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the-dragongirl · 4 years ago

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Hello tumblr. I have returned from a long period of inactivity, because I must bring the good word to the corner of the Star Wars fandom that used to be my main fannish home: there is a new era of Star Wars canon that was made just for our taste. It is called the High Republic.

WHAT IS THE HIGH REPUBLIC?

The High Republic is an giant multi-media project being carried out by the Lucasfilm story group to create a brand new era of Star Wars canon. It is set a few hundred years before the prequel era (so, a long time after the Old Republic era), in a period of peace and stability within the Republic. It currently includes several English language adult novels, a YA novel, two serialized comics, a manga, some short stories, and some short video blurbs published on facebook and youtube. A TV show for Disney+ has also been announced, but is a few years off. This project is unique in Star Wars, in that all of the different parts are being written together by one writing team, and are coordinated to tell a cohesive story. Also, what has been announced is just the beginning – they have stated that there will be three different sections of the High Republic, and everything we have had announced so far is just part one. As a note: this is an era for which there was NO pre-existing canon in Legends, so it is totally new territory.

OKAY, THAT’S NICE, BUT WHY SHOULD I BOTHER TO CHECK IT OUT?

There are SO many reasons why the High Republic is worth your time to explore. I will try to outline some of them here below the cut (without any significant spoilers).

IT IS A LOVE LETTER TO THE JEDI

This is the era for everyone who loves the Jedi and wants to understand how they got to the point they did in the prequel era. It shows Jedi at their best: saving people, working together, being completely in tune with the Force (in so many beautiful and original ways), demonstrating creativity and flexibility and being rewarded for it, actually thinking through the ethics of things like the mind trick, and DEALING with their emotions rather than repressing them. It shows us how the rigid Jedi culture was saw in the prequels was a corruption of something that was originally healthy and uplifting. Jedi in this era are allowed to be flawed, and to grow, and have a community that supports them in doing so. This is the Jedi culture so many of us created as fix it fic for the prequel era, but made canon.

IT IS AN ERA OF HOPE

There are some serious problems in the High Republic Era. Without spoilers, the era opens with a terrible humanitarian crisis, laid over the Republic equivalent of the New Deal from US history. We see a lot of examples of people doing their best to be good to each other, and working for a more just and kind galaxy. They acknowledge that things are not perfect, but people from many different backgrounds (Jedi, politicians, farmers, pilots, business people) work together to try and make things better. I don’t know about you all, but with the darkness we see in the world today, I NEED some of that optimism in my escapist media. The High Republic provides that.

IT WILL GIVE YOU FEELINGS

The existing material so far is structured to really let you emotionally invest in the characters and their struggles. Unlike with many eras of Star Wars canon, characterization is not sacrificed for the sake of plot (though never fear, there is PLENTY of plot). That means there is huge scope for empathy. I’m not going to lie; I cried within the first three chapters of Light of the Jedi, as did several other people I know. It is POIGNANT in a way that feels truly genuine.

IT IS FUN

The writing team understands that, in the end, Star Wars is space fantasy. If your space fantasy is nothing but serious, gritty grimdark, it becomes pretentious and unbearable. So, for all that there is some heavy content in the High Republic (VERY heavy content – the Nihil should really have their own content warning), it has many moments of levity that keep it from taking itself too seriously. For example, the High Republic made Jedi bodice rippers canon. Also, characters like Geode exist (yes, that rock there is a CHARACTER). The result is something which honors the spirit of Star Wars, and keeps you engaged without being tedious or ridiculously depressing.

THE WRITING TEAM HAS DIVERSE PERSPECTIVES

The main writing team consists of five people: Justina Ireland, Claudia Gray, Charles Soule, Daniel José Older, and Cavan Scott. You will note that includes two people of color, two women, and one out Queer person (in fact, one of the writers is all three of those things). This is a far cry from the white-cis-straight-man-dominated writing teams we have seen in the past. And when they bring in other people to the project, they make a point of looking for perspectives that aren’t represented on their team – for example, the manga is being co-written between Justina Ireland and Japanese writer Shima Shinya, and Ireland has stated in interviews that Shinya is taking the lead on the writing.

IT VALUES MEANINGFUL REPRESENTATION

That diverse writing team means a cast that looks WAY more like the real world than any other era of Star Wars we’ve seen, in terms of representation. There are multiple characters of color, who are both heroes and central to the story. There are at least five canonical queer characters to date (a MLM couple, an Ace character, and two NB character). [EDIT: Thank you @legok9 for letting me know about the NB characters]. Among binary gendered characters, there is a very even balance of men and women. The writing team has also stated that they will be incorporating more representation of disability in the works to come. And the story is so much better for it – representation is included here BECAUSE it makes for more creative, believable, and original storytelling.

IT IS ACCESSIBLE

Because of the multiple formats, and the fact that it doesn’t rely on you knowing any prior lore, the High Republic offers many avenues to engage for people with all kinds of needs. Know nothing about Star Wars canon and feel intimidated about catching up? The canon is all new in this era anyway, so you’re fine. Can’t handle flashing lights? No problem – the little bit of video content that exists is totally free from the strobing effects that caused seizure and sensory issues. Need purely audio content? You can still have a full experience of the High Republic with the gorgeously sound-scaped audiobooks. Don’t have the attention span for books or long movies? Then the comics are your friend.

THERE IS SOMETHING FOR ALL

Between the books aimed towards adults and teens (and their respective audiobooks), the kids books, the comics, the manga, the short stories, AND the eventual TV show on Disney+, there is going to be content in the High Republic that suits most audiences. And that is just what has been announced so far – there is still more to come for phases II and III. This isn’t Star Wars written towards one group or demographic – it is Star Wars for everyone.

DID I MENTION THE FANCY JEDI UNIFORMS?

Because cosplayers and fanartists? This is the era for you. We are getting Jedi in silks with elaborate gold embroidery. Jedi with jewelry other decorative elements. Even the practical field uniforms have tooled and embossed leather. If you want to draw or make Jedi that have some of that that sweet LoTR-esque high fantasy aesthetic, the High Republic has your back. (Not going to lie – I am ALREADY imagining the time travel AUs. Put Obi-Wan in fancy clothes!)

OKAY, YOU’VE SOLD ME. WHERE SHOULD I START?

I strongly recommend everyone looking to get into the High Republic (who is old enough to be on Tumblr) start with Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule. I alternated between the physical book and the audio book, and found it delightful in both formats. After that, you have a lot of options. You can read or listen to the audio book of the YA novel A Test of Courage by Justina Ireland. You can check out the currently running Star Wars: The High Republic comic from Marvel, or the Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures comic from IDW. Or you can skip straight to Into the Dark by Claudia Gray. Honestly, there is no wrong order to try out most of the High Republic.

IN CONLUSION

The High Republic is Star Wars written for people who DON’T want Star Wars to be a good ‘ol boys club for salty white dudes who don’t want to see anything but more of Luke Skywalker. It offers broad representation, and optimistic narrative, and whole bunch of awesome Jedi content. If you are someone who fell in love with Jedi in the prequel era, the High Republic will give you more of what you loved. And if you are totally new to Star Wars? The High Republic is here for you too.

So, go check it. And then go write fic for it (please, there are only, like, 14 fics on AO3, I am dying).

#star wars #the high republic #jedi #long post #recs #book recs #representation #seriously I cannot recommend this highly enough #everything about the high republic is so very tailored to what I love about star wars in general and Jedi specifically #also...sorry I had been absent here #I swear I still love you all #I just have limited interaction spoons these days and spend most of them on costuming stuff

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thealmightyemprex · 3 years ago

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March of the 40's :The Devil and Daniel Webster

So the film has multiple titles ,the main ones being its original release title All That Money Can Buy and the title it is called on home media Devil and Daniel Webster .Apparently this is a marketing thing as they felt they had to change the title to All that Money Can Buy to appeal to the American south as movies that had the Devil in the title didnt do well.More people know it now as Devil and Daniel Wbster now and frankly that is a better title ,so I am using that one

This 1941 film tells the tale of Jabez Stone(James Craig) a farmer who sells his soul to Mr Scratch AKA The Devil (Walter Huston ) for wealth,but in 7 years Scratch will collect.

This was a very good movie,and I reccomend it to fantasy fans ,who especially love supernatural tales .The film looks great ,with some really clever lighting work .Also not a lot of special effects but very well done ones .I love that the story feels like an old fable ,with details like the souls of the damned become moths .Acting is all good with highlights for me are Jane Darwell as the wise mother , Simone Simone as the temptress nanny , John Qualen as a damned loan shark and Edward Arnold as the heroic Daniel Webster ,the lawyer who wants to save Jabez's soul .However the best part of the film is Walter Huston as Scratch,one of the best Devils put to screen .Huston gives the Devil a folksy charm ,but also an unmistakable mischievousness to him ,and also he is very creepy while still being entertaining

I have no negatives,but I do have nitpicks.James Craig and Anne Shirley are decent leads ,but they are overshadowed by the supporting cast and especially by Huston .Also the middle of the film drags a bit

Overall though this is a classic that I reccomend highly to everyone ,especially for the amazing performance of Walter Huston

@ariel-seagull-wings @the-blue-fairie @amalthea9 @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @lord-antihero @marquisedemasque @filmcityworld1 @princesssarisa

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piristephes · 4 years ago

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Hellenic Divination - Ornithomancy

Khairete, friends!

By request of a lovely friend of mine (Hey, Adri) I decided to write down what I know of divination. However, I must say that the pagan Tumblr community has no shortage of content on the arts of predicting the future! You can find plenty awesome posts about the art of reading cards (cartomancy) or even bone-throwing techniques that will give you omens that you’ve been seeking.

Regardless of wheter you are a hellenic polytheist or not, this post may suit your needs of a very particular kind of divination: Ornithomancy - the art of divination that studies omens delivered by birds.

But before we get to why in the name of Apollon would you like to watch birds flying to predict if that job interview will turn out ok as you’re trying to survive admist a deadly plague ravaging the entire planet, I feel like we need to define why Ornithomancy (called Augury by the romans) is a thing in the first place.

The seer, Calchas, about to sacrifice Iphigenia to the goddess Artemis, who saves her and replaces the girl with a deer to be sacrificed in her place.

For starters, ornithomancy is quite the fancy word - ornithos (bird) and mantis (seer) - but it serves its purpose: This divination art is practiced by watching birds fly in the search of various omens regarding your inquire. One of the most well known examples of a ornithoskopos (literally bird interpreter) is the mythic seer Calchas from the Illiad, who was regarded as the best in the art, his abilities so praised that it is said that he could tell past, present and future just by watching the omens of the Gods admist the birds.

But why birds? One may ask.

Sarah Iles Johnston’s Ancient Greek Divination tell us that birds inhabit both the earthly domain and the heavenly domain, being capable of delivering omens from the Gods to us. As a matter of fact in Hellenic Polytheism plenty Gods have sacred animals which you really would like to look into if you’re asking for some sort of sign from the Theoi. Crows for Apollon, certain species of owls to Athena, others to Hades, roosters and vultures for Ares...That list goes on and on.

Reading unusual signs is a valid way to interpret signs of the Gods, really. In a A Companion to Greek Religion by Daniel Ogden there’s quite the list of the complex divinatory ways of Ancient Greece. But, to list a few, one could watch out for signs in nature, natural phenomena, body signs and animal behaviour. Watching birds was but one of the many fields of specialization a mantis would seek out in order to predict the future.

Some authors, like Plutarch in On The Cleverness of Animals, tell us that the Gods sometimes warn us through the usage of birds, sending signs in our way of various meaning through the flight of birds. Alexandra Nikaios, a brazilian hellenic polytheist of the RHB - Brazilian Hellenic Reconstructionism tell us that an inscription of a sanctuary of Artemis in Ephesus (current Turkey) from the 5th or 6th century BCE offer details on how to read the bird omens, just as many other sources like Hesiod on Works and Days, advising a farmer to “judge the birds” before taking an important decision.

So how does one do it?

Usually a mantis could ask the Gods, pray for Zeus for some signs or spontaneously spot an unusual bird activity. Sometimes the seers would prefer to sit in a proper and sacred place to do it, others would do it anywhere. The various sources here listed will vary in some accounts, but most agree in some very valid points like:

Coming from the right side. - Good omen. Coming from the left side. - Bad omen.

The Greeks would look to the north to seek for answers, where as the Romans would look to the South.

Coming in your way - Good sign. Coming from behind you - Bad sign.

All of the above could change depending on the bird or the question you’re asking. Now take into account some valid questions when going through an ornithomantic session.

Is the bird associated with some particular deity?

How commonly do I see this bird around?

How was the bird behaving? Was it flying, roosting or just jumping around?

Was it only one bird or an entire flock?

What was the colour of the birds I observed?

Does this bird mean something in particular to me or to my culture?

If I was that bird, doing what it was doing, what does that mean to me?

Those questions may enlighten you on what kind of omens you’re receiving, it differs from person to person, really. A hummingbird would be a lovely sight for someone, where as here in the brazilian northeastern state of Sergipe if one enters your home three times in a row it could mean incoming death - possibly by a heart attack.

This is a highly personal kind of divination with several things to take into account but I really like it. The Gods delivered some of the most dramatic signs to me in the form birds flying around or doing unusual things. The first time I received a sign it was night, I was by the lagoon and my heart was aching with some decisions that I took regarding a toxic friend of mine - so I prayed to Athena and Apollon, asking for some sort of sign. And then boom, an owl flied over me towards the north and screeching very loudly into the gloomy night.

In that moment I felt the confirmation that I was doing the right thing on not talking to this friend anymore! Right now, however, I could interpret it differently: It was a barn owl, or a Rasga-Mortalha (Pall-tearer, quite an ominous name) as we call it here in Brazil. Taking into account what followed during such year I could say it meant “Yeah you’re taking a wise decision but by no means expect this to be an easy route”

So, yeah, it can be quite the dramatic way of predicting the future.

But historically speaking it’s been such a huge part of divinatory history! It’s a very strong method of looking into the will of the Gods and communicating with Them.

If you have any more additions, feel free to enrich this post with even more information. May Apollon bless you with wisdom when trying to do divination and good luck!

Sources used: Ornitomancia (by Alexandra Nikaios); Ancient Greek Divination by Sarah Iles Johnston; The Seer in Ancient Greece by Flower Michael; Works and Days by Hesiod; A Companion to Greek Religion by Daniel Ogden; On The Cleverness of Animals by Plutarch.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenismos #divination #ornithomancy #apollon #apollo

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introvertguide · 4 years ago

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Star Wars (1977); AFI #13

In honor of May 4th and the original movie that started it all, the group reviewed Star Wars (1977). Nominated for 10 Academy Awards and winning 6 with one extra special achievement award for Sound, this is perhaps the most highly decorated science fiction movie of all time. The special effects and the music were especially moving making the Star Wars experience something amazing to behold. I was lucky enough to see one of the re-releases in the theatre back in the mid 80s. In fact, I might well have seen the film 100 times over my life. The music might be the most well known soundtrack globally. With inflation, this is the 4th highest grossing film of all time. It is truly a fantastic work and I would like to now spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it. Let me start with the usual:

SPOILER WARNING!!! I DON'T THINK THERE ARE MANY WHO HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM, BUT FOR THOSE FEW THAT DON'T KNOW, I AM GOING TO RUIN THE PLOT!!! STOP NOW AND GO WATCH IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!!!

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Amid a galactic civil war, Rebel Alliance spies have stolen plans to the Galactic Empire's Death Star, a massive space station capable of destroying an entire planet. Imperial Senator Princess Leia of Alderaan (Carrie Fisher), secretly one of the Rebellion's leaders, has obtained its schematics (this entire effort was originally a throwaway concept but was completely fleshed out in Rogue One almost 40 years later) , but her starship is intercepted by an Imperial Star Destroyer under the command of the ruthless Darth Vader (acted by David Prowse and voiced by James Earl Jones). The movie is just starting and the odds against the rebels are shown by the scale of the two ships. Before she is captured, Leia hides the plans in the memory of an astromech droid called R2-D2 (Kenny Baker), who flees in an escape pod to the desert planet Tatooine accompanied by protocol droid C-3PO (Anthony Daniels).

The droids are captured by Jawa traders (little shiny eyed beings who are now meme legends), who sell them to moisture farmers Owen and Beru Lars and their nephew Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill). While Luke is cleaning R2-D2, part of a holographic recording of Leia starts playing a message for Obi-Wan Kenobi where she requests his help ("Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!"). Later, after Luke finds R2-D2 missing, he is attacked by scavenging Sand People while searching for him, but is rescued by elderly hermit "Old Ben" Kenobi (Sir Alec Guinness), an acquaintance of Luke's, who reveals that "Obi-Wan" is his true name. Obi-Wan tells Luke of his days as one of the Jedi Knights, the former peacekeepers of the Galactic Republic who drew mystical abilities from a metaphysical energy field known as "the Force", but were ultimately hunted to near-extinction by the Empire. Luke learns that his father fought alongside Obi-Wan as a Jedi Knight during the Clone Wars (another throwaway concept that was eventually fleshed out) until Vader, Obi-Wan's former pupil, turned to the dark side of the Force and murdered him. Obi-Wan presents Luke with his father's old lightsaber, the signature weapon of Jedi Knights. The connection between Darth Vader and Luke's father is explored in depth during the next eight films.

R2-D2 plays Leia's full message, in which she begs Obi-Wan to take the Death Star plans to her home planet of Alderaan and give them to her father, a fellow veteran, for analysis. Although Luke initially declines Obi-Wan's offer to accompany him to Alderaan and learn the ways of the Force, he is left with no choice after discovering that Imperial stormtroopers have killed his aunt and uncle and destroyed their farm in their search for the droids (cue the Academy and Grammy Award winning theme music composed by John Williams). Traveling to a cantina in Mos Eisley to search for transport, Luke and Obi-Wan hire Han Solo (Harrison Ford), a smuggler with a price on his head due to his debt to local mobster Jabba the Hutt. Pursued by stormtroopers, Obi-Wan, Luke, R2-D2 and C-3PO flee Tatooine with Han and his Wookiee co-pilot Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) on their ship the Millennium Falcon. As they reach the planet's orbit, two Star Destroyers try to intercept them, but Han is able to jump to hyperspace by reaching lightspeed.

Before the Falcon can reach Alderaan, Death Star commander Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing) interrogates Leia about the location of the Rebels's secret base, with the threat of destroying her home planet, and, when she answers that the base is on Dantooine, he orders Alderaan destroyed simply as a show of force. As the group arrives in the asteroid field that now stands in place of Alderaan, Han spots an Imperial TIE fighter and is taunted into chasing it and shooting it down, allowing the Falcon to be captured by the space station's tractor beam. Inside the Death Star, Obi-Wan attempts to disable the tractor beam, and Luke persuades Han and Chewbacca to help him rescue Leia after discovering that she is scheduled to be executed. After disabling the tractor beam, Obi-Wan sacrifices his life in an epic lightsaber duel with Vader, allowing the rest of the group to escape the Death Star with Leia. Using a tracking device, the Empire tracks the Falcon to the hidden Rebel base.

Leia's schematics reveal a hidden weakness in the Death Star's thermal exhaust port, which could allow the Rebels to trigger a chain reaction in its main reactor with a precise torpedo strike. While Han abandons the Rebels after collecting his reward for rescuing Leia, Luke joins their starfighter squadron in a desperate attack against the approaching Death Star. In the ensuing battle, the Rebels suffer heavy losses as Vader leads a squadron of TIE fighters against them, but Han unexpectedly returns to aid them in the Falcon, narrowly managing to save Luke before Vader can shoot him down. Guided by the disembodied voice of Obi-Wan's spirit, Luke turns off his targeting computer and uses the Force to aim his torpedoes into the exhaust port, destroying the Death Star moments before it fires on the Rebel base. In a triumphant ceremony at the base, Leia awards Luke and Han medals for their heroism.

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I want to explain the connection between this movie and the Joseph Campbell version of the hero's journey that so many people have pointed out. This journey starts out with a call to adventure that is refused and then forced (Luke is given an opportunity to leave, he declines, the death of his family pushes him forward, he leaves with his team). Campbell then predicts an initiation that involves meeting a woman and gaining weapons, a meeting with an incredible power, and an achievement of the hero's power (goes to star destroyer, meets Vader and loses Obi-Wan, gains power over force). The story ends with a refusal, a magic flight, a rescue from without, and a hero's return (Luke goes to attack the Death Star, Han refuses and then eventually saves him, and the day is saved so the heroes are rewarded). It is a story that is called the Monomyth and has been recognized in Greek myths that are thousands of years old. It is a good story that has been proven to work and it makes for one of the most enjoyable movies of all time.

There was some negative opinions of the film because it is such a simple old story that became extremely popular and film goers would no longer be interested in intelligent thinking movies. It is kind of the truth because blockbuster summer films are full of explosions. The highest grossing films since then have tended to be highly explosive action films. Films like Star Wars, Jaws, and Indiana Jones are a lot of fun, but they are not super deep. They are easy to understand at surface level, but they can also be interpreted to mean much more significant things. The choice of the viewer about whether the story has deep inner meaning or is just the Odyssey in space is personal and likely colors opinions about how good it is. Some people think it is stupid fun while others have actually formed religions around the idea of the force.

One thing is for certain, the formula worked amazingly well for a large group of people and this made movie producers want to copy it. This is what is generally called a watershed moment because the look of movies changed significantly. There were so many more space operas and they all had that worn post-apocalyptic look to them. Star Wars and Mad Max combined to give a different look of what futuristic was. There was advanced tech in some cases, but there was a scorched Earth that had run out of resources and people suffered. Think about how many movies and television shows there are that have come out since the 80s and combine industrial tech for space and distressed almost Western appearances for the planets. The movie changed the way many people see the future.

One thing that is inarguably great was the score. I am not going to try and describe it with words, I am just going to put links to the different themes here so you can hear for yourself:

Star Wars Main Theme (Full) - YouTube

Star Wars- The Imperial March (Darth Vader's Theme) - YouTube

Princess Leia's Theme - YouTube

Star Wars Episode IV A New Hope (1977) Soundtrack 11 Cantina Band - YouTube

This is somewhat strange for the AFI so I went back and checked, but I believe that this is the only film with a ranked villain (Darth Vader), hero (Han Solo), and theme song (Main Theme). Even if it is somewhat simplistic from some perspectives, the story and the songs and the sounds and the characters speak to those who watch it. Seeing the movie is an incredible experience and I envy those who get to see it for the first time.

I am a big fan of the original Star Wars trilogy and I could completely nerd out going over all of the little things throughout the movie, but this is not a deep dive but instead an overall review. So does it belong on the AFI top 100? Maybe more than any other movie. It is an epic tale that changed the way movies were made across multiple genres. We could probably look at all science fiction films and put them as before or after this one. It is an important piece of American film and (no matter what anyone thinks of the other Star Wars films or George Lucas) it is a masterpiece. Would I recommend it? I cannot say yes enough. It is part of my culture as a California movie nerd and understanding this film is understanding some of the basic knowledge I grew up with. All sticks are swung around like light sabers. If I say "Princess Leia hair," everyone around here knows exactly what I mean. If something is impossible but still needs to be done, we tell people to use the force. I have lived in the Bay Area for 20 years and I can still reference a location by how close it is to Skywalker Ranch were George Lucas worked on movies. Please check out this film and you will know why I am such a fan of movies.

#star wars #a new hope #use the force #john williams #film score #introvert #introverts #movie review #award winning films #special effects

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9thbutterfly · 4 years ago

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I wanna know about all your projects! they sound so interesting! but if I have to chose tell me more about goblins please? or nettle patch?

Goblins:

One of my many Kivailo world stories - how do I quickly explain the Kivailo world? Teenage/early twenties me grappling with the question of “could something like the nazis happen today?” and creating the most fucked-up country I could come up with. (And later mostly losing my interest in it because I realised the real world is at least that fucked up, if not more.)

I think plot-wise Goblins is the most interesting of the Kivailo world stories - it has “overcoming a lot of internalised homophobia and falling in love with another woman” and “rapist going from being an utter asshole to somewhat decent and saving some people’s lives (but still being a rapist because you can’t make that un-happen)” and “cute little girl and kindly old grandpa hide a person from genocidal government”.

Unfortunately it is an unedited and unfinished NaNoWriMo story... let me see if I can find a good bit that isn’t a complete mess of typos and notes to myself...

The little girl, standing in the hallway with her arms wrapped around the old man’s middle, was crying now. “But the goblin!” she sobbed into the man’s stomach. “They’ll see the goblin.”

Jonathan had already opened the door, and Julius followed him through before he had fully processed what the girl had said. But as soon as he had stepped onto the stairs leading to the attic, he understood.

He didn’t need to see – he knew as soon as he smelt it. The faint stench of urine and sweat, the smell of a human confined in a small room. Without thinking, he pulled the door shut and grabbed Jonathan’s jacket to spin him around and pin him against the wall. “You’ll keep quiet.” He whispered. “You won’t breathe a word, to anyone, or I’ll – I’ll tell everyone you’re gay.”

He was grasping at straws, voicing the one threat that popped into his mind, the one that might scare someone even if it had no basis in fact. Jonathan had full five months of military service left, and to spend these five months with everyone believing him to be gay would be a nightmare, perhaps even worse than what Julius had lived through when Daniel’s existence had become known.

But it seemed his random threat had hit home. In the dim light of the bare light bulb, Jonathan gasped, “No, please -! How did you -?” He snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip as if he had just realized that he’d all but confirmed Julius had been right. Julius himself nearly let go of Jonathan’s collar and stepped back, so shocked by the discovery that he almost forgot what was at stake. But the wave of sudden disgust, the disturbing idea that Jonathan might think he’d grabbed him to kiss him, still didn’t wash away the knowledge of what they would find at the top of the stairs – what the little girl had been crying about.

“Never you mind,” he grated. “You just keep your bloody mouth shut. And your hands and eyes off me, just so that’s clear.” He loosened his grip for a moment, then tightened it again. “Is that clear?”

Jonathan nodded, his eyes wide, his mouth working silently.

“You’ll stay quiet?” Jonathan nodded again, and Julius let go of him and continued up the stairs.

The attic was filled with a jumble of old furniture and cardboard boxes. A dusty wardrobe and a stack of boxes formed a wall next to the stairwell, with just a tiny bit of space to crawl to the other side. Julius got down on hands and knees to slip through. There was a mattress there, with a tangled nest of blankets and quilts, a covered bucket in the corner, an all too familiar sight for him, and balls and bits of string littering the floor. In a swift movement, he pulled the wardrobe door open.

The Kivailo cowered inside, shrinking back into the corner at the sight of Julius. At first glance, he seemed to be a middle-aged man, but as Julius put a finger to his lips, signalling for quiet, he thought he was probably not all that old, thirty at most. The Kivailo stared at him uncomprehendingly until Julius shut the door.

“Well?” he called to Jonathan. “Are you going to come, or what?” The other soldier quickly hurried up the stairs.

“The girl’s play room, I’d say,” he commented as Jonathan stuck his head through the gap in the boxes. He made a show of opening the wardrobe again and peering inside, catching another glimpse of the Kivailo’s terrified face, then shrugged, closed the wardrobe and poking a couple of boxes.

“It smells…” Jonathan started, but Julius wasn’t going to let him finish. “She probably left some snacks up here until they rotted. You know how children are. Come on, let’s check the other side.”

“Julius,” Jonathan said quietly as they poked around between the odd pieces of furniture on the other side of the stairwell, a crib, a rocking chair, some dilapidated cabinets, with a sewing machine and a typewriter standing on top. “There’s got to be…”

“I said, not a word,” Julius cut across him. “And I mean it.”

Jonathan’s eyes went wide, as if he just now understood what Julius had meant. “You’re…”

“Not a word,” was all Julius said, and he turned and clattered down the stairs, waiting for Jonathan to follow before he opened the door.

They had only just closed the door again when Officer Needs-A-Name came up from the cellar.

“Nothing to report, sir,” Julius said. “Just junk and a play space for the girl.” He jerked his head at the child and her stony-faced grandfather.

“I got nothing, either. On we go, then.”

He was as bored with these endless raids as the soldiers were, Julius suddenly understood. And he didn’t really expect to find anyone. He shot Jonathan another warning look as he followed the officer, then, when the older man was out the door, dropped to his knees next to the girl, just for a moment, just to whisper, “Don’t worry about the goblin. I used to have one in my house as well.” Before she or the old man had time to reply anything, he rose and followed the others out of the house.

Nettle Patch’s full title was “Out of the Nettle Patch into the Brambles” (no connection to The Bramble Prince, though), and it was supposed to be a fantasy story in which a bunch of farmers and craftspeople (just normal people, who do not turn out to be secretly royalty) save the world from some sort of supernatural threat... except I never really figured out what the threat was supposed to be, so it didn’t really go anywhere. So the whole thing is kind of a mess consisting of lots of backtracking and notes to myself and typos (again, unedited NaNoWriMo) but I liked the bit where a very shy teenager who is totally not a self-insert gets volunteered for the Quest.

His mother sat down beside him, and poked him with a sharp elbow. “Sit properly,” she reminded him sharply but quietly, and he slowly unfolded himself from his preferred posture, with knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, and crossed his legs like everyone else was doing.

“Well, Denneb,” his mother said. “These fine folks here are heading off across the mountains to find some lady that stole something from the temple, and they are going to need some help – they don’t speak the language, of course, and they also don’t know much about finding food in the forest, or about sleeping out of doors, like you do, so I thought it would be lovely if you went with them to help them. And it would be good for you to see a bit of the world, too – you can’t spend all of your life up here with your grandfather. I mean, I would prefer it if you just came down to visit us all a bit more often, and went to the village like everyone else, instead of sending you away, but if that’s what it takes to get you to come out of your hood a bit, then so be it. And how will you ever find someone to marry, if you always hide up here? You can’t marry a bear or a tree or something. And you’re really of an age to start looking for a nice girl, or a nice boy I suppose, Mother knows this family produces enough children that there’d be a few for you and a husband to raise, if you’d rather have one of those than a wife. But a wife would be lovely, of course, so you could have babies of your own.”

“Wait, what is this? Why does Denneb get to go over the mountains and look for a wife?” Nonnol suddenly appeared around the corner of the house again, skewers with marmot meat in her hands. “I want to go over the mountains to look for a wife.”

#chatty butterfly #bookshelfdreams

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 5 years ago

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She-who-fights-and-writes Coronacation Book Rec List

I know that a lot of people are stuck at home right now in dire need of entertainment, so I decided I’d put out a book recommendations list of all the books I’m currently reading and all of my must-reads!

(Just a note that a lot of these are Fantasy because I’m a fantasy nerd haha)

Books/Series I am currently reading

1. The Folk of the Air Trilogy by Holly Black (Currently on #2, The Wicked King)

Genre: High Fantasy

Setting: The land of Faerie which is kind of historical, but in the human world it is modern day

Main cast :

Jude Duarte (white, human, cutthroat, if I saw her in a Denny’s Parking Lot at 3am I would RUN)

Cardan Greenbriar (white, faerie, the true embodiment of Bastard)

Vivienne (Jude’s half-sister, lesbian with canon gf, half-human half-faerie, I would totally try to be her friend)

Taryn Duarte (Jude’s twin sister, queen doormat, still, I would take a bullet for her she’s jUST TRYING TO FIT IN)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

These books have been on my “To Read” list for so long now and for some reason I just never got around to reading them! Hands-down, these are some of the best high fantasy books that I’ve read in a long, long while.

I finished the first book, The Cruel Prince, in just two days and rated it 5/5 stars! Even though these books are high fantasy and focus on the traditions and ways of life of faeries, somehow all of the characters seem like I could meet them in real life!

The main character actually has genuine flaws and not just “””“flaws”””” and is a Bad Bitch down with murder, and the plot had me on the edge of my seat from page one!

The summary makes it sound like it’s going to be about their romance, but it’s really mostly about a power struggle and Jude being a badass.

Goodreads summary for The Cruel Prince:

Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences. As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

2. The Raven Cycle Series by Maggie Stiefvater (Currently on #1, The Raven Boys)

Genre: Present-Day/Realistic Fantasy (?)

Setting: The fictional town of Henrietta, Virginia

I haven’t gotten around to much of the book, so there’s not much I can tell you about the characters and I can’t properly give it a rating yet.

These books were also on my “To Read” list for a while; I was a huge fan of her book The Scorpio Races and have also been looking for something to quench my thirst for “private school/ghosts/magic” that I’ve been dealing with ever since I read The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo.

I’ve only JUST started The Raven Cycle yesterday, but so far I am hooked! I’m super worried because I’m TERRIBLE at juggling two series at a time but both of these are just so interesting!

Goodreads Summary for The Raven Boys:

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.” It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

MY MUST-READ BOOK LIST

1. The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Genre: Historical Fiction

Setting: 1700s Europe (England, Paris, Barcelona, Marseilles, Venice)

Main cast (I’ll try my best not to spoil anything because you find out a LOT of different stuff about these characters throughout the book):

Henry “Monty” Montague (white, bi/pansexual, attitude problem)

Percy Newton (mixed race, gay, very sweet boy, definitely got “most likely to bring home to mom” in the yearbook)

Felicity Montague (white, Monty’s little sister, headcanoned as asexual, I love her to death)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

Daring adventure, gay representation, historical setting, hilarious characters!

This book literally has it all! I would consider it one of my favorite books of all time, yet for some reason I’ve never gotten around to reading any of the sequel books! The ending is very satisfying and ties everything together, which I feel is part of the reason why I haven’t gotten around to them yet.

Therefore, it can serve as a one-shot read or a full series if you want to dive into something good!

The humor made me laugh out loud at points and all of the characters are very real and very, very relatable, not to mention the vivid settings of 1700s Europe!

Goodreads summary:

Henry “Monty” Montague was born and bred to be a gentleman, but he was never one to be tamed. The finest boarding schools in England and the constant disapproval of his father haven’t been able to curb any of his roguish passions—not for gambling halls, late nights spent with a bottle of spirits, or waking up in the arms of women or men. But as Monty embarks on his Grand Tour of Europe, his quest for a life filled with pleasure and vice is in danger of coming to an end. Not only does his father expect him to take over the family’s estate upon his return, but Monty is also nursing an impossible crush on his best friend and traveling companion, Percy. Still it isn’t in Monty’s nature to give up. Even with his younger sister, Felicity, in tow, he vows to make this yearlong escapade one last hedonistic hurrah and flirt with Percy from Paris to Rome. But when one of Monty’s reckless decisions turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt that spans across Europe, it calls into question everything he knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores.

2. The Ninth House By Leigh Bardugo

Genre: Horror, Fantasy

Setting: Yale University and the town of New Haven, Present Day

Main cast:

Galaxy “Alex” Stern (Hispanic, sees dead people, very scary)

Daniel Arlington “Darlington” (white, rich, an angel who can sometimes be a dick)

Pamela Dawes (tbh I honestly don’t remember what she looks like, only that she’s a tired grad student with big nerd energy)

Detective Alan Turner (Black, takes shit from nobody, husband material)

Rating: 4/5 Stars

(NOTE: THIS IS VERY DARK ADULT FICTION AND CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE, WOULD NOT RECOMMEND FOR PEOPLE UNDER 16)

This book is a great read for someone who’s looking for a disturbing, gritty book with layers upon layers of secrets that you have to peel away as the mystery unfolds. I love the secret societies and the intricate magic systems that the book introduces, and it actually made me hungry for more books like it!

Alex is a three-dimensional, very real character who also serves as an unreliable narrator who witholds or warps the information that she’s telling you, making the narrative all the more riveting.

The only issues that I have with it are the fact that Leigh Bardugo kind of just dumps you in the middle of it without explaining stuff first, to the point where it kind of feels like you’re reading the second installment of a series rather than the first one, so things can get a bit confusing at first.

The book also can drag and draw things out for a bit too long, but once the plot fully kicks into gear, you will not be able to put it down!

Goodreads summary:

Galaxy “Alex” Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale’s freshman class. Raised in the Los Angeles hinterlands by a hippie mom, Alex dropped out of school early and into a world of shady drug dealer boyfriends, dead-end jobs, and much, much worse. By age twenty, in fact, she is the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved multiple homicide. Some might say she’s thrown her life away. But at her hospital bed, Alex is offered a second chance: to attend one of the world’s most elite universities on a full ride. What’s the catch, and why her? Still searching for answers to this herself, Alex arrives in New Haven tasked by her mysterious benefactors with monitoring the activities of Yale’s secret societies. These eight windowless “tombs” are well-known to be haunts of the future rich and powerful, from high-ranking politicos to Wall Street and Hollywood’s biggest players. But their occult activities are revealed to be more sinister and more extraordinary than any paranoid imagination might conceive.

3. The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Genre: Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Setting: Earth, Space, The Moon

Main cast :

Linh Cinder (Chinese, based on Cinderella, cyborg, certified badass)

Scarlet Benoit (French, based on Little Red Riding Hood, farmer who is not afraid to shoot you)

Cress Darnel (White, based on Rapunzel, nerd, I will protect her with my life if I have to)

Kaito “Kai” (Chinese, based on Prince Charming, kind of has to run a whole country, a very kind soul, deserves a nap)

Carswell Thorne (White, based off of Rapunzel’s Prince, bastard)

Winter Hayle (Black, based off of Snow White, royalty, has super special powers)

Wolf (Race unspecified, based off of the Big Bad Wolf, charming killing machine, furry????)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

Do you like fairy tales?

Have you ever wanted to know what fairy tales would be like if they took place in the FUTURE instead of the PAST?

Do you like an amazing, hilarious cast paired with a super interesting plot?

These are the books for you!

I haven’t read them in so long, but I remember how much joy I felt while devouring these pages. Definitely something you will not able to put down!

Goodreads Summary for Book #1: Cinder:

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth's fate hinges on one girl. . . . Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister's illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai's, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world's future.

4. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Genre: Fantasy

Setting: Ancient Greece

Main cast:

Patroclus (Greek, Gay, quiet pining)

Achilles (Greek, gay, very strong, student athlete energy)

Brisies (Anatolian, clever, literally the only one in this story who has a brain cell)

Rating: 100000/5 stars

This is basically the Iliad but if historians hadn’t completely erased Patroclus and Achilles’ relationship. “Haha yeah these guys were totally bros” they say, even though I have read the Iliad and their relationship isn’t even subtle.

This book made me cry at least ten times. It’s just so beautifully written and has such a distinct vibe to it that whenever I crack it open for another time, it takes me straight back to the vacation that I read it on. (Needless to say, sobbing your eyes out can be less than helpful when you’re on the beach)

If you can only read one book on this list, it should be this one. I could talk all day about it and write novels on just how much of an incredible writer Madeline Miller is, but I feel like you’d get my drift a bit better if you actually read the book.

Goodreads Summary:

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. By all rights their paths should never cross, but Achilles takes the shamed prince as his friend, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But then word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus journeys with Achilles to Troy, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear. Profoundly moving and breathtakingly original, this rendering of the epic Trojan War is a dazzling feat of the imagination, a devastating love story, and an almighty battle between gods and kings, peace and glory, immortal fame and the human heart.

Hope this list helps you through your coronacation, and please don’t be afraid to reblog or message me to tell me if you’ve read/will read any of these!

#books #book recs #book rec #book reccomendation #book reccomendations #coronacation #corona #coronavirus #covid-19 #book rec list

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dreamingofscully · 5 years ago

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Momentum, Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

Rating: Mature (ch 1), Explicit (ch 2) Length: ~12k words Classification: M/S RST, Angst, Post-Ep for En Ami and spoilers through Chimera and all things Summary: Scully’s choices lead to some unintended consequences for herself and her relationship with Mulder.

Thank you to my betas! @sarie-fairy @scullyeffect and @o6666666 for the machete betas and @suitablyaggrieved @starbuckthirteen and @unhappybrthday for the feedback.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @kega-umi.

(Read on AO3)

***

SATURDAY FBI HEADQUARTERS

As Scully arrives at their office, she flicks off Mulder’s music, annoyed that she’s been working all morning while he’s been here having a good time without her. “Oh, bring me some lunch on your way over, Scully.” Sure, can I grab your dry cleaning, too?

When he first mentions crop circles she tunes him out, irritated at his assumption that she had nothing better to do on the weekend than run off with him to chase aliens or monsters or, in this case, mathematically-brilliant farmers. She’s tired of waiting for him and can’t make herself care about a nebulous case even if it’s better than being ignored and forgotten.

A few weeks ago she would have enjoyed spending a weekend with Mulder in England, distracting him from the case for a few hours here and there. But they weren’t lovers anymore, just estranged colleagues sidestepping the one topic they needed to address. Spending an extended and awkward period of time in his company, with no chance to escape, is an unbearable idea.

After the pointless “serial killer” case this past week she’d been just as guilty of avoiding him. He even brought her breakfast one morning but she didn’t meet his eyes, afraid of what she’d see in them, or what she wouldn’t. It was easier to pretend and hope than confront the finality of his decision.

When he tells her he bought plane tickets for them, she shoots him down immediately, not seeing any other option to preserve her sanity. He looks at her like he’s hoping she’ll change her mind, then speaks again.

“I'll just cancel your ticket.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he takes a single bite of his sandwich and heads for the door. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Mulder…” Scully waits for him to look back at her. “Look, we're always running. We're always chasing the next big thing. Why don't you ever just stay still?”

Why won’t he talk to me?

“I wouldn't know what I'd be missing.”

Disappointment is etched in the set of his shoulders as he disappears from view. The idea she’s let him down tugs at her heart, but is quickly replaced by the relief at not having to worry about being around him. The fact that she’s relieved to be away from him causes her mood to sink even further. When has it ever been the case that she’s been more happy away from him rather than the opposite?

*** LATER THAT DAY WASHINGTON NATIONAL HOSPITAL

“I know how difficult it must have been for you... just walking through that door but you wouldn't have come if you didn't want to and that says something, doesn't it?” - Daniel

His words affect her deeply. The touch from another that Scully’s craved for weeks catches her off-balance. His tenderness reminds her of what she misses, but is it the man or the feelings she craves?

It’s serendipitous. If she’d been given the correct patient file or she’d chosen to go to the hospital at a different time, she would never have known he was there. And the timing. She has no idea where she stands with Mulder and she’s losing patience waiting for him to decide one way or another.

Maybe he’s already chosen but I can't admit it to myself.

Daniel was a man she once loved so fiercely, at such a different time in her life. He still held strong feelings for her, spoke of her memory like it was a treasured thing. Even though he disapproved of the choices she made long ago, he remembers her fondly. It’s exhilarating to be regarded with affection after being starved of it for so long.

Was this a sign I should move on?

She remembers the advice Missy gave her when she decided to leave medicine and pursue her career in the FBI. Her almost-affair with Daniel was something she was reluctant to speak about to anyone, feeling guilty for loving a married man. Regardless, she told her sister everything, like always. Missy didn’t know Daniel but she didn’t like the way Scully said he talked to her, or that he was so insistent on breaking his marriage vows to be with a much younger student. Scully didn’t agree with her on the first, but she did on the latter. The trust she had in her sister made it easier to move on and leave him behind.

Was Missy wrong back then?

***

“You've come at such a strange time.” - Scully

Daniel’s focus is razor-sharp and in his eyes she only sees herself.

“I know, I know. You-you have a life.” She can tell he hopes her new life doesn’t include a significant other. She’s not sure what’s true any more.

“I don't know what I have.” She thinks about the interminable silence from Mulder, not knowing what he wants or what their future holds. The small things that brought her here now of all times. “I mean... your x-rays were in the wrong envelope. I never would have even known you were here if it wasn't for a mix-up. It's just…”

“What do you want, Dana?” It seems like so long since someone’s been concerned with what she wants, even herself. The words take her by surprise.

“I want everything I should want at this time of my life. Maybe I want the life I didn't choose.”

It was devastating to get a taste of intimacy with Mulder only to have it turn to ashes. She thought she knew what she wanted, but maybe she didn’t. Here was a path placed in front of her, the chance to choose something she denied herself so long ago. She was tired of denying herself happiness.

She’s interrupted by the irregular heartbeat of the former love of her life. She molds back into the person she’s comfortable with, the doctor, and acts in order to save him. Thoughts, dangerous; actions, familiar and comforting.

*** LATER THAT NIGHT SCULLY'S APARTMENT

Scully doesn’t get much sleep that night. She tosses and turns, unable to relax after the day’s tumultuous events. Her mind is a whirl of confusing and conflicting emotions. The juxtaposition of Daniel against Mulder. One completely devoted to her while the other seems indifferent. Maybe she could have the life she wanted with Daniel but, more importantly, she feels certain about what a future with him would look like. The unknown path lying ahead with Mulder frightens her. She has never been good with not knowing, with not having things planned out.

She used her skills as a doctor to save Daniel. The practicality of having the knowledge and expertise to do something useful feels like a security blanket. For years now she’s been delving into uncharted territory - seeing things she can’t explain. The idea that science doesn’t hold all the answers makes her feel small and inadequate. Leaving that behind for the comfort of medicine and Daniel’s love was very appealing.

After waking and consuming two cups of strong coffee, Scully gets the urge to visit Colleen but she’s not sure why. Her house felt warm and comforting and she regrets the way she acted that night. She has a few questions but nothing that couldn't be answered by a phone call. Needing to experience her presence again, she drives there anyway.

Suddenly the thought comes to her that Colleen reminds her so strongly of Missy. The thought causes a sudden flood of emotion to rise within her and she has to pause before getting out of the car. She’d just recently been thinking of how much she wanted her sister to help her think through her issues with Mulder. Compared to Missy, Scully feels woefully inadequate when it comes to dealing with her emotions. Her sister flitted from partner to partner, dealing with heartbreak and love easily and fully. It was something Scully had always envied. When her feelings for Mulder deepened to a point she couldn't deny anymore, she longed for her advice and comfort.

Scully steels herself as Colleen answers the door, pushing aside the memories and longing for her sister. She prepares herself with more practical questions about her current predicament. Scully doesn’t need help, Daniel does, and she has a vague sense that Colleen could steer her in the right direction. Something keeps driving her to trust her instincts when it comes to this woman, perhaps she should finally listen to them.

*** SUNDAY

“When we hold onto shame and guilt and fear it creates imbalance, makes us forget who we are.” - Colleen

Colleen’s words repeat themselves over and over in Scully’s mind. She moves away from thoughts about herself, directing them to Daniel. Despite leaving before starting an affair with him, his marriage was ruined and his daughter traumatized. Scully had moved on, but he’d lived with thoughts only of her for ten years.

The idea that he’d been so close for so long had meant to make her feel cherished but it only made her uncomfortable. When she’d been abducted he’d been in the same city, working in a hospital while Mulder searched endlessly for her. When Mulder was holding her hair back when she was sick during chemo, Daniel was impressing a new group of students with his brilliance. And when Mulder held her close during her baseball lesson and they finally took the next step in their relationship, Daniel was thinking about her, ignoring his family.

Perhaps Daniel was put in her life again for a reason. Maybe she should take a chance. He was here now and he loved her. She found comfort in his solid presence and the reminder of her former self, so sure of her science. She pushes away thoughts of Mulder, of the guilt and hopelessness from these past few weeks. A sudden ache blooms in her chest and she presses a hand to her sternum to contain it.

She vacillates for a few moments before making a decision, walking towards Daniel’s room with the flowers she’d purchased on a whim. Instead of breezing in his room and matching his smile with an equal one from herself, she’s greeted with news about Daniel’s worsening health.

Unsure of herself, she leaves the hospital, follows her instincts, and has a vision. The black heart - he’d been poisoning himself. The need to heal him, to bring him back regardless of what he would think or want overwhelms her practicality. If she could heal him, make him see what he was doing to himself, he would get better. Her medicine didn’t help, so it was time to trust in something else.

*** MONDAY

She doesn’t even think about what’s happening until it’s done. It felt so natural to utilize something so separate from her beloved science. She just let go and put her trust in the unknown, her instincts screaming at her that it was the right thing to do before her brain could catch up. Missy would be proud. She hopes it’s not too late to share these things with Mulder, that he’ll still care enough to appreciate the distance she’s traveled these past few days.

When she heads home from the hospital, her thoughts turn inward. She realizes now that the woman Daniel obsessed over is a barely recognizable ghost of her current self. Her gradual transition into the person she is now seems sudden and dramatic when she sees herself through Daniel’s eyes.

She wouldn’t have known she wasn’t the same person if she hadn’t seen him again.

Ever since the beginning of her work on the X-Files she’s been in denial of the things she’s experienced. It wasn’t until Antarctica that her refusal to acknowledge what she saw affected her relationship with Mulder and nearly drove him away. It wasn’t just about him or their relationship, but about herself. Her fear surrounding what she’s become and her stubbornness to resist change even in the face of unquantifiable proof.

She justified it as needing to balance Mulder’s penchant for believing anything, to ground him and keep him honest, as he told her himself. Her outright denial was dangerously untruthful. She realizes now how harmful her actions have been. The contradiction of being so unreasonably skeptical in the face of things she sees with her own eyes and then putting her trust in Spender’s words, despite the mountain of evidence pointing to his treacherous nature. The mistake she made was singular, but with all their history, must have been completely devastating for Mulder.

If they can see past this rift in their relationship, Scully knows things have to change. She’ll never believe everything she sees or hears without careful consideration or evidence, but she owes it to herself, to Mulder, to stop letting science blind her. She’s always tried to guide him to be more critical of his beliefs and not trust the first thing that comes into his head. He’s come a long way in the time she’s known him. Why should it be so hard for her to do the same?

A calmness settles over her at these revelations. She sees the path laid out in front of her, as clear as the sidewalk she sits beside. Her thoughts, like a warm blanket, settle over her, comforting her more than the sun’s rays hitting her back. She’ll always carry a little bit of her sister within her, and this makes her feel more like herself than she has in a long, long time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the blonde-haired woman in the cap for the fourth time during these past few days. Hoping to finally figure out what she has to do with the strange occurrences she’s been experiencing, Scully rushes to catch her. When she spins the figure around, it’s Mulder. She smiles widely, recognizing the path leading to Mulder, with him. The choices she’s made all along. Of course he’d be here now, so she offers to make him tea. She’s ready to open up to him, she owes him that. She owes it to herself.

*** LATER THAT DAY MULDER'S APARTMENT

Scully doesn’t speak about their relationship or about Spender, but it’s an unspoken thread that weaves through the story she tells Mulder. Her past, what she saw, what she finally believes. It’s enough to have him here listening to her, looking at her with wonder instead of indifference. Is it affection or an accident when he grazes his fingers along her own, as they sip their tea?

She lets the rumbling monotone of his voice lull her to sleep. The tension fades from her body, making her curl towards his warmth as she fades into unconsciousness.

Hours later, she treads to his bedroom and watches him from the doorway. A wave of tenderness washes over her as she gazes at his sleeping form. He’s lying on his side of the bed, one leg wrapped in his thin yellow pajamas splayed outside of the covers, the planes of his bare chest half covered by the sheet, his strong muscled arms resting on either side of him.

Taking a chance, desperate to maintain their connection, she lays her jacket on the corner of the bed. Inhaling a shaky breath, she wavers tentatively, not sure about whether she should presume she’d be welcome. Their conversation a few hours ago reminded her of where they used to be, but they have yet to speak of where they are, what their future holds.

"Mulder?" she whispers, her voice sleep-roughened and hesitant.

She can tell he hadn’t been fully asleep. He sits up slightly on one elbow and reaches his hand out towards her.

She approaches with a tremulous smile and stands beside him, twining her fingers through his. Mulder wraps his other arm around her hip, draws her closer and nuzzles his face into her stomach. She feels she's come home.

"Mulder... the right choice, the only choice, is us." She brushes her hand through his hair and leans over to kiss the top of his head.

“C’mere, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her towards the bed. The awkwardness of their embrace results in a stumbling maneuver that somehow ends with her halfway beneath him, their legs tangled together. She chuckles and caresses the rough, stubbly skin along his jaw.

“I wasn’t sure…” Scully’s not clear how much to reveal but, finding newfound confidence in her recent self-awareness and their time together tonight, pushes on. “...you wanted this.”

He moves a lock of her hair behind her ear, strokes her cheek tenderly. "When I wanted to go to England with you, it wasn’t just a case. I hoped a change of scenery would help me...." he searches for the words, “tell you what you mean to me, that I was sorry for being such an ass lately. That I am very, very sorry.”

“I had no idea.” Tears form in her eyes, regret at how she misinterpreted his disinterest. Replaying the scene in her mind she sees it now. He’d been acting so different that day until she shot him down. They were always unintentionally hurting each other, too afraid to voice their thoughts, afraid of rejection.

“Well, it’s good you didn’t come. You had some pretty incredible things happen here.”

Mulder looks at her closely, the familiar expression of his mind working, taking a dangerous path. Moving to lay on his side, he puts some distance between them.

“I haven’t been myself these past few weeks. Things have been… difficult.” Mulder looks away from her, resting his head on the pillow next to hers. He reaches out, his hand tentatively brushing against her shoulder.

“I know what I did was--” Scully starts to apologize but Mulder stops her, putting his thumb on her mouth and shaking his head.

“I went to a dark place... but I’ve been heading there for a while. I never really thought I deserved you, or the happiness we had together. I just used what you did as an excuse to drive you away.” Mulder takes a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to someone. She’s been helping me. I - I... don’t want to push you away any more.”

“Mulder... you deserve to be happy. We deserve this.” Scully moves closer to him, reaches out and places her hands on the side of his face to emphasize her words.

“I’m working on it. You make me believe, Scully.” He smiles, but there’s still sadness and regret reflected in his eyes. “I just need some extra help.”

Scully nods, touches her forehead to his and they take a few moments to just breathe together, side-by-side. She pulls away and waits for his eyes to open and look at her before speaking.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Scully bites her lip, brushes her hand through his hair. “Not talking. It doesn’t work anymore.”

Mulder nods and squeezes her shoulder.

"And… I want to be truer to myself. Can you help me with that?"

“Yeah. I can do that.”

Scully moves her hand to his chest, tracing a line over his pectoral and across his ribcage to the lean musculature of his back. She grazes her nails to one side of his spine, wanting to comfort, needing to touch. She drops her gaze to his smooth, coppery skin, overwhelmed by his closeness, the smell and feel of him next to her. A tingling sensation low in her belly spreads to warm her chest. Despite the desire building within her, she’s gentle instead of demanding, wanting to give him solace if that’s all he needs from her tonight.

As she meets his gaze again, the somber look has disappeared. His eyes are dilated, irises deep green and filled with desire, always exciting her with their intensity when he directs his gaze towards her. Suddenly he’s above her again, his eyes shadowed in the dark room, the glints of moonlight highlighting the strength of his jawline, the curve of his clavicle. She presses her thumb along the length of the elegant bone, her fingers over the muscles of his shoulder and neck, lightly grazing over his chin and finally his lips.

“Trapezius. Sternocleidomastoid. Orbicularis oris,” she whispers, centering herself as she touches him. Her eyes follow her fingers, absorbing the details she was so afraid she’d forget, trying to regain some semblance of control as her desire threatens to overwhelm her.

“You sure do know how to talk dirty to a guy, Scully.” His voice is low and gravelly and he angles his head into her touch. When she sees the affection reflected at her in his eyes, she's suddenly struck by the force of her devotion to this man. That they are here, again.

Their faces inch closer until their mouths are barely touching, a feathery kiss that makes her shiver and her eyes flutter closed. His hand grazes along her arm and shoulder to the nape of her neck, through the hair at the base of her skull while his other hand moves to caress the side of her breast, teasing her with his closeness. Their kiss deepens, tongues tangling against each other as the tenderness of their embrace builds into something more urgent. Twining her hands through his hair, Scully draws him closer. She’s missed him, missed this. She feels absolutely greedy with her want for him, not holding back now that she knows he wants this, too.

With his teasing hand, he reaches under her sweater and cups the swell of her breast through the satin of her bra, flicks the hardened peak of her nipple with his thumb. She moans softly at his touch, rolling him over and straddling him.

She speaks into his mouth, not wanting to break the contact of their kiss. "Mmm, clothes…" She wants to feel her skin against his length, wants him to devour her whole. She can’t wait a second longer.

Mulder’s hands move down her torso, pausing at the hem of her sweater. He wraps them entirely around her waist, sliding upwards. Scully takes over and whips the garment over her head and in the general direction of her jacket. Pulling her down, he kisses a trail from her neck to the fringe of lace covering her breasts. She gasps and moves closer, stroking her palms over his pectorals and reaching upwards to grip his shoulders. Sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes flicker closed as Mulder’s mouth continues over the swell of her breast. He curves his tongue around her areola, skimming around her nipple through the thin material as his hand seeks her other breast, massaging and kneading. His other hand glides down to grip her hip, dipping his thumb slightly underneath the edge of her skirt before cupping and squeezing her ass.

She’s on fire. Her skirt has hitched up to the top of her thighs and she thinks he must feel how wet she is already, even through the layers of clothing she still wears. Too many clothes. As if reading her mind, his hand caressing her breast moves around and deftly unhooks the clasp of her bra. He breaks from his suckling to remove her bra, grinning proudly up at her. Scully chuckles and leans over, giving him a teasing nip on his lower lip as his hands glide down her sides to search for the zipper of her skirt.

“Side,” she says and moves off of him onto her back. Lifting her hips after he unzips her, she helps him slip off her skirt. She watches as he moves off the bed to carefully lay it on her jacket. He finds her sweater lying precariously on the edge of the chair in his room and takes the time to unravel it and lay it neatly on her pile of clothes as well.

“Mulderrr…” Scully exhales, poking his bare ribcage with a stockinged toe impatiently.

“You’ll thank me later.”

He winks at her, standing by the bed, his darkened eyes sweeping over her languid form. Reaching for her waist again, he removes her pantyhose, taking her panties along with them. These he discards on the floor and she sighs as his gentle hands caress the bare skin of her legs. Grabbing her ankles, he pulls her to the edge of the bed, kneels down before her. Kisses the arch of her foot, the delicate bones of her ankle, the curve of her calf and the swell of her thigh, starting over again with the other leg - licking, nipping, soothing. Achingly slowly.

“So good, Scully.” His eyes connect with hers briefly before he lays his cheek against the top of her thigh, breathing her in, the scent of her arousal heavy in the air. He continues, nuzzling his face against her mons. Such a gentle touch but igniting a powerful flood of pleasure within her. Kneeling up, he presses his tongue to the skin at the joint of her thigh, slicks upwards and swirls around her navel, lingering on the sensitive sucking the skin below. Rising up on his elbows and looking into her eyes, he smiles contentedly.

He drags his fingertips over her hip to the curve of her waist, the side of her breast, running down her arm to clasp his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. She smiles at him affectionately, her chest heaving with anticipation.

He tears his eyes from hers and his head dips down between her legs. His other hand wraps around her thigh, cradling her to him as he nuzzles the delicate skin there, pressing tender kisses along each one. He lowers his head and his tongue drifts along the edge of her outer lips, a touch that ignites a fire deep within, spreading to the edges of her awareness. She moans softly and her free hand meanders to her breasts, caressing and squeezing her nipples, a counterpoint to his movements below.

After teasing his way in, he increases the pressure of his tongue. Using the flat of it to swipe upwards, circling around her clit and sucking lightly. He pushes inside her and swirls before rhythmically kissing and licking her folds, increasing his speed before slowing to a near pause. He relinquishes her hand, inserting one, then two fingers into her, curling upwards and stroking her g-spot. The indescribable feeling of pressure and warmth blooms upwards and outwards, causing her fingers to tingle and her toes to curl. His hand around her thigh moves to her hip and caresses back again, an exquisite loop she focuses on, willing herself to hold on and enjoy this moment for as long as possible.

The ache inside her builds as he nips and licks, caressing her just how she likes. She manages to lean up on an arm to look at him, needing to see him there, reassuring herself that this isn’t just another dream. His head peeks up from between her legs, watching her with a mirrored expression of desire as she touches her breasts. His chin is glistening with her wetness and his smile glints at her in the moonlight.

“You’re so… fucking… sexy... Scully.” Mulder punctuates his words with a few more curls of his fingers inside her, making her writhe and touch herself with increasing intensity. Still watching her carefully, he removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, moaning as he tastes her.

“Jesus, Mulder…” Scully groans, laying back, breathing heavily.

He moves back down, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on the skin of her inner thighs and lips, teasing her again, drawing out her pleasure. As he increases his movements, she feels her orgasm build, the tell-tale feeling like she’s about to overflow with sensation. He sucks her clit with the perfect pressure, runs his tongue up and around her lips, before sweeping over the skin above her clitoris, swollen with need. And that’s what sends her off the edge. The sensitive nerves throb, her inner walls contract, and she sees the universe behind her eyelids.

She never remembers what she says when she comes but she can always count on Mulder’s twinkling eyes, proud and affectionate, to recount the details later. Usually expletives and some form of religious heresy but always, always “Mulder, Mulder, Mulder”.

As she comes back to herself, she feels the gentle caress of his hands on her outer thighs, his scratchy cheek resting on the sensitive flesh of her belly. He’s watching her with an awestruck expression, a half-smile making him look boyish and happy. She wants to give him this all the time just to see his face, the rest of it a bonus.

She wriggles herself up the bed, beckons him with her hands. After discarding his pajama bottoms on the floor, he moves onto the bed beside her, grazes his fingers along her side and kisses a trail up her torso. He pauses at her breasts, cupping them tenderly in his palms. Taking one taut nipple in his mouth and suckling gently, her desire flares up sharply once more. He nips gently, then places delicate kisses over to the other breast, giving it equal attention. His attentions are leisurely, all-consuming, and Scully only wants more.

“Oh, Mul--” her breath catches. “Mulder, yes...”

He releases her nipple and looks at her, grinning broadly, stroking her breasts and giving them a sweet kiss on each rosy tip before moving up to embrace her, settling himself beside her tingling body. He presses gente kisses along her neck, trailing upwards to her face, soothing her warmed flesh with gentle grazes of his fingers and the tips of his nails. His hands move to the hair at her temple, slick with sweat, and he tenderly presses his lips along her hairline.

“Love you.” Scully sighs, wanting him close, to make him feel as good as she does.

“You’re just saying that because…” He traces the outline of her ear and sucks on her earlobe, tapping her earring in a familiar pattern.

“Mmm yeah, you’re right.” She grins at him and reaches down to swat his ass. She runs her hand along the firm skin there, squeezing, then moves around to grasp his cock.

Mulder gasps at her touch, suddenly frozen and certainly not the one in charge. She looks down between them, loving the contrast of her pale skin next to his muscled, coppery torso, her small hand grasping his thick, hard erection. She swirls upwards, using her thumb to coat his fluid along his length. Releasing him briefly, she pushes him on his back and rakes her gaze over his naked body. His muscled chest with its sexy patch of soft hair, his defined abs, his thick hard cock - all hers. She wets her lips and leans down, licking him from base to tip with the flat of her tongue, humming contentedly, warmth spreading from her groin when he moans. She swirls her tongue around the head and is about to take him in when his hands grasp her shoulders, stopping her.

“Not… ah, not tonight, Scully.” His voice is strangled and he’s panting already.

She smiles widely, knowing that with barely a touch, his own ministrations on her give him almost as much pleasure as it does her. She releases him and traces her hands along the length of his ribcage, grazing the tips of her fingernails over his skin, pausing to brush over the peaks of his nipples.

As Scully continues her meandering course over his body with fingers and tongue, Mulder slides upwards on the bed, starting to pull away from her. Before moving away he grabs her hands in his, squeezing them and bringing them to his mouth for a tender kiss. Their eyes lock, an understanding passes between them that sends a thrill up her spine.

Mulder reaches around and arranges the pillows behind him as she sits up on her knees. He turns towards her and sits on the bed cross-legged in front the cushions, beckoning her with a crooked, sexy smile and a gentle touch to her arm.

She kneels around him, straddling him, hovering over his cock. She reaches up within herself for some lubrication, coating him before she guides him to her entrance. Mulder’s hands brace her hips, his forehead presses against hers as they anticipate this moment. Their eyes connect as she settles his full length inside her with one fluid motion. Finally.

Scully’s stretched to the point where pain mixes indescribably with pleasure. She feels like he fills her up from head to toe--she’s never been more complete. Her eyes close, the emotions welling up from her chest threatening to spill over.

After what feels like eternity and a singular moment, she opens her eyes, Mulder’s face mere inches from hers. His right arm is holding her close, wrapping around her back, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck, surrounding her with his warmth. In his close embrace, she feels secure, protected.

“Hey.” Mulder smiles slightly, a wonder and shyness to his expression she wasn’t expecting.

“Hey, yourself.” Scully giggles softly, enjoys that she can look directly into his eyes from this position, that it’s so easy for them to kiss each other. As she presses her hand against his chest, she feels his heart beating wildly, matching her own. Their breaths coming in soft pants. Their lips touch gently, and they begin to move.

The intense feeling of his cock thrusting urgently within her is such a contrast to his gentle hand caressing her back, grazing the shell of her ear, the curve of her cheek, the soft skin of her neck. It’s her undoing, this duality of the man she loves - his intense passion and aching sweetness. She gasps as she kisses him, her desperation rising alongside her impending orgasm once more.

His mouth on hers, teeth clashing, lips pulling, tongues pushing and exploring. He tastes like her and like him, the mingling of their togetherness a unique flavor that she nearly forgot these past weeks. She gasps at the familiarity of this moment. Tears well in her eyes, fall down her cheeks and she licks the saltiness from her lips.

Mulder’s hand moves up to cup her cheek, brushing the moisture away with his thumb, he looks into her eyes, concern and love etched into their golden-green depths.

“You okay, Scully?” He stills her movements, caresses her neck and shoulders with his other hand.

“Mmm…” She has trouble forming words, so she smiles widely, bites down on her swollen lower lip and nods her head. She grasps the strong muscles of his shoulder and neck, and moves once again, faster this time, desperate for release. Her mouth latches onto his, sloppily lapping and sucking at his lower lip.

Scully feels the burning in her thighs at the effort of their lovemaking and she adjusts slightly. Mulder laps at the sweat gathered along her brow, kisses along her throat, the side of her neck. When he nips at the sensitive place behind her ear a jolt of pleasure causes her to shudder and moan.

He starts to take control, to thrust deeper as her movements become jerky and uncoordinated, his hands moving to her hips to guide and lift her.

“Love you.” He whispers into her ear, his warm breath tickling her there. He grunts, his voice strained and she can tell he’s trying to hold back, to make things last, to get her to fall again before he follows.

“Oh, God..” Scully can feel the rising tide of her release radiating outwards, her awareness laser focused on the feel of them moving together. One of his hands moves between them to rub her clit at their joined flesh. He thrusts sharply a few times, hitting the spot within her perfectly. And then she’s gone, seeing sparks beneath her eyelids, and a fluttering wave rise from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Mulder’s arms brace her as she rides out the contractions lost in his arms, floating in a sea of ecstasy expanding around her.

His breath soothes her flushed skin as she comes down. He’s whispering words of endearment that don’t quite connect with her brain, but his tone floods her chest with warmth.

He lays her gently on her back, leaning over her while she quivers and comes back to herself. His solid body pressed against her grounds her in the present, and she nuzzles into his neck, wrapping her arms around him to keep him close, feeling thick and heavy after her orgasm. When he pulls away slightly, she opens her eyes. Leaning on an elbow, he’s gazing at her and moving the sweat-slicked strands of hair away from her face. She smiles contentedly at him, lazily drawing patterns on the smooth planes of his bicep.

He grins back, but this time it’s his eyes that are filled with the tinge of desperation. His eyes close and she embraces him, encouraging him with her caress. Nestled between her thighs, he begins to thrust again, her palms splayed over his upper back, feeling the flexion of his movement. Her nails graze his torso with a feathering touch. She presses her nose into the hollow of his neck, breathing deeply. The unique fragrance of their sweat and arousal conjures up memories of their many times together before this night. It feels historic and familiar all at once.

She lifts her legs to twine around his waist. He grabs one of her legs, lifting it, letting him penetrate deeper. The weight of him on top of her, the sound of their bodies coming together, surrounds her completely. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as he’s given her, she clenches her inner muscles, tugs at his hair, nips and suckles the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Sc-Scully…” he chokes out her name before one, two, three thrusts and he finds his release, his mouth on top of hers in a sloppy kiss as he comes. He pumps a few more times before carefully collapsing on his side, drawing her on top of him.

Scully nuzzles into his chest, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. She wraps her arms tightly around him, wanting to hold onto this moment, this homecoming of theirs for as long as possible. When she feels his heart rate return to normal, he goes to move, to get something to clean them up but she doesn’t let him out of her embrace.

“Stay.” She kisses his neck, tasting the salty tang of his sweaty skin. “Stay.”

Mulder caresses her back, his hand moves to the nape of her neck and through her hair. He kisses her more firmly, holds her tighter.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Scully smiles at him, chuckling softly under her breath.

“No, I can’t,” she says, eyes twinkling.

She kisses him deeply, her hand caressing his hair. She breaks their kiss and looks into his eyes. His expression is unreadable and she feels a lurch in her chest. Her thumb moves over his bottom lip, traces its plush curve.

Mulder kisses her thumb, grasps her wrist so he can place tender kisses on each of her digits. She can sense him trying to think of what to say and, for a moment, she doubts herself.

He looks at her and there’s a sorrowful hesitance in his eyes. It reminds her of his words from before - how he’s unsure of himself. She wishes she could rid him of his doubts by reminding him of his worth, but knows it couldn’t be quite that simple.

“Remember, no hiding.” Scully reaches out and cups his cheek, reassuring him with a smile. A thousand words pass between their gazes and she sees Mulder’s expression soften, a small smile finally gracing his lips. She nuzzles the skin below his jaw and sighs, relieved.

“Find me if I do, Scully.” Mulder whispers into her ear, trails his hand along her back.

Once their bodies cool, Mulder ventures into the bathroom, returns with warm cloths to clean them up and a glass of water for them to share. His tender care, his focus on her pleasure, how could she ever doubt his love for her? His eyes tell her everything she needs to know, gazing at her with the love she thought she’d lost.

He wraps them in his light duvet and holds her close, gently tracing patterns on her shoulder. Scully buries herself in his chest, sighing contentedly at his closeness.

“So, uh… seriously, Scully. I’m wondering if I should stick around more, you only seem to experience strange things when I’m not around. Feel like I’m missing out.” His voice is teasing but she hears the vulnerability hidden between his words.

She leans up to look at him, kisses his lips and meets his eyes with a serious expression.

“I’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah?” Mulder brushes his thumb over her cheek.

“Definitely.” They both grin widely, finally acknowledging to each other what they want, what they both need. Pressing her face close to his, she kisses his cheek and jaw before laying back down.

Mulder kisses the top of her head, sweeps his hand through her hair. His touch slows and stops, his breathing even out, but she stays, just a little while longer.

There’s things still left unsaid, but that can wait until tomorrow. Despite the fear she feels about fully exposing herself to him, she’s eager to take this next step with him into their future.

She’ll have to leave before morning and she feels strangely regretful about it. Usually after an evening together, and always on a work night, they would leave before dawn. They would return to their empty apartments by themselves, not wanting to let their independent lives be disrupted by their intimacy. But things feel different now, like they're locked together, united even closer than before. She’s been denying herself so much by trying to hold onto the person she was. Things must change, within herself and between them, and for the first time Scully is at peace with it.

#xf fanfic #my fic #msr #mulder and scully #xfiles #x-files #msr fanfic #todayinfic

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ayshaelshamayleh · 4 years ago

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What is Divine Will in The Arab Israeli Conflict & why is it essential to the current discourse?

The Arab-Israeli conflict has been ailing me extensively for the past few years. Not exactly for the reasons that are common amongst Muslim-born Arabs. But for reasons pertaining to contemplations about Divine Will. As a scholar of The Holy Bible -one who has studied the Quran, both having grown up in a cultural context rooted in it and having had to study it as a spiritual seeker in the process of finding a faith/creed - I am burdened by uncomfortable questions. As someone who believes in God, solidly, I am broken by my inability to understand God’s hand in this war that lives so close-by.

Let me explain my point-of-view: I experience the bible as true word of God, on a personal basis. I live with it. I study it. I model it. I am Arab. I live in Jordan. Israel roots its claim to Palestine in a biblical promise made by God, and narrated in The Holy Bible.

I find it important for there to be Arabs, accustomed with the bible, engaging (and in fact leading) the discourse about the Arab-Israeli conflict. Arabs who are interested in the conflict must know more about the biblical context, no matter what they themselves believe, so that the conversation is more productive than it has been. If your opponent is claiming God is doing this, and it is difficult to understand how it is possible for an entire country to come into existence out of nothing, the question of “is this by God’s will or not?” must be important for every believer or spiritual seeker on both sides. This way you will speak clearer, and more convincingly, using a language all sides understand and relate with. You should not deny religious belief systems are at the core of this conflict, for everyone involved. You can’t care how uncomfortable that process is, it’s uncomfortable for all of us. And if politics, especially in a land heavily documented to be God’s, is a physical manifestation of the design of the energetic realm; it is important for all those who really look for or believe in God, to ask: “what’s up?”, and to consider that a priority question in their outlook, should they be true believers, true thinkers, true citizens.

Let’s deal with what’s in the bible about this conflict. To summarize, in the bible the Jews are promised to be scattered amongst nations, and God’s subsequent redemption brings them back to a Promised Land. From Abraham to Joseph to Moses to Joshua to David, the journey that is the blue-print for the spiritual-Jew takes him/her from living somewhere, God approaching him/her and wanting a relationship, as part of a chosen people (chosen by random, not because they are better than the rest, but just to use them as a sign, a symbol, for His relationship with all of humanity at a certain point in history). So then, like the rest of us, they dance between committing to Him and wanting worldly desires and comfort, falling in the face of fear to truly trust Him, to follow His voice and wait in the silence, to move in obedience, to humble themselves as to have a sovereign God over them. They didn’t do that. As you and I don’t do that. As we all don’t do that.

So then, God -having had good things to give them, good things to promise them, good ways to love them (the quintessential Perfect Lover) - in pain scatters them (‘because it’s over’). He scatters them into Egypt through Joseph, where they move and are eventually enslaved. To taking them out of Egypt, through Moses, wandering a scorched land of a desert for 40 years, so that everyone dies but their remnant (a minority out of them that loved God back in action), who are then given their ‘promised land’. And in the historical bible this does indeed correspond to areas in historical Palestine and its surroundings. David becomes the King of Jerusalem. Solomon builds his temple. Then the cycle goes downhill again, by the time of Daniel, famous for surviving a cage of lions, the jews are back to enslavement in Babylon. The downhill cycle continues.

One important point to mention is that all throughout the Old Testament, the people of God are promised a Messiah, and to define “messiah” in lay terms: it is the someone or something through which we are saved, making life perfect and peaceful (it’s what every human dreams of and is alive in wait of - the perfect peaceful good life; the Messiah is the spiritual linguistic term that corresponds to the tool which brings about that life we dream of; the life-like heaven we pursue, the perfect state of us becoming perfectly ‘corrected’ and at peace with our existence).

Now the New Testament tells the story of the Messiah, who is named Christ Jesus (consider it a random linguistic term for now that corresponds to this ‘tool’). Just to avoid confusions, because life is such that we are prone to mistaking a new car or a promotion or a new wife for a messiah -I just confirm that if you want to delve into the realm of precise language and the human-Divine story in order to discern whether the life you have is the one promised to you by God (or if you are living in a land way off-track), the ‘Messiah’s’ character is historically embodied by a man who happened to go by the name Jesus, at random (just the case, neutral). The things you like and fall in love with remind you of the character of ‘Jesus’. If we are to use his name just as a name of a character that is uttered by some people on the route through which we get to that life-like heaven, it’s just that. The gospel gives you a full and short enough narrative about that character (philosophically, artistically, literarily, poetically, historically, literally) to be able to use it as a reference for your life in that practical and simple, manual-style way - should you be one interested in answers that come through such a pallet.

So this fella, Jesus, a jew himself, a son of the lineage of David, a Christ of God comes to settle the debt between God and humanity once and for all. This guy comes to give us a tabula rasa, not just that, but a permanent stay in the life-like heaven. In fact, he says he’ll be inviting you and preparing us to live practically and truly as children of God. Like we feel that way, experientially. Now as you can imagine, you turn out to be indebted to the God that you avoided, silenced, maybe cheated on, but who still shows up (from Adam to your name). So this ‘tool’ of a Messiah is necessary.

We fully understand the feelings of God on that front through the Book of Hosea (in the Old testament). The prophet of the times was called by God to get married to a cheating wife as a sign of the era and the feelings of God about humanity’s relationship with Him. The endless dancing, not settling, confusion, blurred lines, not making a decision about His presence and involvement, confusion, fear-of-commitment; mess. That wife, symbolizing the people of God, keeps running away into the hands of men (and man-made things), until she finds herself in a slave market. That slave market has modern iterations we are familiar with: selling our souls to jobs we hate, making money that is useless to spend on band aid solutions for the void and the endless pain of wanting life-like heaven but losing the way, insisting that is the only way it goes. That was Hosea’s wife; just like us. Wanting to skip investigating God’s design of life in favor of good times, and “busy-ness”.

Now if you’ve ever been cheated on, imagine that happening over and over for centuries with someone - the brokenness and ridiculousness and unfairness pile up, and Him showing up to create a life for you doesn’t mean the wounds went away or that His showing up is sustainable on an energetic level (think “accounting”). So (to be very simplistic in handling Christian philosophy) something needed to wash things over, resolve you, heal you, get a final fix so the two entities -you and God- could be ‘together’, compatible again, somehow -in friendship? In romance? Him, your Perfect Lover (each up to his capacity in His will). And that route that does that, mathematically and mythically and literally and linguistically, was randomly assigned the name Jesus.

So what would it take God to reconcile us to Him, according to the bible (the new testament)? The answer is counterintuitive and very difficult to accept or agree to believing in. Before I lay it out, there’s this parable in the new testament that Jesus narrates that might help. There was once a man (alternate man with “God”), who owned a vineyard, and worked very hard at it, dug the winepress, built a tower, and lent it out to some farmers (alternate farmers with “us”) and went to a faraway country (alternate that with “life”). When harvest time came, the man (/God) sent his servants (/friends that walk around in your life constantly annoying you about God or things that remind you of such) to get his share of the fruit as agreed. The farmers (/us) responded by refusing the owner’s end of the bargain, so they beat the servants (/annoying friends) and killed them, so the farmers kept the whole harvest to themselves (/as they wished). The man (/God) sent more servants again. The farmers (/us) killed them again. So then the owner of the vineyard sent his son (alternate that with “Jesus”), thinking the farmers (/us) would respect someone as close and dear and connected to him as an actual son in this ordeal, and that we would give this son the rightful share. When the farmers saw the son, they said to themselves this is the heir, come let us kill him and keep his inheritance to ourselves. And so they did, just that. Killed him to get the land (/life) for themselves with no accountability before its owner.

The proposition that is difficult to understand or agree to is that God, instead of finding a system that would make us pay for our unwise choices in our relationship with him, knew we couldn’t possibly manage to do that. So, be patient with me here and see it in mythical terms for a second; God paid the price of our wrongs by sending someone of Himself, allowing us to witness ourselves choose to kill him, and in response He showed us He resurrects, and everything not of His dies, to reach out to us for further correction again. The cycle of life keeps moving in that direction. God is here for good. At His own price. This is what makes “God” God, his capacity to love, counterintuitively. This personally moves me.

The Christian philosophy essentially says God made a truce that is light and easy. If you are drawn to the character of this son, if you love this one who lived loving Him and his neighbor, showing the way, forgiving, sacrificing himself; you are saved and you enter your life-like heaven. The alchemy that happens within you, evolving you, as you pursue your belief in him changes your character into a state able to find and enjoy heaven. Now this life-like heaven isn’t easy. It entails embodying a life like that of God’s son. Loving God. Loving people. Telling the truth, even when it’s difficult. Having people mistrust your goodness. And instead of you choosing to retaliate, choosing to expose your wounds and your pain. Humbling yourself before God and man by asking your Maker for the strength to be good in truthful terms, for the sake of the people’s love for God and God’s perfect love for people. You will be persecuted because of that. You will be whipped. You will struggle. Yet within that life, God Himself works miracles in you and through you. You witness them. You feel Him, real, and strong. You know God. You see Him. Daily. He knows you. Personally. And there’s nothing else you need after that point, apart from enjoying your faith. And thus, heaven is on earth. In that counterintuitive and difficult way.

Needless to say, what I’m describing above is not the ‘state’ of Israel. Let’s tie this back to the Arab-Israeli conflict. One of the reasons the historical Jesus was not accepted by the historical jews is because they were expecting a political King for a messiah. A man who controls life. Who leads them to physical prosperity; monetary, “real”. Christ was too ethereal for the historical jew. Too intangible. Promising a kingdom of heaven, not earth. So those who are jews in today’s world are an expression of a spiritual state that hasn’t accepted that the ‘messiah’ (the tool to life-like heaven) can come. They find it hard to grasp that after Adam and Eve’s fall from heaven on earth in pursuit of the physicality of life and its desires, the story ends with God coming down to earth to be with us. But that “being with us” is inside of us -I hate to break that, I know it’s an overstated statement. It demands letting go of the world enough to experience Him, rely on Him, see Him, find Him within the eye of the soul. Peace comes out of that silliness, that wherever your geo-coordinates may be in the universe, you are in God, and you work hard at maintaining that (through discernment of what is and is not God) and you suffer in His name. Faith isn’t a hobby. Faith is a full-life ordeal.

Let’s tie this back to the issue of the Arab-Israeli conflict again. What is going on has to do with another important belief that is so rare. Jews, christians AND muslims all agree on one thing: The world will end with the second coming of Christ (in fact, to Jerusalem). I don’t need to tell you that in today’s post-COVID era and post-Deal-of-the-Century, etc. reality, many feel -as secular as we may be- that the world keeps feeling like it’s ending. Now since all three creeds (i.e. the majority in this region) piously and unanimously agree that earth is destined towards a direction leading to the “arrival” of Christ, then all who are “correct” by their own standards, should be living in pursuit of knowing Christ, regardless of your religion. Your religion stipulates that, should you be a true believer.

Those who do not know Christ, if they believe in God or are asking questions about God, should learn about him. It is a part of your religion. Social taboos on that front should not concern you, because you claim to believe in God, not people. A life of faith demands a life of your own faith in action, in behavior, in practice - waking up in the morning and working on yourself to find more about your God everyday, about your ‘religion’ everyday. Asking the uncomfortable questions. Anything else is not belief, or creed, it is a facade and a lie. It collapses. If you are unsure there is a God, the most important goal in your life is to go find out whether there is. Don’t wait till a deathbed.

In my twenties I watched my father die over six years. His real and actual deathbed was fatally propped in our living room. And I watched. I watched him reckon with death. I watched his life be accounted for, both in the human realm and in the other one. I watched him apologize for wrongs he had done people. I watched him pray. I watched him pretend to have beings in the room other than my family. He was asked questions by them (very intelligent, logical and concise). He even gave answers he would turn to me and say were right or wrong or ones he was unsure of. He became so beautiful in his withering, the most loving essence of him palpably fragrant. I saw Christ. He was devotedly Muslim. Not in how he applied laws. But how he practiced, so humbly elegant, real faith is something so dense and real, but unseen, unacknowledged, unaccounted for. That humanity is the only one I wish to see.

Life takes time. People have different paces and different paths. Intrinsic in the choices they make about how they live life and what they name things (e.g. ‘Israel’), they express what they worship, you express what you believe is the right modem for life. You can’t control your neighbor. You can just worry about your stuff - another overstated statement, I know.

Here is a political state calling itself “Israel” that believes in doing good for itself and for its people, in hate and at the expense of what’s outside of itself. Is that wrong? They themselves say “no, not when it’s for our best and we are a chosen people”. In my contemplations about Divine Justice, I ache to understand how it is fair that God gives others a choice in how they treat things around them. How is God “God”, if He leaves it all to people? There seems to be no power behind it. Just suffering, and bleeding, and dying on a cross. That’s no God at all - I would imagine the spiritual jew and most Arabs would agree. Not impressive enough to warrant belief. Too passive, many people I’ve crossed paths with have said this.

As a person of faith, I struggle with those questions as well. I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. I experience God as so perfect as to give people choice, even in how they treat Him, and in how they treat others. He is magnanimous as to warrant freedom of speech and behavior. But don’t take that lightly, because you will win. So it’s on you in the smallest of moments. Life and how the people around you experience it depends on you and your choices. There is divine judgement but you are allowed to do whatever you wish, it has consequences, but that’s not the reason you do good. You do good because you believe in the intrinsic value of creating a good world (should you live in a life-like heaven, then that’s imperative for you). Doing good to avoid punishment points to a young state of faith, baby believer, there is much space for development. We work towards becoming adults in God.

I fail to understand what sort of life to lead to contribute to the resolution of problems that claim people’s lives around me. I feel the situation, it hurts me deeply. Life and God get confusing to the point of total implosion. To be real, since finding faith, the condition of my life is often signaled by whatever is happening in Jerusalem. If you want to know how I am, look up ‘Jerusalem’. Not because Jerusalem causes my pain at all, but my pain coincides with it, like truth. It’s like we’re in the same box of existence. Not by choice, I don’t even share any genetic roots to the place. I’m a random person of God. That state hasn’t been good.

I feel that an important response (in addition to the other responses out there) to what is happening in Sheikh Jarrah would be to compile resources again and get the people to live in a neighborhood that loves them. Man should not need to negotiate his value amongst the people who live close-by him. In all cases, and despite complexities, man must live amongst the people who are concerned about him, willing to carry him all the way through. I pray that that comes through, and if in any way I am helpful, I’m interested in collaborating.

I’ll end with this good thought by pastor and author Tim Keller:

“Anger is love in motion to deal with a threat toward that which you really love (to disintegrate the threat) – to see what your heart loves the most, you need only ask what you are defending.”

Worth the think.

#Jerusalem Bible Israel ArabIsraeliConflict

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forfuchssake · 5 years ago

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Batbear to the Rescue || Bri & Morgan

TIMING: Present PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & @honeybugbearbri SUMMARY: A hunter tries to capture and kill Morgan and Bri comes to the rescue.

Bri found it funny the way hunters worked. Always so concentrated on their prey that they forgot how quickly they themselves could become the prey. She’d been watching Jack for a few days now, ever since she saw him stake a vampire outside Nightshade. That simply wouldn’t do. It was easy enough to keep somewhat on his trail, get a feel of his routine, and slightly play with his reality. Men like that, they never dreamed that they could be on the other side of it all. They thought they were the biggest predators out there and their own ego would be their downfall. He was in her forest now, her domain, stalking after some girl who seemed to be hunting a rabbit. Brianne knew she must have been some sort of undead, but that mattered little. The priority was turning this hunter into her own trophy. She lurked quietly behind the trees, waiting for him to spring into action.

Morgan was reluctant to call Remmy the moment she felt herself coming a little too unglued. They had only just started talking again, and this wasn’t a disaster of a day. This was just a time when the nothing of the world around her grated, when she felt the pull of the death-pit inside her a little harder than she had the last few days. And dammit, she didn’t want to go straight back into bed, or worse, the floor. Remmy said to keep trying. So, while Deirdre was out, Morgan returned to the woods. She was hoping to practice the lessons Ulfric had given her, but the smell of death was distracting her. It was just the right kind, she could tell by spotting it in the distance. Not too fresh, not too rotted. Morgan turned her attention away from her live prey and towards another. She didn’t even have to be quiet. Morgan leapt--and felt a stiff wire around her neck, yanking her onto her back. Morgan scrambled, kicking her feet uselessly at the grass. She didn’t even think about calling for help. Who would hear her? Who even knew where she was? Morgan tugged at the wire, her fingers slipping on the smooth cording, scrambling for purchase. She pawed back, searching for the rest of the lasso. The person on the other end tugged, dragging her across the ground. Morgan tilted her head back, eyes pinballing through the woods in panic. She couldn’t see anything. Just a shadow. A no one shadow.

“Don’t fight,” they said. “You’re only gonna make this harder on yourself.”

Morgan squeaked, grunted mutely. The cord was digging too deep into her neck for her to speak.

Any suspicions she had that Jack had been on the hunt were confirmed when Bri saw him attack. As he sprung to capture the woman with some sort of cord, her body shifted and Bri felt herself become larger than life. With a roar, she leapt for the distracted hunter, claws tearing into his sides. The pitiful little yelp that came out of his mouth was music to her ears. The bear looked him straight in the eye, loving how palpable the fear radiating off of him was. His grip on the wire he was using to trap the undead woman loosened and fell from his hands. A quick paw swiped it away from him, leaving gashes in his hand, as he tried to reach for it again. With a booming roar, Bri lowered her now bear shaped head right into his face. The fear coming off of him was delicious. The righteous poetic justice of watching the wretched man realize he had become her prey. If bears could smile, her grin would be wide as she could smell the stink of urine on him. Jack really was quite easily frightened. Seemed surprising giving his occupation, but when faced with the reality of death, they were all the same. As he whimpered, she slashed her claws into his throat and watched the blood pool into the grass beneath him. Confident he was dead, the bear backed away from the hunter’s body. Jack was effectively dead and she contemplated finishing off a bottle of Jack Daniels. She could place his teeth and smaller bones inside once she finished. It’d make a great centerpiece. A true bottle of Jack. Sensing the girl’s eyes on her, she focused on shifting back to her now nude human form. She quizzically looked the other woman over. “Are you hurt?”

Morgan felt the cord loosen first. Whimpering like a frightened animal, she tugged and clawed at it wildly until she could get it over her head and as far away from her as she could throw it. It was a fucking metal lasso, like the kind they used in zoos for the big cats. Morgan touched her throat, grimacing with a horror she hadn’t felt before. Her stomach tightened. Fuck, was she going to be sick? She backed away. She couldn’t remember where the dead rabbit was, which way she’d come from, where she’d put her phone in her pocket. She fumbled to pat herself as she backed away, but her hands were shaking too much to dig through anything. When she heard a strange voice, she cried out, backing further away. This was--not the scary murderer in the woods. Mostly because the scary murderer, and his stakes and sword were on the ground. So-- “Who are you?” Wait. She’d asked her a question first. Right? “U-uh…” It was a little hard to speak. “I’m fine. I’m...not hurt. I can’t...really get hurt anymore. Mostly.” But it was hard drawing enough air in to speak. Her throat ached. “Where did you come from?”

Bri looked at her with narrow, quizzical eyes. It was clear she was in pain, but she supposed it would heal quickly considering what she was. Her questions were valid, it wasn’t every day a bear came out of the woodwork and killed an undead hunter before your eyes. Catching wind of these guys was rare for her. Most of her collection had been werewolf hunters, but she always believed variety to be a virtue. Plus, now the woman before her could go about her way and hopefully stir fear in those around her. As she answered, Bri crossed her arms over her bare chest and answered, “I’m Bri. I live closeby. I do these woods a service and keep them as hunter free as I’m able.” Looking her over, it was clear she was going to be okay. The undead had a way of healing quickly. “I’m glad you’re okay. A hunter victory is a loss for all of us.” With a slightly sinister grin, she said, “Why? Did I startle you?” With a gesture over to a cluster of trees, she answered, “From over there. I’ve been trying to keep tabs on this one since I saw him stake a vampire outside of Nightshade. He wasn’t quite so brave in the face of fear itself it seems.”

Bri was taking all of this very weirdly in stride for Morgan. Just standing naked in the woods and talking about the woods and asking questions like why and what’s up. Just another day in the life of...whatever she was. Morgan didn’t know where to put her eyes. Looking at the person talking to you good, gawking at naked women, bad. No winning here, and Morgan’s brain was still frazzled from how suddenly the world had literally fallen out from under her, how quickly she could’ve been chopped or caged away from the life she was just barely getting a grip on. Morgan risked a look down at the body. Not much of a looker anymore, but he didn’t seem familiar. “I don’t think I even know that guy,” she said faintly. “How does that even work? When did he meet me?” What did hunters like him do? Prowl the woods for zombies looking for dead critters? Because that was super threatening. “H-hunter victory,” she repeated. “That’s...that’s a thing. The thing that almost but didn’t happen. Right. Um...no, not startled, exactly, I think that started somewhere around the wire noose in the middle of what I really thought were deserted woods.” She swallowed, touching her throat again. Then risked an awkward ‘promise I’m not a creepy lesbian staring at you naked’ look in her general direction. “Thank you. For saving me. That was...I mean, you don’t even know me. And, um, sorry, my brain is lagging with the sudden near second-death--I’m assuming you know, somehow, I’m already kind of dead, and if not, weeeell--um, but: what is Nightshade? And can I--get you anything. Do anything or...whatever, for the random rescue favor? Do you do this a lot or something?”

Nudity was no stranger to Brianne. It was never something she really thought much of until seeing more of the human world. For bugbears and she had to imagine for other shifters, being naked was not something that was inherently sexual. It was just a natural state, the most natural if you were constantly shifting between bear and human forms. Her short stints of socializing did help her learn most others were uncomfortable with nakedness, whether it be their own or the nakedness of others. “You can look at me,” she remarked, “I was just a bear, societal norms mean little to me.” Bri supposed if she was still uncomfortable, that was her own deal. As expected, she had a lot of questions. “It’s hard to tell if he had been previously tracking you or not. I had been tracking him which was quite easy. He was overconfident.” She looked down to Jack, he looked like a work of art the way he was mangled on the grass. If she could paint, she’d paint Jack as he was right now. Her shoulders shrugged as she looked back to the undead woman, “I gathered as much. I presume undead seeing as dear Jack here was after you.” She listened momentarily as the other woman seemed to gather her bearings and asked more questions. It was understandable, some lesser man had just tried to turn her into prey with a cowardly metal lasso. With narrow eyes studying her, she answered, “Nightshade is the farmer’s market in town. It’s a nighttime market that’s open on Friday’s. I’m a beekeeper, I have a stand there called Honey Bri. You don’t owe me anything, I take joy in bringing hunters to justice. I’m Bri, a bugbear if you were curious about the whole bear thing.”

“Just a what?” Morgan was so surprised she looked Bri square in the face, trying to understand. “Did you say bear? Like...uh...a real bear? A bear who’s sometimes a person or a person who’s sometimes a bear?” She went on, something about tracking the hunter, or the hunter tracking her, she couldn’t keep track of which was which. When had she been tracked? Had someone really reported ‘woman playing dead in the cemetery’ to the police? Were there creepy pictures of her yoinking her arm out of its socket with Jane? Morgan started to tally up her outings in her head, trying to figure out how few pieces someone might need to put together who she was, what she was. “Honey Bri,” she mumbled, coming out of her thoughts. “I’ve never been to...there. The uh, Nightshade Market. I thought there was just...the normal farmer’s market.” She stared at the woman again. She had definitely, definitely said something about bringing hunters to justice. And not through giving them a good talking-to, but murder in the woods kind of justice. Morgan’s insides were still clenched with fear, but she couldn’t help being relieved. She would have wanted this to happen to him. It was what he deserved, dragging her across the forest floor like a mangy animal. But Bri had done it with so much calm. She wasn’t even breaking a sweat. And yet the thing Morgan could summon the words for was, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what bugbear means.”

“A bear,” Bri deadpanned. At the visible still very present confusion, she cackled slightly, She supposed her kind wasn’t as well known as most among the supernatural community. “Both, I suppose. Some bugbears live their lives mostly in bear form, others live mostly in human form. Depends on who you ask. I live mostly as a human. Still am very comfortable with nudity considering I transition between forms often.” She quietly allowed time for the woman to process what had just happened. Near death experiences seemed to throw most for a loop. Learning of a new species was probably also a bit on the strange side, especially if she was new to life as a zombie. Bri’s head was tilted as she watched her process everything. “Nightshade is a night time market that’s open on Friday’s. You can find ordinary stuff there as well as some out of the ordinary things. If you think of it, you can probably find it there. My stand is straightforward though- it’s honey and beeswax candles. I just like bees so I keep them.” She shook her head lightly, the woman was still disoriented and likely still hungry. “Yes, a bugbear. That’s what I am. I eat fear, spook people, and turn into a bear sometimes. The stopping hunters from killing people like you is more of a personal hobby.”

Processing was coming a little easier. Morgan caught the part where Bri’s ratio of animal-to-human was more fifty-fifty than, say, Ricky’s. She understood about the appetite, and how that might open some doors to aggressive tendencies, friendly as she seemed now. “Oh, like a Mara. Only...not. Okay. That’s neat.” She caught the part where Nightshade was a supernatural farmer’s market, and Bri smelled beeswax candles, and had enough brain cells working together to suppose it might be a good thing that she was only finding out about this after she’d lost the magic to compete with her. Bri didn’t seem the type to take kindly to a monkey’s paw. The part where Bri was some sort of superhero vigilante gave her more pause. She wasn’t sure why someone fighting back or helping strangers was the hardest thing to believe since she’d moved here, but it boggled her mind enough to fill her with a distressed wonder. “That’s...I mean, that’s kind of amazing, but...well, don’t you...don’t they ever try to hurt you back? Don’t you ever get scared about what they’ll do? I mean, not that I’m not grateful that I’m not—” she gestured vaguely to the hunter’s body. “Like that. Or in the back of some truck or being cut up for bone goo—” her voice trembled as the wide variety of potential awful started to sink in. “I just mean. That could be you too. That’s a lot to do for someone you don’t know.”

It seemed the initial shock of being hunted was starting to wear off. Bri nodded slowly at the mention of mara. She was familiar with them, primarily because of the shifts she’d pick up every so often at Misery Manor, but she found some of them to be a bit uppity. She paid little attention to their superiority complex. “Not quite. Similar in feeding on fear, but still different. Most mara and bugbears wouldn’t like to be compared. I don’t care much, but there is a little bit of rivalry there.” Bri found her question to be funny. Fear wasn’t something she experienced herself, but she craved other’s fears. Hunting hunters was dangerous from time to time, but it was rewarding work. There was a certain satisfaction that came with snuffing out someone who would choose to eliminate the supernatural altogether if they had the choice. As if they didn’t have the right to exist in their true nature. Whether it was safe was of little concern. Her body shifted as she shrugged and the light crack of twigs beneath her bare feet could be heard. “Nothing scares me. I’ve gotten hurt a few times, but I do not fear pain or death. They’re part of life. Most of the time, they don’t suspect someone is tracking them on their hunts and they don’t typically look for my kind.” While Bri felt righteous in her ways, she wasn’t quite sure how to accept the thanks. It didn’t feel like much. Jack had been easy enough to take down as a bear with the element of surprise. Her head shook slightly, “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather see you alive than Jack here.” She bent down to examine his body. The only part she really cared to save for herself was his teeth. She turned back to Morgan, “Would you care for his brain? I have little use for it.”

“Well...jinkies, Bri,” Morgan said, somewhat at a loss. “I guess that makes you the hero Gotham needs. And a heck of a lot better to look at than Batman.” A little wry humor always helped her keep her balanced on the edge when she thought she might fall over. And, well, this was as on the edge as she’d been since she’d died. Morgan dusted herself off again and backed away from the body. She’d had enough of a taste of what the hunter was capable of by feeling its wire rope around her. She didn’t want to know what his taste in music was, what sports he liked, how much of a person he’d been, and still hurt her like she was nothing. “I’m good,” she said. “I don’t...do that, not a lot, anyway. But I don’t think I’d want to feel someone like that inside of me anyways. Chop it up for the scavengers to eat, if you want it to go to use.” She swallowed thickly, searching for her footpath out and heading that way. “Even if you say I don’t owe you, I’ll find you, maybe? At the market, or...around. You’re a good person, you know. I hope there’s someone who looks out for you too.”

Bri blinked slowly. She had never really thought of herself as Batman. The only reason she’d even seen any of the films was because the Joker had a certain level of appeal though Harley Quinn was the far greater figure in the movie. She’d rather be Harley Quinn than Batman, but she supposed she could understand the comparison. “Thank you… I guess I am a bit of a vigilante of sorts. I would hope so, but then I don’t find men to be very… appealing to look at it.” She could hardly blame Morgan for not lowering herself to eat hunter brains. There had to be some sort of contagion for their staunch superiority complexes. Still, she felt the need to offer since the woman hadn’t gotten a proper meal. Then she was on about making it up to her. That wasn’t why she did this, but she wouldn’t mind seeing Morgan again. “You really don’t owe me, but I’d love to have you by the stand sometime. I can introduce you to my friend, Glen. His stand has some… things that may suit your appetite. Be safe out there, friend.”

#morgan #batbear to the rescue #wickedswriting

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