie's older brother. And yet I did not drive Jack away, even after I realized how twisted he had become.

He is ruthless in some places, soft in some. Like if he was ruthless to Lacie, he'd have been the same to Jack as well. The reason he was not, because that was the only way he could be soft on himself and lessen his own guilt.

Continuing from there, (Retrace 73), Lacie is the one to apologize for being "too harsh on him" and then goes on to tell how she has never regretted being born with red eyes or living in this world. "I love this world," she says.

Okay, this is a panel of so many contradictions, you know. Oswald says Lacie is strong, but she disagrees and says she is "ten times more cynical than other people."

Both of them are wrong.

Lacie was neither strong nor cynical. She was scared. Yes, scared. Terrified. Lacie was terrified of dying, of being cast into the Abyss, so terrified that she woke herself up from nightmares of their first day at the Baskerville estate, of learning her fate from the Jury and Glen...

....just mere days before her execution: (Retrace 67/68)

I am going off a tangent to do a quick character analysis of Lacie (I will do a longer one later, but just this one aspect of her characterization) that both Oswald and Jack had the wrong impression of Lacie. Oswald assumed her to be so strong that she could shoulder the burden of loneliness and death all by herself. He assumed she didn't want to live any longer, that she had already seen so much and experienced all that the world has to offer that she no longer had any more worldly desires. In short, he saw her as some sort of motherly saint.

As for Jack, she is his Dream Girl to put it simply. At the most depressing and most vulnerable point of his life, when he chanced to meet such a vibrant girl like Lacie, he latched onto her for his life, absorbed every word she uttered, learnt the song she sang once on a whim and sang nothing but that for the next eight years. The casual advice she gave him as a turbulent, rebellious and frivolous teenager... okay, but, let's be real here. Lacie was simply spouting whatever came to her mouth atm in the name of 'advice'. She was passing time till her brother apologized to her and she'd be brought back home. She most probably didn't think Jack, being one of a kind, would accept her words so literally that he obeys them verbatim, even if he was disgusted by what he was forcing himself to do. He put her on a sky high pedestal that he was scared to even touch her lest she loses her "magic" in his mind. That's also the reason why he never questions her lie (her lie about the Succession Ceremony) because he was scared whatever image he had of her might shatter if he pressed on. (Yeah, I gotta write a longer post about Jack's and Lacie's relationship, bc it's one of the most fucked-up yet tragic, most hollow yet sincere relationships if ever there was one)

I guess, of all people, as sad as it is, only Levi got to see her at her most vulnerable? (Retrace 68):

Neither Oswald nor Jack have seen her like this—a scared girl, full of loneliness and regrets of not being able to live longer. And yet, when Levi casually mentions about her death in another five days, she grins as if she's looking forward to it. Which, in reality, is just a mask to cover her terror.

Why I am saying this is—as context for Oswald's line "I shall be lonely if you disappear" and her midnight walk later to the tree where the three of them used to hang out. Lacie says big things like I love this world, I love the Abyss, even when Levi asked her to assist his 'experiment', her only query was if the Abyss won't be lonely anymore,,, but she doesn't let her own loneliness or regrets to surface. She bottles up all of it. Why? Because she has to be strong for Oswald and pretend like she is taking all of this in stride to lessen his guilt.

Whereas Oswald does not ask her if she is alright. If she is lonely. If she is scared of being cast into the Abyss. If she wants to run away.

(In fact, if you see the hug, it's Lacie who is hugging Oswald in a comforting, motherly hug as if he's in greater need of comfort than her, because, of course, she must be completely, totally at terms with her Fate, right?)

In that regard, I am sure Jack would definitely have inquired after her if only he didn't place her on an otherworldly pedestal and realized things might go wrong with his Dream Girl too. Moreover and most importantly, Jack was kept in dark about most things connected to the Baskervilles and he had also promised not to dig too much if he was only allowed to meet Lacie. So I won't blame him for not pressing when she lied. He must have assumed it's Something Baskerville Ritual, not that it'd be something that'd directly affect his Lacie.

But Oswald is her big brother. Oswald knows everything about the Baskervilles. He is going to become the next Glen. Yet... he does nothing, asks nothing. Almost like Oswald had long given her up for dead. Like he can't do anything for her anymore whereas she is still alive and chatting right there with him.

He is always thinking of the days after she'd be gone, and never ever gives any thought to their present.

Remember Rufus Barma's words from Retrace 86 and I must agree:

You speak as if you've already given up.

Exactly. As I said in Part 1 of this long essay, Oswald was the full-fledged Glen when he cast Lacie into the Abyss. With the title of Glen, even if he simply brushes aside the rules and sets new ones for his reign, who could possibly question him? He had five black-winged chains of the Abyss in his possession. The Juries might protest,, but if Lacie is there, they can't do anything. They are scared of the Child of Misfortune.

Even Leo points this out correctly:

He is always waiting for someone with a stronger will to come help him out of problems he needs to solve on his own.

In his penultimate appearance, he finally, finally, takes a decision and drops his sword. He decides to not kill his sister a second time. And, immediately, people who have always cared for him (if only he ever gave them a chance) gather around him to assure him that he had done well, done enough.

Well, tl;dr, what I am trying to say is that Oswald should have stuck firmly to his decision whatever it was. If he had cast Lacie into the Abyss, then he should have dealt with the consequences appropriately. If he had stopped her execution, then he should have been strong enough to face off the Juries. Whatever his decision, he should have been thorough with it instead of being half-hearted, passive and resigned about everything.

Ending this loooong essay (;_;) on a funny yet interesting note (this omake from Vol. 19) which presents the kind of Oswald I actually wanted to see. The premise might be absurd but he, for once, drops his air of resignation and faces off the Glen himself for his sister, going to the extent of dropping formality and addressing him by his name lol

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

This. Is. Trauma.

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

A Peaceful Elf

Part IV

Halsin/Tav fanfic (slow burn, fluff, angst)

I bet he could pop my head like a grape with those, no question.

The thought floated through your hazy mind as you took in his frame, particularly his arms. By now, the party’s energy took a more languid turn with most standing or lounging and more than a few pairs had shuffled into the nearby dark.

How does he get like that, you continued to muse as he still somehow had the stamina to talk with an unsteady Zevlor. There’s just, so much of him. How. 

The wine in your goblet swirled like the thoughts in your mind. All circular. The gods outdid themselves when they sculpted that.

“And he’s so NICE,” you sighed out loud, startling yourself right as he noticed you. Thankfully, you sat on the other side of camp, still, so it was unlikely he’d heard. A passive smile at you, again. A passive one returned. Gods, how many times had you looked at him tonight and been noticed? And how many drinks had you finished?

“Oh, is he, now? My dear, you’re beginning to make even me uncomfortable. You’ve no finesse at all,” the former magistrate clicked his tongue as he filled another glass of wine, “how unfortunate for you.”

“I had plenty of finesse on—in that goblin camp, I’ll have you know,” you stammered. 

“Ha, oh, yes, I was there, remember? Well, good for you, but if you haven’t noticed, there isn’t a single goblin here and you’ve barely moved from this seat.” He placed the bottle on the table covered in remnants of fare, back turned to the rest of the camp. He angled himself to face you, elbow propping him up against the table. “What you have done,” he continued in an amused, sultry tone, “is stare at that overgrown stuffed bear and try to pretend you don’t care if words fail to pass between you tonight. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic,” he finished, turning back to the table.

Your eyes narrowed at him and you held out your goblet, wordlessly commanding him to refill it. A sideways glance at the cup, then you, then at a wedge of cheese.  “I think not,” he stated, examining the wedge closer. “At least, not until you speak to that brick wall with eyes.” He scrunched his nose in disgust and put the wedge back. “You need to earn this next glass,” grabbing a somewhat stale baguette end with a sneer.

You scoffed, bewildered at his investment in this. “Why do you care? Have you gotten tired of our ‘arrangement’?” Cocking your head, “I don’t know if you were aware, but you could have told me as much instead of nudging me towards the next elf we came across.” There was humor in your tone, but less than you had planned.

Astarion turned to you slowly, with intention and a shadow of reservation in his eyes and lowered voice, “My dear, I have every intention of continuing our little pact if you do.” He held your gaze a moment longer, as if he meant to say more; then, gracefully snapped back to his usual laissez-faire demeanor, hand on one hip and leaning against the table once more. “I just think you deserve a bit of fun. And I love to see where a plot leads,” he said, trading the baguette for an apple with a demure smile.

You blinked. “Ah, I see. Um, did I—did I misunderstand…something? I thought you wanted to introduce me to your concept of ‘fun’ after the party…” you trailed, your attention suddenly taken by movement across the camp. 

Astarion smiled wistfully down at you for a beat while you noticed a few celebrants begin to pack up. He leaned in as you turned back to him, held your tired eyes in his, then dobbed you on the nose. “I think I like you better when you smell less like ale and longing. It’s not you, it’s me,” he said, slowly straightening up with a gleam in his eyes. “I have standards.” Turning gracefully, he swept the remaining two bottles in his arms, strolled back to his tent, and remarked, “DO let me know how it goes!”

There were too many thoughts swirling in your mind to fill a sentence, but something close to I should have left him at the wreckage seemed to collect them well.

Alright, you swung the rest of the warm, bitter wine back, piece of cake.

—

The night had grown long and his bones yearned to walk among trees and moss. He could excuse himself from the adventurers’ camp, and find a trail back to the grove easily. He just needed to feel the forest again, after that cell. Zevlor could find his way back with the more sober-minded tieflings, like Ikaron. The druid stretched his legs lightly, easing his stiff joints. Let a few more leave, and then I can—

…Was that Tav headed over to him? Now? 

Oakfather preserve her, how is she still standing? he mused, a smirk lingering on his lips as she made her way to him. A noticeable warmth crept up his back, reaching the tips of his ears, again. He ignored it as best he could.

She seems quite determined. Probably has a dozen concerns regarding Moonrise.

“Arch Druid,” Tav stated, with an uncharacteristic bow.

Such an odd one.

“Tav,” a toothy grin. “Don’t waste a night like this talking to me. We’ll discuss our problems tomorrow.”

“I thought, you might care to have a drink with me,” she ended on a perceptibly high note.

Puzzled. He hadn’t expected this response at all. Surely, she had plenty of companions to share a livelier drink with than him.

“Uh, well, in truth, I rarely imbibe; the stuff goes straight to my head. Before you know it, I’d be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on,” he chuckled, awkwardly.

She seemed to perceive how off-balance the question had put him. “I fail to see the problem,” Tav quipped.

“Then you have never heard me singing, which makes you very fortunate.”

Halsin noticed a shift in her gaze.

“Perhaps, there’s something else you’d rather do, then…” almost a whisper. She peered at him through her lashes.

She’s toying with me, Halsin realized.

A small flame ignited somewhere in his wide frame, and this time, it couldn’t be tamped down. 

He huffed, trying to subtly clear his throat. “I’m sure there are.” The elf paused, taking her in briefly, “You strike me as extremely…resourceful.” That was the most delicate way an Arch Druid could phrase it in front of the remnants of his grove that still remained. More colorful descriptions had presented themselves.

His mind lingered a beat longer on the thought.

No, he needed to collect himself. This was not exactly the behavior a leader should show to those he was about to lead through peril. It was unbecoming. 

Halsin cleared his throat. “But there are many grateful people here who want to spend time with you. I must not keep you all to myself.” He paused, then leaned an inch toward her and admitted with a shy smile, “As enjoyable as that may be.” 

The level of their acquaintance altered the slightest bit by the smile they shared. Almost imperceptible, but impossible to ignore.

Halsin straightened back to his full height and surveyed the camp once more. “Go on, enjoy yourself! Seek out some wine before it runs dry—there are a lot of thirsty people around here.” He nodded ever so slightly to Tav, who made her way back toward the center of camp—

Back toward—

The pale one’s tent.

It seems she has plans of her own, Halsin smirked, suddenly feeling less responsible for her merriment. The spark in his chest had yet to abate.

—

A lot of thirsty people indeed.

“Astarion, where’s that Ithbank?”

Heavens above, it will be a VERY cold night, you frowned as the lean elf poured with a toothy grin.

[jkpancake29]

I always forget Lupin III has supernatural elements in the movies and shows so when they do come up I'm always caught off guard. Like I've been watching part 4 and there is an episode where he just straight up talks to a ghost and asks no questions. And I just got past the midway point but I don't want to spoil what's happening now.

[peonierose]

Once (4/5)

**This story takes place before it was revealed that Addison would come back/is alive **

Book: The Nanny Affair & Open Heart Crossover / AU

Characters involved: Sam Dalton (M!MC), Ethan Ramsey (M!MC) and Robin Flores (M!MC)

Part IV of V / Miniseries

Words: 4,000+

Rating: Mature

TW: Cancer, character death, mental illness

Summary: It’s the day of Addis funeral. Thankfully Sam isn’t alone he has his friends and family to be there for him.

A/N: This is in honor of my friend Mira who died from ovarian cancer. May you rest in peace 💜

A/N part 2: @annieruok94 Thank you for proofreading 💚

Music Inspiration: You can check out some songs I posted for @moodmusicmonday Here’s a complete list for all the songs of all chapters 🥰

Part IV

The evening before Addie's funeral started with heavy rain, pelting mercilessly on the windows of our apartment in New York.

Then I correct myself. It's now my apartment, not ours, since Addie…is gone. I lean my head against the cold glass and just breathe out through my nose.

I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance as lightning illuminates the otherwise dark room with white and purple light.

I lift my head and look up.

With my hand in my pocket, I stared outside at the skyscrapers rising high in the air. City lights glow from down below.

I saw my reflection staring back at me in the glass of the window. Looking tired and forlorn. I feel like a piece of me died with Addie. We might’ve had our ups and downs but I love her. No matter what happened.

God, I miss her so damn much.

I look down at the glass of scotch I poured earlier. Losing count of how many drinks I’ve had tonight. Not giving two fucks if I’m hungover the next day. At least it’ll numb my pain for a little while.

I’m swirling the scotch in my hands that I poured myself a while ago. The ice cubes have already melted inside. Watering down the taste of the scotch.

I take a sip, as it smoothly runs down my throat burning its way down.

“Getting shit-faced. Is that how you’re spending your days now, Sam?“

I hear an angry voice. That voice belongs to my non-biological brother Robin. A pain-in-the-ass if you ask me.

Unbothered by his presence I take another sip and keep staring outside.

He comes to a stop next to me. I don’t even look at him. Just continue looking outside. Not seeing anything.

“Anybody home?“ He taunts me.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

“What do you want?“ I ask not caring how I sound.

“Oh, so he speaks? That’s nice,“ he says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes at that. Robin has never been very subtle. I always admired that about him in a way. He’s passionate and doesn’t hold back when it comes to the people he loves.

“Again what do you want?“ I just want him gone and to be left alone. So that I can finish my drink in peace.

That’s when my drink is yanked out of my hand.

“The hell, Rob?“ I glare at him. My voice is dangerously low. But he either ignores that or doesn’t care. I’d say it’s a bit of both.

“What is wrong with you? Addi died and all you seem to care about is getting shit-faced?“ He almost shouts at me. His fists clenched at his sides, anger rolling off of him in waves.

“Do I look drunk to you? No? Then kindly fuck off.“

I’m holding out my hand for him to pass me my glass.

He just scoffs.

“You know what? No. I’m not just going to leave you here. So that you can wallow in misery,“ he pauses for a second, before continuing.

I raise my eyebrows at him. Not care why he’s here. I love him, but right now? I want to get drunk. Not having a heart-to-heart.

Robin continues unperturbed.

“As for why I’m here. Mom called me. Since you don’t know what a phone is these days and how it works. She asked me to check in on you. You ghosted everyone. Our parents are worried. So are Mickey and Mason. Remember? Your kids? Whose mom died?“ He punches the bridge of his nose and breathes out a deep sigh.

My breath hitches at the mention of my boys. But I don't want to talk to Robin, because once I start? I won’t be able to finish. Because I know I’ll break down and weep like a little baby.

So I school my features.

“Our parents? You mean my parents? We're not blood-related, Robin.“

I know that was a low blow. But I just want him gone. If there is no other way than hurting him so that he leaves? So be it.

He inhales sharply at my words. But then a look of understanding and softness enters his espresso-colored eyes.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Sam. You’re trying to hurt me with words so that I’ll leave. Nice try,“ he just looks at me.

“Who says I was lying?“ I raise an eyebrow and bite my inner cheek.

“Really? What would Addi say if she could see you now? Drinking? Being an ass? Pushing family away? That’s not you Sam!“ He sighs.

“I’m not in the mood for a fight.“

I say in response.

He shakes his head at me.

“Color me surprised. I thought for sure, that’s where you were going with your little insults. But what do I know? I’m your not-brother who still gives a damn about you. Even though you act like a complete asshole right now,“ he says.

“Just because I don’t react the way you want me to, doesn’t mean you can just come in here and belittle me. I love Addi. Not one minute goes by that I don’t miss her. The hardest part was to know she won’t make it. Do you know what that’s like?“

My voice is rising. And Robin sighs in turn.

“No, I don’t know. But don’t shut us out, Sam. We all love and care about you and the twins. Let us help. Let us carry some of the burden for you. You’re not alone,“ he places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I don’t instantly shake it off.

Seeming to consider his words carefully.

“Look, Sam. Nobody is trying to make this harder on you than it already is. We’re all just trying to process this and find a way to move on. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. Everything you’ve been going through since Addi was diagnosed with cancer. We all loved Addi. And now she’s…gone,“ he sighs at the last word.

I let my head fall overcome with suppressed emotions.

“I was trying to numb the pain. That’s why I was drinking. I was halfway there when you barged in.“

I chuckle but it sounds bitter and sad.

“You could’ve at least offered me a drink. No one should drink alone. Come on.“

Robin attempts a smile, that’s more of a half-smirk. But a small smile creeps into the corner of my mouth and stays there.

He pats my back and I look at my brother. Who is a friend whom I’ve been a dick to, just because I needed to lash out at someone.

Because I’m angry, sad, frustrated and just so fucking tired. As if all these months of pain are pouring out on me. Like heavy rain.

This little cloud of swirling emotions is spinning through me and I don’t know what to do. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should let my family help and carry some of the burden.

I sigh again. So much for thinking that drinking was a good start.

Maybe a vacation or going someplace that doesn’t remind me of Addi would be better instead.

Just to relax and spend time with my boys who are grieving but don’t understand what the fuck is happening because they’re too young.

As Robin and I sit down he looks at me, as if he knows exactly what’s going on inside my head.

“Let’s get drunk,“ he waggled his eyebrows and moved into the living room to find the bottle of scotch I opened earlier. Or was it yesterday? I laugh silently. Not even knowing where yesterday went.

“Aren’t we a little too old for hangovers?“

“Speak for yourself, old man! I don’t have hangovers,“ he gets himself a glass from the cabinet and pours each of us a drink. I watch as the amber-colored liquid fills our glasses.

Clinking our glasses together. We both take a sip.

“This is some good stuff.“ Robin whistles.

I shrug.

“Did you really expect me to get drunk on some cheap liquor? Who do you take me for?“

“God you’re such a snob. But at least I know where to find the good stuff if I ever need a stiff drink,“ he smiles to himself.

We drink in silence. Consumed by our private thoughts.

Robin clears his throat. I look up. He wets his lips looking away. He’s nervous about something.

“Just say it.“

“I heard Addis' parents are coming to the funeral. You never really talk about them. Is there bad blood between you guys?“

He almost whispers the question, as if he’s afraid of how I would take the question.

I take another gulp before answering.

“Not bad blood in and of itself. We just never got along, that’s all.“

Not willing to say more. Robin doesn’t seem convinced.

“There’s got to be more to the story,“ he pushes.

I put my glass on the table immediately, missing its weight in my hands. I lean back in the chair.

“There’s not much to tell. Ever since Addie introduced us there’s been tension. Why? I don’t know. I‘d guess they thought I wasn’t good enough for their daughter.“

“What? You? Not good enough for their daughter? What gives?“ He asked.

“All I know is they come from old money and they probably had someone else in mind for Addie. But she went and married me. Which pissed them off. We never had a peaceful dinner together. One that didn’t end in an argument. They never visited us or gave a damn about Addie. And when Mickey and Mason were born…“

Thinking back to that day. Holding them both in my arms. Those tiny and fragile little humans. My heart is swelling with love.

I knew then and there that I would always love them. Never be their cause for doubt. Yes, I might be strict sometimes. But only because I love them and don’t want to lose them. Like I lost Addi. I take another sip from my drink.

Those boys? They are the most precious gift of all time.

Seeing their smiles every day and being excited about those god-awful experiments? Addie always encouraged them in that regard. I’m smiling to myself lost in thought.

I haven’t noticed the silence that was stretching for far too long.

When Robin’s voice brought me back.

“What’s that smile for?“ He points in my direction with his glass.

“I was thinking of the day when Mickey and Mason were born. And how happy I felt while I was holding them. Being scared of what to do, you know? Then they opened their eyes and just looked at me. It was love at first sight. Holding your child in your arms, it’s incomparable,“ smiling fondly at those memories.

“I’ll take your word for it brother,“ he sips from his drink while glancing down at his watch. He notices my stare.

“Hot date?“ I ask curiously.

He almost chokes on his sip.

“Yeah, right.“

I smirk.

“Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch?“

“No. I’m just busy.“ That is all he says.

I arch an eyebrow at that explanation.

“Right. Of course.“

He sighs loudly.

“Don’t be smug, okay?“

I hold up my hands, smiling.

“I’m just looking for something different. So far I haven’t found it,“ he looks into his glass as if it was holding all the answers.

He gets up from his seat and puts down the glass.

“I should be going. I am busy.“

It looks like he wants to say more. Opening and closing his mouth.

He continues in a soft voice. One I don’t hear often.

“Don’t push the people who care about you away. You don’t have to go through it alone. We’re all here for you. Whatever you need. Just don’t shut us out. Please. The twins can’t lose another person. Neither can we. We love you Sam,“ he smiles softly.

About to leave, when I get up and give him a tight hug.

He didn't expect it and stood still for a moment. Then he relaxes and returns the hug.

“Thank you.“ I whisper.

“I’m sorry about earlier…You are my brother, even if not by blood. Family don’t end with blood.“

He takes a step back and just stares at me.

“Are you quoting Bobby Singer from Supernatural?“ he asks, grinning at me.

I smack him on the arm.

“Don’t make me feel weird about this.“ I say.

He throws his head back and laughs out loud.

“Oh my god. Samuel Alexander Dalton. You watch Supernatural?“

I scoff embarrassed.

“So what? A lot of people do. There’s no shame in that. And why are you giving me shit for that? I know Addie got you hooked on it too,“ I flushed beet red.

“What are you talking about?“ He’s trying to deflect the question.

“What am I talking about? When you both had the flu and were sick for almost a week you sat down and watched seasons 1 through 11. Nobody was allowed to talk or say anything about Sam or Dean. Also, Addie told me that you made some friends online and discussed the episodes with others.“

His cheeks are flaming red and he’s trying to flee.

“Okay, I admit it. I love the show. It has great dialogue and Dean and Sam are hilarious. Happy?“

He throws up his hands in the air and asks impatiently.

“Very.“ I smile.

He rolls his eyes at that.

“Oh and Rob?“ I can’t help saying one last thing, as he’s waiting for the elevator to take him downstairs.

“Yeah?“ He turns around expectantly.

I laugh delightedly.

“SupernaturalFan_67? Does that name sound familiar to you?“ I ask jokingly.

“How…do…you…When…What?“ He stammers.

Tapping his foot impatiently on the marble floor as he’s waiting for the elevator.

He’s clicking the elevator button several times for good measure.

“You left your laptop open when you visited that one time, and Addi saw it and showed it to me. We just couldn’t resist.“

I bite my lip to not burst out laughing when I see the dirty look he gives me.

“That’s why those weird comments appeared. You two made those,“ he points an accusing finger at me.

He sighs.

”I thought I was being hacked. Damn, you’re such a dick, Sam,“ he says as he gets into the elevator.

I wink at him and he rolls his eyes but smiles.

He’s mumbling something under his breath which makes me laugh even harder.

Even after the doors close I’m still laughing.

When I sit down again to enjoy the rest of my remaining drink. I see an old record peeking out from the table.

When I lean forward to see which one it is. I see it’s one of Addie's favorites.

Linda Ronstadt - Long, Long time.

Ah. That woman? Such a gifted singer. We’ve always loved to dance to her songs. Whenever we had some alone time.

With some new vigor, I put the record on and the first tunes of the song play out.

»Love will abide«

»Take things in stride«

»Sounds like good advice«

»But there's no one at my side«

»And time washes clean love's wounds unseen«

»That's what someone told me«

»But I don't know what it means«

»'Cause I've done everything I know«

»To try and make you mine«

»And I think I'm gonna love you«

»For a long long time«

»Caught in my fears«

»Blinking back the tears«

»I can't say you hurt me«

»When you never let me near«

»And I never drew one response from you«

»All the while you fell all over girls you never knew«

»'Cause I've done everything I know«

»To try and make you mine«

»And I think it's gonna hurt me«

»For a long long time«

»Wait for the day you'll go away«

»Knowing that you warned me«

»Of the price, I'd have to pay«

»And life's full of flaws«

»Who knows the cause?«

»Living in the memory of a love that never was«

»'Cause I've done everything I know«

»To try and change your mind«

»And I think I'm gonna miss you«

»For a long long time«

Letting the music and lyrics wash over me. Healing some of the fissures that have opened up. Somehow I feel closer to her with every passing note.

Making me smile even though Addie’s no longer here. But her memory will always stay in my heart, and in the crinkle around my eyes.

Telling the story of how we shared a bond and a love for each other that can’t just be broken. The memories we made? They will never fade.

I fell asleep to the sounds of Linda’s song - Long, Long time.

The Next Day…

The funeral happened in a blur. I don’t even know how. It felt as if I was wading through water.

Not seeing anyone or noticing anything. The boys are with my parents. I asked them if they could watch them.

I don’t want them to be exposed to any gossip. There are some at any funeral.

At least at Addis's funeral I can try and control the narrative a little.

They’re going through enough, they don’t need to hear people talk shit about Addie.

I move through the crowd in the living room and smile politely as I make my way toward the table with drinks.

“I’m not a big fan of people either. I hate making small talk. It’s completely unnecessary. Either say what you have to say or shut up.“

A deep voice rumbles next to me, as I’m trying to pick my poison from the array of alcohol.

I turn around slightly, and my eyes widen in shock at seeing Dr. Ramsey standing next to me.

In an all-black tuxedo, a golden square pocket peaking out.

I gape like a fish with my mouth hanging open.

“Surprised to see me? Yeah me too.“

Ethan replies, already nursing a drink. Though when I look down it looks just like plain water.

I look up and raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Dr. Ramsey I haven’t expected to see you. Least of all at my wife’s funeral.“

I’m still staring at him like I’m seeing him for the first time.

He winces at that.

“Just call me Ethan.“

I exhale.

“Alright, Ethan. But then you should call me Sam. Mr. Dalton sounds…“

A corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

“Old?“

Now it’s my turn to wince.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Though I feel old today.“ My shoulders droop.

He pats my shoulder encouragingly.

“I know what you mean.“

I nod in thanks.

“Thank you for coming. We’re literal strangers, apart from seeing each other at the hospital that one time….I….mean you didn’t have to come out here. But I appreciate it nonetheless.“ I smile at him.

He nods in the direction of the library. Which is closed off to visitors. Family only.

“Of course. So should we escape the crowd? I think I was promised a drink. Shall we?“ He asked me.

I slowly nod in agreement and lead the way to my family's study.

Once inside I softly close the door. I don’t want anyone overhearing a private conversation. And then later gossiping about it. I’ve had enough of those already.

What is it with certain people who find joy in other people’s misery? I will never understand that.

“They’re worse than the interns.“ Ethan comments.

I look at him in confusion.

He smiles.

“You were mumbling about people gossiping,“ he says.

I close my eyes for a brief second and draw in a long breath. Letting my head fall on the leather couch and just letting the cold fabric cool down the fire in my blood.

“I guess I’m just wondering about how it can bring people joy to gossip. At a funeral, no less. We’re here to mourn Addi and say goodbye. Not to spread rumors and talk bad behind someone’s back, who can’t even defend herself anymore.“

Getting frustrated and angry, I’m trying to rain my emotions in, since I don’t want to explode. Then people would have something to talk about.

I shudder. I don’t even want to think about that. The reactions about my outburst would be awful. My parents would never shut up about it.

Ethan’s voice brings me back to the here and now.

“You know, people will always talk. No matter what you do. I work at a hospital, where gossip spreads like wildfire. Trust me. I’m still amazed I haven’t gone and thrown someone out the window.“

He grunts as he leans into another one of the leather armchairs. Unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

I laughed for the first time today, and I’ve got to admit it feels freeing. Not being judged for smiling or laughing, because it’s “inappropriate“. Fuck them.

Addi wouldn’t mind if I laughed today. She’d welcome it.

She’d say ”If someone laughed at some lame joke I made? Yeah, I’d call that a win. Funerals shouldn’t feel like a goodbye. They should feel like a celebration of the person who’s now in a better place.“

She’d be right. So screw them. How do they know how I feel? I grin.

I get up and turn to the glass cabinet in front of me. I get two glasses out and pour each of us a drink.

Ethan takes a sip while I watch his reaction.

“Not bad Dalton. Not bad,“ he takes another sip, this time a bigger one.

“Not bad? I’d hope this was better than not bad. But I’ll take it.“

We sit in silence. But it’s not uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. I lean my head back again and just close my eyes. My glass dangles from my fingers.

Ethan clears his throat slightly.

“So I take it from us drinking at…“

I hear the rustling of fabric, and then “…11 in the morning that we both needed a hit?“

I open my eyes and put my glass down.

“You can say that again. This whole day has been a nightmare.“

I rub my eyes.

“Care to elaborate?“ he asks.

“I don’t know where to start…“ I drift off.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“At the beginning would be good.“ I laugh despite myself.

“Yeah I guess so.“

I draw in a breath, readying myself.

“Addi was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a few months back. I still don’t understand how it could’ve gotten to stage 4 without us not noticing anything. It didn’t make any sense. That’s when the fighting started. She…just wasn’t taking care of herself. I tried cutting back at work. So that I could be there for her and the kids, but all it did was make her angrier. She said she doesn’t need a babysitter. She stopped listening to her doctors. She didn’t spend as much time with the kids anymore. I’m not trying to paint her as a bad mom or person. It’s just…“ I trail off.

“You were worried about her,“ he says matter of factly.

“Yeah. Of course, I was.“

I take another sip, the burning sensation a welcoming feeling.

“What about her parents? I didn’t see them.“ He inquires.

“They weren’t really on speaking terms. They barely visited. Mickey and Mason didn’t like spending much time with them. One time Mason said how they always looked down on them. I mean they’re little kids for god's sake.

He nods in understanding. He’s about to say something, when we both hear the door opening and Robin appears in the doorframe. Looking from me to Ethan he just sighs, shakes his head, closes the door, and takes a seat.

“So what are we drinking to today, Sam?“ He asks no one in particular. And then looks in Ethan's direction.

“You’re new,“ he eyes him suspiciously.

“Nice to meet you too. And I was new 36 years ago. Thank you.“ Ethan mutters sarcastically.

Robin looks at me.

“Where did you find him? Is he your new drinking buddy? I thought that was my job?“ He pouts a little. Which makes him look ridiculous.

“I didn’t find him. He’s a doctor at Edenbrook hospital in Boston,“ I reply to his question.

“You still haven’t answered my question,“ he replies.

Ethan and I share a look. He points between us.

“What’s that look for?“ He asks.

“Ethan was there the day Addi died,“ I explained slowly to Robin.

I can see a mix of emotions in Robin's eyes. With a heavy sigh, he plops himself onto the leather sofa. Crossing his legs.

“I guess that warrants an excuse for a drink, pour me one would you?“ Robin asks and I can’t resist teasing a little bit.

“What am I your servant?“ I say.

Robin laughs at me and says.

“You’d make a nice one,“ and holds his hand out for a drink, but I’ll humor him for today. I get up and get him a drink.

We all hang onto our own thoughts and drink late into the night in my family's study.

I’m glad I have my brother by my side and my new friend or as Robin called him “my drinking buddy“.

I smile as we keep talking and exchanging jabs at each other‘s expense. All in good fun of course.

Life doesn’t seem so bad when you have friends and you’ve won a new drinking buddy over.

The smile is still in place as we go home. I ask Robin and Ethan if they want to stay at my parent's place. There are enough rooms to go around.

They both agree and we all head upstairs to catch some sleep.

Because tomorrow is a fresh start into a better day, with my family by my side.

[mrjocrafter]

here’s a revelation for you, if shinji ikari and homura akemi swapped stories and scenarios they would respectively be totally okay:

if shinji was faced with walpurgisnacht and the time loop he simply wouldn’t have the stubborn dedication/insanity homura does to keep trying it, he would eventually break down and formulate a plan that could actually beat walpurgis (rather than just keep trying to do it himself)

and if homura was the third child her comparative hard-skinnedness would make basically all of shinji’s tragedy checklist items easily skippable, and she would absolutely rebel at a gendo-like figure in a productive way

and this is an interesting look into how tragedies work and all but just imagining this role swap is giving me whiplash, and now i have to inflict it on you

[randomfoggytiger]

Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part IV)

Back on the fic list grind with a part four~!

**Note: Will ghost edit later.**

Loose chronological order below~

@hipsbef0rehands/Millenial_Falcon’s(WBM/WBM)

What do you think Mulder and Scully's best days were, respectively, as children?

He took her onto the navy ship which he he worked, showing her everything from the command room to the engine room. He took her to the tiny bunk beds where the crew slept, the head, and the kitchen. Young Dana looked at the living arrangements in horror.  When he took her to the forward dock of the ship and she could see the vast ocean before her. It was then that she understood her fathers love for the sea and adopted the same passion. It was this day that her love and respect for her father grew immensely, and sometimes where she needs to take a break from life and retreat to her happy place, it is on the dock of that ship. 

Mulder and Scully come to separate but important realizations as starry-eyed children.

4. Mulder shopping for Scully

It had been easy in the past, with women like Diana and Phoebe, he found the most dazzling expensive piece of jewelry and they were happy. The gifts were nice but he never really put much thought into them. That wasn't Scully.

Post IVF-- Mulder wants to pick the perfect gift for Scully's birthday after the IVF and before the impending millennium.

BED SHARING

Scully continued on with he night-time ritual of putting on her pajamas, fluffing up her pillows, and turning down her sheets, when Mulder emerged from the bathroom. He plopped unceremoniously onto the bed disrupting the sheets that she had just perfected. 

Pre-Dating-- Mulder and Scully take their own personal liberties.

20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Heaving herself out of the sunken cushion of the battered chair, she pushed it closer to Mulder’s bedside. Once settled back into the Scully-shaped indent she had managed to create over the last three days, she hesitantly reached out and took Mulder’s hand in hers. Despite his improving condition, fear wound around her heart, squeezing out all hope and replacing it with the heavy weight of despair. He could very easily be ripped from her life once again. 

Deadalive Scully waits (and begs) for Mulder to wake up.

A Nice Hike in the Woods (Ao3)

“Mulder, are we out here looking for aliens?”

“No” he chuckled. He held his arms out. They were surrounded by pine trees in various shapes and sizes. “Well…” he said. “Pick one”.

Scully raised her eyebrows looking up and down, questioning him with her eyes.

“No, Scully, a tree…. pick one”

Pre-IWTB Mulder tries to make their unremarkable house a home.

You're told to write/direct/produce a msr scene of your own doing for one of the revival episodes.......go.

Taking her left hand he raised it to the level of their eyes. Gently, he began to play with the silver band that no longer adorned her neck but once again, her ring finger.

“I gave this to you almost 4 years ago. I never made good on my promise.”

Revival Mulder and Scully are back on the road and back together, giddy and happy and ready for the next step.

Babylon Headcanon

“She is a doctor, Scully.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Well, Mulder, I’ve been a doctor for a lot longer and let me tell you, if you ever do anything like that again, I will have you committed.” 

“Scully… you know I will, eventually” he said with a smile. 

Babylon Mulder cannot, of course, escape a Scully scolding.

You're the only one I trust (archive.org)  

A free-floating assortment of The X-Files fics that are fun to scroll down and read.

mad_martha's (annex-files, x-sites)

Pilot Flipped (Ao3)

In contrast to the corridor outside, the office was brightly lit and austerely neat, its untidiest feature being a pinboard near the door that was covered in newspaper cuttings and photographs.  Even those were arranged in a semblance of order.  There was a desk which, apart from a stack of ageing files,  a set of document trays and a slide projector, seemed to be empty of even normal office equipment; and a set of shelves around the walls filled with orderly rows of books and box files.  Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any office in the Bureau looking so tidy, and he included the Director's inner sanctum in that assessment.

AU-- Pilot Mulder is assigned to Scully.

9 Minutes

 The label inside the blouse collar bore the name of one of Scully's favourite outfitters and as she examined it, noting that the size was also her own, she made a disturbing discovery.  Just inside the neck of the blouse lay a small tangled gold chain and cross.

   Scully's fingers flew to her own neck, where an identical cross, given to her by her mother on her fifteenth birthday, lay against her skin.  What the –

   Her thoughts were suddenly jerked away by a distant scrabbling sound, barely audible above the noise of the machines around her....

   Scully jumped to her feet.  That voice had been familiar.  "Mulder!" she shouted, hearing her voice echo horribly.

   No reply, but there was a series of thumps and grunts, brought up finally by a loud thud. 

AU-- Pilot Scully flashes to the FTF hallway in the 9 minutes she and Mulder lose on the road.

Conversations

There was a pause as she tried to hang onto her anger and hurt, but Scully's innate sense of what was fair wouldn't allow this statement to pass unchallenged.  "I don't know about that, Mulder," she observed ruefully.  "I can think of a couple of occasions when I haven't been particularly fair to you.  More than a couple, if I'm honest."

"I won't argue you with you, but nothing you've done, or imagine you've done, can possibly match how unfair I've been to you over the past five years."

"I don't want to play "my blame's bigger than your blame" either."

Mulder gave a rough chuckle.  "Okay."

Pre-Dating-- Mulder and Scully get nudged and scolded by her family (twice) and Skinner (once) before they finally confront their S6 hurts and confess their love... in a cave-in.

@two-microscopes/twomicroscopes's

Sicktember 2022 Day 12: Psychogenic (Ao3)

He swallowed. “Scully, even if that’s what I’ve done to you–”

“Don’t make this about yourself.”

“Take care of yourself.”

S1 Scully's health keeps breaking down in her overexuberance to keep up; and Mulder, worried, tries to look out for her.

Sicktember 2022 Day 1 (Ao3)

“Chicken soup, I said–I said I’d bring you some,” he spluttered.

He was so desolate, it tugged at her heart.

“Buffalo chicken pizza soup, to be specific, I guess.”

Scully is sick and snappy about Mulder's mother henning, but relents.

Sicktember 2022 - Chapter 4

“Do you just want to get into pajamas now?”

“Mulder,” she sighed, slumping onto one bed, “you know they took our luggage.”

Ah, yes, when the vengeful cultists also smashed their rental car’s windows and slit its tires. They were nothing if not thorough. You had to grant them that.

Scully is running a temperature, and Mulder gets her to a motel as fast as he can with slashed tires and missing luggage.

Sicktember 2022 Day 5 (Ao3)

He leaned closer and drew a deep, argumentative breath against his congestion, instead sneezing dramatically.

“Great, now I have your germs all over me.”

Scully insists on taking Mulder home after he keeps sneezing in the office.

Sicktember 2022 Day 20 (Ao3)

They’d last seen each other at that briefing–was that three days ago already? By then even Mulder had admitted this case might not be an X-file.

No, a serial killer was ravaging across DC and their already non-existent work-life balance.

Buried in their office, Mulder swam in a sea of tissues, too.

Scully skips an autopsy to care for her sick, insomniac partner.

Sicktember 2022 Day 3: Painkillers (Ao3)

In the dim light, he could make out Scully’s eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She rolled her head towards him as he leaned down to touch her matted hair. This was worse than he’d been expecting.

Cancer arc-- Mulder rushes to help Scully, reasoning past her refusal to take painkiller meds.

Sicktember 2022 Day 9: Home Remedy (Ao3)

“Scully? Scully!” Mulder called through their adjoining motel rooms’ door.

Faster than a conspirator to a smoke shop, she rushed out of bed and burst into his room.

Post Redux II Mulder's nose bleeds; and Scully rushes in to assess the injury and calm their panic.

Sicktember 2022 Day 10: Excessive Use of Tissues (Ao3)

Here Scully was, curled up with her Capote novella. Only Jeopardy playing in the background split her attention. Oh, and her sickly partner sniffing on her couch.

“Mulder, for the last time, blow your nose.”

“But, Scully,” he whined from her couch, “I just did.”

Dating-- Mulder is sniffly during a cozy night in.

@hamster-on-fire/fade_into_the_dusk_with_me's For The Sake Of Driving (Ao3)

‘I just. I need to drive, Scully.’

It’s trivial & bizarre & it really is too late....

‘Yeah- um, yeah, alright.’ She nods along to herself, as if he can see her. As if it matters.

Car rides shared between Mulder and Scully through the years.

@sunlightscully's

Travel

There are moments where he makes a fool of himself in airports. He catches glimpses of dark braids, swinging for just a moment before disappearing into the throng of people, and finds that his hands are shaking. She is forever escaping him, forever just a few steps ahead, and his chest tightens with the absolute conviction that it was her, that those braids belonged to her and now he has lost her again in the crowd.

It happens for the first time around Scully. She reaches for her gun and then his hand. He is incredibly grateful, suddenly; he hadn’t realized he’d been afraid that she wouldn’t.

Early seasons Mulder and Scully bond in airports, learning to appreciate each other.

City in the Clouds

He tells her he wants to settle down in the country, grow old where he can see the stars. He tells her she could be a mother, and she thinks for the first time of settling down with him. Fleetingly, she sees herself in the window of a little white farmhouse, wearing an apron. Cooking oatmeal.

She couldn’t stand it.

Scully realizes, years later, that she did want to live Home Mulder's domestic dream.

Kitchen

On the tabletop, her index finger splashes into a small pool of blood. “Come on,” she says, and Mulder leans obediently forward. The cut isn’t bad, or deep – head wounds always look worse than they actually are – but she dabs at it anyway, cleaning the blood away, applying disinfectant. He hisses, tries to move away, but she has one hand pressed to the top of his head, holding him steady.

Scully cleans up Mulder's latest injuries; and the two make a laughing but important blood brother pact.

Food

“There’s cheese on your mouth,” she says, and he tries to see it in the reflexion of the window but the car weaves and she grabs his arm instinctively.

“Mulder! Watch the road, I’ll do it.”

She wipes the corner of his mouth crudely with the scratchy brown napkin.

Mulder realizes he loves Scully while they eat food in the car, scratchy napkins and celestial comparisons serving as evidence for his belief.

Beautitudes

“I can’t accept it,” he says, and she wants to say, “You have to, it’s happening,” and, “There’s nothing anyone can do about it,” but he wouldn’t believe that either.

He makes everything harder.

Somehow, though, she is thankful. He’s fighting for her, and no one fights harder than Mulder.

Scully and Mulder support each other through their shared and separate tragedies.

My_Love_Forever's

The Strength of Their Beliefs

Sometimes he talks. Don't leave. I need you to stay. Keep fighting. I'll make them pay for this. I don't know who did this. I can't let them let you go and I can't make you stay. 

One Breath Mulder desperately clutches Scully's necklace while Scully feels his gaze, even in her coma.

The Realization of Weakness

Hidden in the back of his mind, the thought of not finding the thought of the Scully he lost. He has noticed that things faze her that she never blinked at before. Now she turns away and says she needs a moment when she is faced with the horrors of the world where previously she would have been fired up with rage at the perpetuator and would be shooting down his theories with facts. That is one of the things he missed most when she was taken for that long time; he would say "I think you have a vampire problem here" and pause, expecting her to take a deep breath and start listing all the reasons why that can't be after her exasperated "Mulder."

Irresistible Mulder wants to help support or heal Scully, hoping that, somehow, he is.

Waiting, in Reverse Order

For once, in a change of pace, she waits at his bedside. They have changed places, one sleeps on the bed and the other keeps a vigil in the uncomfortable chair at the bedside. Last time she was the one in the bed and he was waiting but now they have changed. She saved his life and waits at his bedside, hoping that her last memory of him is not the one where he ditches her to keep her safe.

End Game Scully waits in the hospital instead of Mulder, for once.

Viridian5's

Blowing Smoke

"Things are tough all over," I replied in my best hard-boiled voice.

He smiled darkly. "A change is gonna come..."

"Yeah?"

"You may not see me again. I think I'll be getting a promotion soon. I only had to stab a few backs to capture it."

S2 thug observes Krycek on a break.

Haunted

//As the roar and keening whistle grew louder, I stood up and walked into the trough between the rails. With an increasing feeling of clarity and peace, I turned to face my ride. When I threw the empty bottle against the rails, I couldn't help smiling at the sharp, crashing sound it made as it shattered. It sounded final. The approaching train looked liked a darker, moving cutout in the night. Except for the flashing lights.

//The lights.

//I couldn't move. Terror and a bone-deep feeling of loss gripped me along with paralysis as the flickering lights froze me in place. I couldn't see through the glare, and I heard someone screaming, and I could swear it was a girl, and she was screaming words, but I couldn't make them out, even as I sensed that she yelled the same word over and over again, and I was helpless and couldn't move again...

//NOT LIKE THIS! FIGHT! MOVE!

Mulder is transported to the memories of his childhood suicidal ideations while investigating a ghost and train tracks casefile.

Dead to the World

He looked so pale and still lying there. He had something odd, something that had left bruises and abrasions, wrapped tightly around his neck. Two more lines of that something enveloped his wrists. When she felt his neck to search for a pulse her fingers brushed it and quickly shied away. It was warm, moist, and alive. The other end of each of the lines trailed off into the darkness.

But he still lived. She took a scalpel from her coat pocket and prepared to cut him loose.

Mulder's eyes slowly opened, as if consciousness didn't come easily. She watched so many emotions flicker through them before he settled on blankness.

S5 Mulder willingly lets a monster parading as Samantha kill him; and Scully watches, horrified at his suicidal tendencies.

Circle - Chapter 1

It’d be interesting to see what Alex’s Consortium would be like. Maybe no better. Maybe his would even be worse.

But he was the one paying me.

AU-- Cashier rises through the Consortium ranks with the help of Krycek... only to face him again, years later, in a darker context.

Unprotected

"You have a neck brace on. You could have been killed. It was a stupid thing to do."

Mulder couldn't tell if he felt rage or despair. It teetered from one side to the next from second to second. He told myself that she was just upset that he'd ditched her and injured himself again, but--

He remembered why he never confessed anything to her or anyone if he could avoid it.

An injured Mulder feels alone after a careless comment from Scully.

7-Eleven Nightmares at 3 a.m.

Mulder was surprised his whole head didn't get devoured in his last yawn, which felt like it had split his face. //If I were a cartoon character...//

An insomniac Mulder is bored out of his mind... then starts to question his sanity after spotting a cup of very black, very oily diner coffee.

Starbuck_Lover's Under The Milky Way - Chapter 1

“You insisted I come with you in the middle of the night, you won’t tell me where we’re going, and you’re being incredibly vague,” she gestured wildly, “Excuse me for noticing a pattern.”

“You’ll love it,” he beamed at her, “I promise.”

Mulder wakes Scully up, taking her to a field to watch the stars.

Deb Longley's

Whistlewood - Chapter 1

I take a little longer than I should to turn back around, but the room behind me has transformed: it is lit softly, by candles fixed on each side of the fireplace, casting amber halos on the walls, and the fireplace now has a fire, which has burned down to nothing but softly smoldering ashes....

I swing back in his direction. He hasn't budged. Unexpectedly, he moves past me into the room, startling me into a yelp which he doesn't seem to hear.

An unconscious Mulder witnesses the vision of a dead man sledgehammer his family.

The Fear Place

I wonder what other people see when they look at him; the man is beautiful with his wild, windblown dark hair, and eyes, and tall, lean frame. A few of them are audacious enough to look him up and down, but they usually stop when they get to his eyes. He's thirty-eight, but he has the eyes of an old soul. He sees deep, and through, observing things that others overlook. He looks at smiles and perceives the lies hiding behind them. He sees the truth.

Mulder's messed-up knee and mother-son dynamic drives him to call Scully on Thanksgiving for reinforcements. Tena finally relents, if only a little.

story_monger's Predictable

He’s predictable, and he knows that.

Want to see the Mulder guy do some flips? Stick him in front of a missing child’s report; make it a little girl with dark hair. Watch him run.

He feels sick....

They should know that there’s a girl missing, and she has dark hair, and she’s supposed to turn ten in a week.

Mulder loathes his own reactions to cases similar to Samantha's; and Scully helps him to calm and get some sleep.

enigmaticblue's

True Hearts

He’s told Scully that the truth will set them both free, but he feels like a hypocrite for saying it. Mulder believes in the truth, he trusts in its power, and yet he’s hiding the truth from his partner.

Mulder has half-convinced himself that it’s not important, that they have to get through this crisis first. He owes Scully the truth, but he can’t bring himself to add to her burden.

Post Memento Mori Mulder feels guilt over not telling Scully about her ova.

Let Them Eat Cake

Scully peruses the plate of donuts at the end of the table, irritated when she realizes that cake donuts are all that’s left. She feels someone lean in close behind her, and an arm snakes around to snag one of the chocolate-frosted ones with multi-colored sprinkles.

She glances over her shoulder to see Mulder’s grin. “You didn’t want that one, did you, Scully?”

She resists rolling her eyes through a strong effort of will. “I don’t like cake donuts, Mulder.”

“Cake donuts are the best kind,” Mulder protests, taking a big bite, catching the crumbs with his tongue.

S6 Mulder and Scully debate donuts at a team-building conference.

Under the Mistletoe

“Hm?” He adjusted his glasses as he looked up at her.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“About what?”

“You know about what.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “No, I don’t know. What did I do?”

Scully pointed to the mistletoe, waiting for him to confess, or at least smirk. Instead, his face remained completely innocent—although that didn’t mean much, since this was Mulder.

Pre-Dating-- Scully notices but avoids the mistletoe. Mulder does not.

Reflections

His old man had missed Vietnam, but Doggett had an uncle who’d joined up. He’d heard a few stories, most while on leave after boot camp. Uncle Duane seemed to think they shared a connection that hadn’t been there before, and he talked about steamy nights that were filled with gunfire and the smell of reefer.

Later, much later, when he’d been given an honorable discharge after Beirut, Uncle Duane had talked about the horror of watching your friends get limbs blown off, of hands stained with the blood of innocents.

Pre-This Is Not Happening Skinner shares the details of the Unrequited case with Doggett. Both wonder what was and wasn't worth it.

A Strong Shoulder

The knock on the door came as a surprise around ten, and Scully heaved herself up off the couch, one hand on her back for support. A quick glance through the peephole had her hurrying to open the door.

Mulder stood there, a crooked grin on his face, his eyes a little lost, a little vulnerable. “Hey.”

Post Three Words Mulder slowly drifts in, glad Scully wants him to stay even if he's handling reentry badly.

All I Ever Get For Christmas Is Blue

Scully gave thanks that William was such a good-natured baby; he stirred once as she bundled him up, opening his eyes sleepily, then immediately closed them again once he was secure in his carrier. Keys in hand, she set the car seat down in the hallway to lock the door behind her, then froze as she heard footsteps.

How was it that she could recognize his walk after he’d been gone for months? How was it that she could sense him coming even though she had no expectation of his arrival?

AU-- S9 Mulder returns to Scully and William for Christmas; but he leaves again, though both wishes he could stay.

@cauldronoflove/thegoodthebadandthenerdy's

Close Your Eyes, Be Patient

He stood in his forlorness like it was a new winter coat. It was draped across the downward curve of his shoulders, tugging impishly at his struggling-to-remain-steady mouth. It wasn't that she'd never seen him like this - as much as he tried to hide it, she knew there were certain cases that kept him awake long into the night, same as her - it was just that she'd never seen it so set in.

Pre-Dating-- Scully makes a calculated effort to carefully disentangle Mulder from his mind.

The Prairie State Debate

Dinner twisted away like dandelion wishes, table plated in hard plastic cups and warm to the touch dishes. The tea was syrupy sweet, made by the hand of a true Southern child despite their current place on the map, and the food sported heavy gravys and savory score marks - a combination that left Scully, two servings and only yeses for 'would you like a refill?' Scully, ready to collapse into the gossamer sheets of her bed until tomorrow.

But when she felt fingers on the rise of her shoulder, heard an absence of footsteps beside her, glanced up at a dazzling marquee, she lead the way in to the theater. She was tired, yes, but she had been more so, no doubt would be same time next week, and these moments like monthly allowances were something she needed as much as anything.

Dating-- Scully remembers their first not-date.

••• - •- -•--

It's dark out, moonlit sky extrapolating between the slats of still open blinds, but he gets the sense that it's not the same night he remembers falling asleep in. The only other light is a small lamp somewhere above him, casting low light that does nothing for his pale, thin skin. He looks fragile, even from his own estimates - battered and bruised and made from poorly picked and sewn together parts.

He can't help but think he doesn't deserve the smile he finds waiting for him, not in this state. That doesn't stop her though....

Scully saves a drugged up, nearly dead Mulder.

All I Need's a Fraction of Your Happy Heart

Scully ducked her head into the street, looking both ways before bustling across the crosswalk, Mulder following a single footstep behind. To onlookers, their height difference was exasperated as they hitched their arms up and jogged quickly through the sounds of honking traffic, but it never seemed to cross their minds. When they picked back up on the sidewalk, he ducked his head and leaned forward, just enough so she could hear him, just enough so she could let a laugh kick up her throat.

AU-- Scully, giddy and freshly married on a case, reflects on the events that led to their mutual proposal, and courthouse wedding.

Gravity, Oh Gravity

because the second thing he sees is scully. scully in a shirt he's had to have seen her in a thousand times, the one he thinks is green, but isn't sure because his eyes have always betrayed him. his eyes have to be betraying him. scully and-

and         and                  and

(and his heart stops beating.)

it thunders back to life as he stumbles forward, legs feeling like they've been chopped from his body and reattached in the wrong direction. 

AU-- This Is Not Happening Mulder wakes on the ground to the stars and Scully's face. Even Skinner cries.

Looking Back Over My Shoulder (I See it Clear as Day)

There are few people that Mulder is okay with calling him Fox. Admittedly, they're all named Scully....

Her sister isn't, though. 

Revival Mulder and Scully chuckle over Melissa's ghost's audacity to chew out her sister's partner.

@youweremytouchstone's First time she winked at him!

He looks back over at the door. As usual, nobody down her except for him this early in the morning. He turns his attention to the cases piling up on his desk.

And then in a flash, she’s at his desk, looking at him like she’s been there the last hour.

Dating-- Scully enjoys teasing Mulder and pretending it never happened.

@pukajen's (Ao3, LJ) Sleep Cycle

Even all these years later, it feels like a stolen moment to watch him sleep peacefully; undrugged, unconcussed, in their bed, the one they've shared for years. So many times in the past she's kept vigil over his hospital bed, watching him sleep, worried he'd never wake up.

Revival Scully still loves watching Mulder sleep.

@dinascully/unsedentary's Miles Adrift

She said something about being blinded by someone’s brights, losing control, ending up in the ditch, and he tries not to think about whether or not this was an accident. He’s already called Skinner.

He waits a few minutes before trying to start the car again. If he’s lucky, they’ll be on their way and home before Scully wakes up. But the car has other plans – it coughs pitifully, whines, and refuses to go anywhere.

Breakup-- Scully and Mulder reconnect after a car accident. His car breaks down, forcing them to have a tearful conversation.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[logray]

OBI-WAN KENOBI: PART IV

[vvatchword]

Chapter 1: Take the Head

You remember Pa teaching you how to pop the head off of a chicken. You weren’t very big yet, maybe five. You had always been taught to treat the animals with respect, so it jarred you to yank the chicken up by the throat. The chicken flapped and kicked; the golden eye latched on yours, a panicked pinpoint.

You couldn’t break her neck. You tried and you tried but you just rubbed her throat in a circle over and over like you were trying to give her an Indian burn. She frantically scratched your arm up and down, her beak gaping in a terrified pant. You know now that you could have done it easily—a chicken’s spine is little more resistant than a dry stick or a pencil—but that was just the problem: she wasn’t either of those things.

Then Pa took her from you, wrapped his fist around the throat, and popped the head clean off. He held the head out to you. The eyes had closed. The lids were soft and pink. Her face was peaceful. Her body still kicked.

“See?” he said. “Easy. She didn’t feel a thing.”

There was blood on Pa’s hands. When he pointed out the cockerel for you to try again, there was blood on your hands, too.

** You aren’t much of a conversationalist. You’ve gone on dates where you barely spoke a word. Your coworkers don’t know your name. You work in a factory line, screwing in one piece at a time. Dull work, monotonous work. Lets your brain run on its own time at its own pace.

You like to remember lists during such times. Pa taught you about something called a “mind palace,” a detailed map you build in your mind and store thoughts inside of. Somehow recall is easier when you can imagine them in a physical space. You store your shopping lists there. You also store guns—lists about makes, models, ammunition.

Guns have been a special interest of yours since childhood. You would save pages out of the Sears catalog as a child and tape them on the wall so you saw them when you woke up. You were fascinated how they went together and would draw them in their disparate parts before drawing them put together again. You liked drawing them from all different angles just to admire the geometry. You checked out books on guns from the library so often that the librarian started setting aside new offerings for you. You had never been able to own guns of your own, but you practiced with your father’s Mark I Sturm Ruger and the old .22. You could ping prairie dogs like a pro.

You like to think that eventually, you’ll buy one of your own. You know just the model—the BAR, or Browning Automatic Rifle—full-aut, carried by Bonnie and Clyde, running second-fiddle to the M1 Garand throughout World War II. When you repeat the gun list, you think “BAR” before any of the others; it is the highest honor you can bestow.

You like monotony for the same reason you like lists. There’s something relaxing about rhythms. It’s like music, like dance. You can’t dance, of course—you never learned. You don’t own a record player, either—you don’t spend money on frivolous things. The Depression is still a heavy black cloud in the back of your mind. You lived on a farm, so your belly never went empty, but you also didn’t grow up wearing shoes.

You are 28. Or is it 29? It’s been a while since you’ve thought about your birthday. It’s on July 3. “Our independence baby,” someone said. It may have been Pa, but you don’t remember exactly; you were very small. You do remember Ma replying that it was one day off and they weren’t in America anyway, so it didn’t count. You were disappointed for some reason; sure, you know it doesn’t make a difference either way, but it would be nice to have something special that was just your own. Oh, Ma and Pa told you you were going to do great things someday—that’s something you could believe when you were, say, eight. But then you had to make your way in the world and all the world offered was a factory line, a small dark room, and the weather. It’s hard to believe in anything magnificent at the bottom of a hole.

**

You live in sparsely-furnished rooms in cheap apartments near the ocean. On weekdays, you make your bed, eat breakfast (eggs, toast, coffee with cream), shave, dress, go to work (screw, screw, screw), come home and turn on the radio (evening news, then whatever entertainment strikes your fancy, usually action and adventure programs), drink a beer while completing the evening ablutions (wash dishes, pack lunch for tomorrow, shower, set alarm clock, read evening edition in bed until you get tired).

Sometimes you go to your neighbor’s to watch their television in exchange for a beer; you sit side by side and quietly drink as Lucy gambols and the laugh track rolls. On Saturdays, you go shopping for the household essentials and stand in lines while the grocer bags produce and the butcher cuts your lunch meat.

If it’s nice enough, you walk down to the ocean to stretch your legs. It’s not a pretty place by any means; a sodden gray beach where colorless rushes thrust insistent heads and sun-bleached shells lie. In winter, it’s even more dreary; the Atlantic is a sullen gray sweep and the nasty cold steals your breath. It’s the kind of cold that makes you feel wet and heavy even if you haven’t touched water.

You have never felt as though the sea is a nice place; you distinctly remember deciding this back when you first entered the town. Even in the summer, when the water is glassy green and the beach crowded with tourists, you feel as though the sea is a vast and apathetic monster—apocalyptic in size, in scale, in potential. Apocalyptic: you don’t go to church, but that’s the word that comes to you. The sea feels as though it should be the focus of worship, the kind of thing you sacrifice to; you’ve never held much by spiritual claptrap, but you will grant one place worthy of godhood.

You did not grow up near the sea. You grew up in Kansas, a land so flat you used to roll up papers like spyglasses and try to see Japan. You moved to the coast of New Jersey because you’d wanted to see the ocean. No—no, it may well have been because of the factory job. They do pay well and they probably printed something in the help ads. A family friend in New York often sends newspaper clippings with his letters just to be of service. Yes, that would make a great deal more sense: “I heard Jack is looking for a job,” he’d say. “Here are some local ones that are right up his alley.”

Yes, now that you think about it, that’s exactly what happened. The sea was a bonus—until you saw it. But how were you to know what the sea was really like until you went there? It’s too bad someone couldn’t have told you.

Sometimes you think you should move away, but learning new routines is such a pain that you just put up with it. Someday you’ll probably get tired enough to leave. The way the cold weaponizes itself with humidity tires you down to your bones.

You know, you haven’t thought of the family friend in a while. What was his name again? Joe? Jim? John? One of those common names. You’ll have to check your address book. It’s been a while since you’ve heard from him. You should write sometime to make sure he’s all right.

For that matter, you haven’t heard from your parents. When did they last write? Hell! Maybe it’s your turn to write. Yes, it’s your turn to write for certain; that would explain why you haven’t received any letters recently. You do tend to forget minutiae with the humdrum flow of everyday life. Your parents are older now; you know better than to leave them without a word every now and then. Your mother must be worried sick.

You decide to purchase some stationery and stamps that weekend, but you forget until the invitation comes, and by that time, it’s far too late. You didn’t know that then, of course. You didn’t know much of anything, if you have to be honest.

UPRISING: BLACK SCRAPBOOK HUB

[brody75]

Obi-Wan Kenobi -  Part IV