#The idea of marriage will literally not cross Bill's mind for years
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tswwwit · 1 day ago
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Are Portal Au Dipper and Bill going to "marry" eventually or are they going to be stuck at the boyfriend phase forever? Not that it makes that big of a difference but it's still interesting to know. If they do marry, is it an accident or on purpose?
They might! It's totally possible for them both to be perfectly happy being long-term boyfriends.
But if a marriage thing happens, it's gonna be on purpose.
And it would have to be Bill who proposes.
Dipper, as a human, would think of it first - socialization and all - but he wouldn't mention a Really Big Step forward that, in his mind, isn't something demons do. He's still on shaky ground when it comes to the whole 'does he really like me though' thing! As far as he knows, Bill could be confused by the very concept! Or disgusted, or disinterested, laugh at him for being such an idiot. Or worse, do it just to placate Dipper. Not because he wanted to. Just to shut his human up. No matter how interesting the idea sounds, it's clearly off the table.
Catch this man giving longing glances at the rings on someone else's hand, and telling himself he doesn't want that. He can't want that. He's got a great thing going. Everything's better than he imagined already, he should - Just be happy with what he has, damn it.
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rpersearch · 9 months ago
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I am a 30yrld female with 10+ years experience looking for FxF fandom games. Cannon X Canon characters preferred. But sometimes open to Canon x OC. I am literate and write novella length.
Age range: 21-38+ years old partners.
I don’t have a preference for my partners gender. Just looking for someone 20+ years old willing to play FxF fandom games.
Really looking for femslash games. I’m open to Omegaverse and soulmate tropes/themes.
I play romance and dark story themes.
Couples in red are cravings. The ideas listed are just SAMPLES! Not exclusive to the storylines I’d like to play.
Fall of the House of Usher (Camille/OFC)
- What if an Angel was protecting a woman who crossed paths with Camille and the angels protection kept Camille safe from her family’s curse. But only so long as this OFC loved Camille. Would Camille be able to ensure she did not lose that protection and be the type of woman worth loving?
Game of Thrones (Sansa / Daenerys with optional + Canon male character, Brienne/Sansa)
* Sansa and Daenerys are forced to marry to avoid war between the North and the United southern kingdoms under Daenerys’ banner.
* Sansa escapes Kings Landing with Ser Barristan and meets Daenerys in Mereen.
* Drogon flies all the way to Westeros after he leaves Danserys in the Dothraki Sea, and meets an ice Queen in need of saving.
The Witcher (Tissaia / Yennefer)
1. Ciri is Tissaia’s child of surprise, not Geralt’s. When it comes time for her to accept this, she seeks out assistance from the only powerful mage she knows that wants children, Yennefer.
2. Tissaia comes back to speak with Yennefer while she is still in Rhinde. She has found a possible cure for Yennefer’s barrenness.
3. Yennefer is the daughter of a king at of the Northen Kingdoms, that falls in love with her father’s mage, Tissaia de Vries.
4. Yennefer is doused with a lust potion gone wrong by the older classmates at Aretuza. She will lose her mind unless she sleeps with someone, but the idiots that doused her didn’t take her elven blood into account, and instead of a lust spell, she can only be satisfied by her truest match—her soul mate. Tissaia does not sleep with students. Even ones she’s fated to. But to save Yennefer’s life she will. But only if she and Yennefer never remember what’s happened.
5. Time travel write up for season 4. Yennefer goes back in time with the help of the monolith book to save Tissaia. But it’s like the butterfly effect. And Tissaia keeps dying.
Harry Potter (Hermione/Fleur, female!Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Pansy, Hermione/Bellatrix, Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Minerva, Minerva/Bellatrix)
* Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour found family. After the war, Bill dies in an accident, and Hermione and Ron have divorced. Two single mothers come together to lament their troubles and losses.
* Fleur realizes that Hermione is her true mate when she arrives hurt at the cottage after Malfoy Manner or being mates.
* Forced Marriage trope - repopulating wizarding England stipulates that all eligible and child baring women must marry. Except, it seems, Hermione Granger, who is protected under French Ministry law as she is the Delacour heir’s fated mate.
Twilight (Tanya/Leah, Bella/Rosalie, Bella/Tanya, Bella/Alice, Bella/Leah, Rosalie/Leah, Alice/Leah)
* Tanya has been looking for her mate for over a thousand years. She’s finally found them.
House of Dragons (Alicent / Rhaenyra)
* Rhaenyra runs away with Alicent
* Rhaenyra kills her father to ensure she is the one to marry Alicent
* Rhaenyra captures Alicent during the war and they reminisce on all that was—and could have been.
Like this post or message me and I’ll get in touch.
I prefer to play through discord but am open to email or google docs.
-
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rp-partnerfinder · 9 months ago
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I am a 30yrld female with 10+ years experience looking for FxF fandom games. Cannon X Canon characters preferred. But sometimes open to Canon x OC. I am literate and write novella length. 📚
Age range: 21-38+ years old partners.
I don’t have a preference for my partners gender. Just looking for someone 20+ years old willing to play FxF fandom games.
Really looking for femslash games. I’m open to Omegaverse and soulmate tropes/themes.
I play romance and dark story themes.
Couples in red are cravings. The ideas listed are just SAMPLES! Not exclusive to the storylines I’d like to play.
Fall of the House of Usher (Camille/OFC) —
What if an Angel was protecting a woman who crossed paths with Camille and the angels protection kept Camille safe from her family’s curse. But only so long as this OFC loved Camille. Would Camille be able to ensure she did not lose that protection and be the type of woman worth loving?
Game of Thrones (Sansa / Daenerys with optional + Canon male character, Brienne/Sansa)
Sansa and Daenerys are forced to marry to avoid war between the North and the United southern kingdoms under Daenerys’ banner.
Sansa escapes Kings Landing with Ser Barristan and meets Daenerys in Mereen.
Drogon flies all the way to Westeros after he leaves Danserys in the Dothraki Sea, and meets an ice Queen in need of saving.
The Witcher (Tissaia / Yennefer)
1. Ciri is Tissaia’s child of surprise, not Geralt’s. When it comes time for her to accept this, she seeks out assistance from the only powerful mage she knows that wants children, Yennefer.
2. Tissaia comes back to speak with Yennefer while she is still in Rhinde. She has found a possible cure for Yennefer’s barrenness.
3. Yennefer is the daughter of a king at of the Northen Kingdoms, that falls in love with her father’s mage, Tissaia de Vries.
4. Yennefer is doused with a lust potion gone wrong by the older classmates at Aretuza. She will lose her mind unless she sleeps with someone, but the idiots that doused her didn’t take her elven blood into account, and instead of a lust spell, she can only be satisfied by her truest match—her soul mate. Tissaia does not sleep with students. Even ones she’s fated to. But to save Yennefer’s life she will. But only if she and Yennefer never remember what’s happened.
5. Time travel write up for season 4. Yennefer goes back in time with the help of the monolith book to save Tissaia. But it’s like the butterfly effect. And Tissaia keeps dying.
Harry Potter (Hermione/Fleur, female!Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Pansy, Hermione/Bellatrix, Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Minerva, Minerva/Bellatrix)
Hermione Granger and Fleur Delacour found family. After the war, Bill dies in an accident, and Hermione and Ron have divorced. Two single mothers come together to lament their troubles and losses.
Fleur realizes that Hermione is her true mate when she arrives hurt at the cottage after Malfoy Manner or being mates.
Forced Marriage trope - repopulating wizarding England stipulates that all eligible and child baring women must marry. Except, it seems, Hermione Granger, who is protected under French Ministry law as she is the Delacour heir’s fated mate.
Twilight (Tanya/Leah, Tanya/OFC, Bella/Rosalie, Bella/Tanya, Bella/Alice, Bella/Leah, Rosalie/Leah, Alice/Leah)
Tanya has been looking for her mate for over a thousand years. She’s finally found them.
House of Dragons (Alicent / Rhaenyra)
Rhaenyra runs away with Alicent
Rhaenyra kills her father to ensure she is the one to marry Alicent
Rhaenyra captures Alicent during the war and they reminisce on all that was—and could have been.
Like this post or message me and I’ll get in touch. Let me know which fandom and couple and possible idea caught your attention.
I prefer to play through discord but am open to email or google docs.
.
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bleachluna · 4 months ago
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Hi! I'm a big BIG fan of your hitsukarin fics and I want to ask respectfully, are you planning to continue on Marriage Contract, Pulse, Inked or Memories? Not like I'm demanding or anything just wanted to see what are your thoughts on those stories, I really would love to see them finished but I understand it's up to you and I admire you so I respect your decisions ❤️
Hi! First of all thank you so much!! <3 I'm glad you like them :) To answer your question, kinda 50/50? I never want to leave a fic unfinished but sometimes things go like that anyway unfortunately, in an ideal world they would all get finished but I also don't want to give false hope! I will also say that things have been definitely been slower than usual in the past year, I ended up having a chronic illness flare in September that has taken a while to recover from because I've also had to balance work, bills, etc so that of course has meant I haven't been able to write as much as I would like. Also I said 50/50 but let me be more specific to each fic: Marriage Contract - Definitely getting continued! I've been working on and off on chapter 3 for the past couple of weeks when I can, I'm not sure exactly when it's getting updated as the chapter's not finished. But it will definitely get continued, I've got a lot of ideas for this particular fic and know roughly how I plan for it to go as well :) Inked - Is admittedly a maybe, but a strong maybe. Even though it's been literal years I find myself thinking about Inked quite a lot! I have possible plot points for it but haven't figured out a way to actually tie it all together :') I find Inked a challenge for me to work on because in all honesty it wasn't originally going to be a multi-chaptered fic but also I am simply not a criminal mastermind so it can be tough to figure how the plot, how the characters would react, what exactly is crossing the line for them, etc. It doesn't come as naturally as the cuter AUs :') I can't promise anything, but I am at the moment still intending to continue it, it'll just likely always be a slower fic to update Pulse - This one is less likely than the other two, and I can't see me updating it this year for example, but I do still have ideas and directions I'd want to take the story in. I don't think of this fic as much as I do the other two but it does still come to mind sometimes, and I do have ideas for a chapter 2 specifically. So I'd like to think it'll get updated at some point but it's unlikely to be soon and I wouldn't exactly hold your breath? But I would like to continue it at some point Memories - Out of these four Memories is the least likely to be continued in all honesty. I do have some ideas on what to do with it but nothing too solid? And truth be told if I'm motivated to write chances are it'll be one of the above fics or a oneshot instead, I don't have a ton of inspiration for Memories unfortunately. So yeah I wouldn't get your hopes up for a Memories update, but hey never say never, it's possible, but it is the least likely out of these four
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allforhader · 4 years ago
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Dream a Little Dream of Me
Bill Hader x (F) Reader
Requested By: @designersophisticate
Warnings: Langauge
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[ e/c : eye color]
Having those second thoughts after years of a commitment you thought was going to last until you’re buried six feet under...yeah. As much as that is dark. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone again.
“Hey, Y/N did you see that TMZ article?”
“Kristen the fact that you’re saying TMZ, I’m already disinterested”
“Well yeah. But if it’s about you, shouldn’t you read it?”
“What’s so interesting about my life that’s got TMZ all over it?” Y/N laughs at the thought because besides being a married successful actor, what interesting thing can they get?
“As much as TMZ isn’t the best source the fans should look at, this stuff can still hurt actors” Kristen states showing Y/N the article off her phone.
Y/F/N Y/L/N seen with Bill Hader without their significant others—Is there something there?
Y/N gave it a neutral look before handing Kristen her phone back. “Textbook rumor, hell. It was probably a teen that wrote that”
“Are you going to tell Bill or have him find out himself?”
“Knowing him and media, I’m gonna have to tell him” Y/N laughs before pulling up the article on her phone and sending it to Bill.
Bill: Wow. Haha, that’s a textbook rumor
Y/N: Thats what I told Kristen lol
Bill: So...You’re already in New York for SNL Saturday right?
Y/N: Right?
Bill: You want to grab drinks? Night before of course
Before Y/N can say anything more she stops herself from replying when her husband texted her. A smile formed on her face loving that he did but there’s so much more to it...
Evan: Hey baby!
Evan: Hope New York ain’t that humid like it is here. Honestly if it weren’t for our careers, we would totally be in a colder state. Can’t stand the heat
Evan: but yknow. LA is home lol
Evan: Speaking of LA, TMZ made a ridiculous article lmao. If I didn’t know already that you and Bill are just friends, I’d be worried. But again...It’s TMZ
Evan: Anyway! I love you
Y/N: I love you too
Bill frowns seeing she hasn’t responded and feels like he’s come on a little strong when...it’s just drinks.
“Hey, you gotta get going or you’ll miss your flight” Maggie smiles handing Bill his coat before he left.
He of course kisses his wife goodbye, but the lingering feeling in his chest grew.
When Bill was in the air he decided to shoot a text to Y/N indicating that he invited their friends but Y/N didn’t receive it. Reception and everything. But—
Y/N: I’d love to
was sent before Bill’s when his plane landed and he didn’t realize until it sent.
Bill: I invited Kate, Kenan, Fred, and Kristen...John is a maybe and Seth isn’t going to be in town.
“Shit. Should’ve—-fuck” Bill frowns waiting in baggage claim when Fred scared the man out of the blue. Even if Bill did know he was his ride.
Y/N sat in her hotel room staring at the text for a minute before checking the time and suddenly getting a semi crazy idea.
Y/N: You told me the other day you got a late flight...wondering if you want to order in some room service at my hotel room. If you’re not tired
Bill: Fred picked me up from the airport if you don’t mind him tagging along
Y/N: More the merrier :)
More the merrier...
After arrival and ordering in, Fred and Bill had already started to argued with each other about true crimes as Y/N sat back watching the two go back and forth. She laughs as she drinks her wine.
“So does it always end with her snapping?”
“No but when she snaps-“
“She snaps”
“Okay” Y/N laughs setting down her glass as Bill couldn’t help but smile enjoying her laugh.
“Well. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you two tomorrow” Fred got up giving Bill a look before leaving the two alone.
“Damn and I was just starting to enjoy your talk about true crime. I’m more into medical dramas”
“Like Grey’s?”
“Oh definitely Grey’s” Y/N smiles laughing as Bill moves himself beside her on the bed leaning against the headboard. “Did you even start it when I recommended it to you?”
“Okay I got up to season...eight and that is a shitton of Drama for me to handle”
“And yet you watch Snapped like it’s something you can’t live without”
“Ok ok...Snapped. Is the greatest show that I don’t even have a valid reason to explain why I like it so much.” Bill states looking over at Y/N as he...found himself lost in a thought.
Can’t really say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. What if my life would’ve been different if I met Y/N before I got married? It clearly would’ve been different but would life have gone the same route as it is now...I’m lucky. Fuck. Lucky she’s in my life as it is...just
Friday rehearsals went by fast, Bill got a kick out of watching Y/N take off the liquid latex off her eyebrows. He laughs as he hands her the makeup wipes to get off the residue. Y/N rolls her eyes flicking Bill in the forehead for laughing at her.
“Y/N, John is looking for you. Wants to run lines again” Fred smiles watching Y/N clean up a bit before going to find John.
“Didn’t John leave before the rest of us?”
“Yeah but I wanted a minute to ask you”
“Ask me what?”
“I don’t know. Guess I’m stalling” Fred wasn’t stalling, he honestly wanted to be nosey asking if anything more happened when he was gone. He didn’t think exactly that. But the thought did cross his mind. “Uh. So about drinks tonight. That’s still down?”
“You really has to ask without Y/N present? Yeah it’s still down” Bill laughs patting Fred’s back before grabbing his things.
Soon the gang was hitting the bar late and really just enjoying each other’s time. Fred handed Kristen and Y/N their drinks as Kenan handed Kate and Bill theirs.
“You owe new a game of darts Fred”
“You are so on” Fred laughs at Kenan as he immediately got up from the booth.
“So Y/N, how’s your life in LA?” Kate smiles. “I have a role down there and wanted to know if there’s anything worth it”
“Well if you’ve in LA as long as I have, it’s pretty much worth seeing everything. When you have the time of course” Y/N smiles taking a sip of her wine catching Bill’s gaze on her which instantly made him look away.
“None of us have been in LA as long as you have. Literally. The phrase that “no one is from LA” is true when it comes to you” Kristen smiles watching Y/N shrug. “What’s stopping you from leaving?”
“Yeah, and don’t say career. Because you can easily live here and become a full on regular for SNL. Also get a few gigs here” Kate states as Y/N rolls her eyes smiling.
“I would do anything to get out of LA...but yknow. My husband is the reason.”
“God I hate that” Bill says out of the blue catching all three of them staring at him as he quickly downs his scotch. “Um. Y’know. If they really love and support you. You can do anything. But if they don’t...”
“They aren’t the one for yeah” John cuts in sliding into the booth beside Y/N. “Sorry for coming late. Had to get a few last minute ideas run by Lorne”
“You’re all good. But Kenan and Fred have beat you to the dart board”
“Shit. I call winner, re-fills?” John asks catching a nod from everyone but Y/N. “Want a new drink or?”
“Or...I’m gonna walk back to my hotel. Not feeling that great”
“Already? Damn...well at least get drinks with me when I’m in LA?”
“Of course Kate, see you guys tomorrow” Y/N smiles grabbing her coat and leaving the booth.
Bill watches her go giving John a look as he shrugs pointing with his eyes. He immediately got up going to catch up with her. She wasn’t far...but he hesitated for a second.
“They aren’t the one for yeah” Thanks John. I’ll be thinking about that for the rest of my life. Or well...the rest of my marriage.
Y/N froze when she heard fast movement behind her indicating the short run Bill made. She looks at him confused as he gave her a concerned look.
“We...are in the same hotel. Want to walk with me?”
“Yeah..I do” Bill states catching a very light tint of pink growing on Y/N’s cheeks as she quickly looked away. “Um. Are you only leaving because of what I said?” he asks as they started walking side by side.
Yes. Because...well what am I supposed to say to you? I can’t live to you. You’re one of my best friends. Someone I can be honest with. But you...make my mind go blank for a good minute. Forgetting that I’m married. Married to someone I’m just trying to make it work with at this point...I love Evan don’t get me wrong...but god what would I do—
“Uh. Can I lie saying it didn’t bug me?”
“So it bugged you”
“Little bit”
“I’m sorry” Bill frowns wishing he didn’t say it at all or let his emotions be a factor in it all.
“Be honest with me?”
“Always”
“Are you and Maggie okay? Because there....um. Must’ve been more to it personally than the obvious” But what’s the obvious? That I’m in love with you? Shit.
“Well, she loves me. I love her. But...the feeling is mutual. We haven’t talked about it entirely but when...the spark dies. It dies” Bill said bluntly making Y/N think too hard about what he just said. She didn’t want to feel bad, a part of her felt differently. “We really just yknow what to get everything in order before officially”
“Yeah no...I get it. Well. Yeah I do. I get it” Y/N frowns before flinching to the sudden boom.
Bill looks at Y/N freak a tad to the boom which was the sound of thunder. It’s not New York without one day of rain. Let alone lightening. He instantly wraps his arm around her out of instinct directing her under an awning.
“Should’ve...taken a cab”
“Mm. We can make it. If you trust me out in the rain”
“If we get electrocuted. It’s God hating me” Fuck.
I trust him.
I know she trusts me.
He wouldn’t have said that...if there wasn’t something.
She doesn’t like talking about Evan. Could there...
There’s something else
Fuck. Be true.
I’m...Ive been....
After all these years...I can’t just call her a friend.
“Fuck. Even in a jacket I’m soaking....fuck” Y/N was shaking but not because of the rain. Being afraid of thunder is a completely different story that she didn’t have the time to explain, when her mind is wondering.
“Come on...you should get out of the wet clothes” Bill says as he rests his hand on her cheek catching her gaze. Her beautiful e/c eyes looking up at him catching a whole other feeling.
After getting out of her wet clothes, Y/N opens her hotel room door looking up at a very distressed Bill. She frowns letting him in and once the door closed, he turned back to her taking her face into his hands kissing her.
I shouldn’t have done that.
...mutual
Fuck
Y/N shortly after pushed Bill off giving him a worried look before suddenly laughing and breaking down into tears. I’m sorry.
“Y/N—“
“I-...God. You have no idea Bill Hader. No fucking idea”
“What do you mean?” Bill frowns trying to comfort her but Y/N retracted herself.
“I feel so out of place here. Like. God. You drive me insane! And I don’t mean in a negative way. It’s never in a negative way. I’m just—-terrified!” Y/N laughs as she choked up on her tears. “I’m...I’ve been in love with you ever since we got close. But I’m married—you’re married—-and adultery is a fucking....sin? Hell I’m not religious but it is! Like Bill don’t get me wrong” She states resting her hands on his chest looking up at him as he continued to have a worried look. “I...I want to be with you. But I can’t...can’t do that to Evan.”
Bill watches her continue to cry as he takes in a deep breath before exhaling and resting his hands on her cheeks making her look at her. “It’s terrifying...falling in love again...especially to someone who has already locked that down. You’re...not alone in that boat. And I....I don’t want to give you an ultimatum or whatever the right word is called but...”
But?
“I’m willing to wait until the end of my lifetime to be with you. I know the next chapter in my life and my wife is on the same page. But the one after that...I’m willing to wait forever if I have to. If it means being with you. I’m not going to force you Y/N. You mean the world to me, but I don’t want to hurt you for eternity by forcing you”
And that’s that. He said that and Y/N took it to heart. Knowing exactly the next thing she does.
Is her choice.
The two haven’t seen each other in six months the after that SNL night, let alone talk to each other. Bill got a divorce, and he has set time for himself until he got a role at the end of that six month period heading straight for New York. Pretty common place for movies to be shot but he didn’t want to go anywhere crazy at that moment. Stepping onto set first day meeting the people you’ll be working with for months wasn’t a hard thing to do, but being handed a physical script that has the character list within it. Bill took his seat at the table read opening the script and reading-
“Hey Hader” Y/N smiles sitting beside him setting down her copy of the script and her tea. “It’s been a while”
“It has...you cut your hair” Bill smiles admiring the new look of hers. Y/N shot him a smile before elbowing him.
“Working out for Barry still Huh?” Y/N smiles catching a laugh as Bill nods crossing his arms. “You’re perfect no matter what. Y’know that right?”
“I do, do you?”
“Of course” Y/N smiles as the two straighten up when it got time for the actual read.
Afterward...
“You have a ride?”
“Rental”
“Oh shit. Hold on. Did you pay for a hotel room yet?” Y/N asks confusing the fuck out of Bill as she laughs at the confused look. “Just answer it Bill”
“Not yet. I just got in to be honest”
“Stay with me then” Y/N smiles. “I live in a loft on 408 Greenwich Street...it’s not that far and I have plenty of room”
“Lead the way?” Bill tosses her his keys as Y/N smiles nodding.
She’s...still the same happy girl when he first met her. Even if they both been through a lot the past six months. A lot has changed but the one thing Bill worried about...hasn’t changed. Because she doesn’t want their relationship to change until...then
Bill looks out into the street from her loft’s window. It’s not that bad of a neighborhood. Makes him wonder if it’s ever crazy loud at night or if it’s safe. He wants her to be safe.
“So, how long have you been here?”
“Uh. A month. But I put a down payment two months ago. It’s nice right? Not too big. Not too small. Just right...” Y/N smiles walking over standing beside him. “How are you? How’s everything in LA?”
“I’m good. Everything is good” Bill smiles. “And you? Evan?”
“Well, the decision wasn’t mutual. But it brought more things to light. So...Yknow. It was a matter of time” Y/N shrugs. “But hey. We are finalizing it. He’s still in LA and I’m here. Kinda...starting over. Turning a new leaf” she laughs at how that can sound but he understood. He understood completely.
“So, I know...the wound is still fresh. But baby steps huh?”
“Yeah” Y/N smiles taking his hand into hers feeling him gently squeeze. “Baby steps”
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lihikainanea · 4 years ago
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Vibe of the Week 09/08
First of all, step aside Bill, because you’re not the most important Leo in my life.
A big, huge, resounding happy birthday to the King of my family--my old man. He’s the greatest dude I know. He can fix seriously anything, he has guided me my whole life, he’s a phenomenal story teller and he’s just....he’s the best guy I know. I have high standards in men because my dad has loved my mom so intensely for their entire marriage (44 years and counting), and he still does. He buys her flowers. He writes her songs. They have date nights every week.
August, and particularly the first 10 days in August, are so weird for me. I have so much history and it’s all in sequence--a past love, his birthday was August 7. Bill’s is the 9th. Pop’s is the 10th. There’s more but it’s just...man, that Leo energy. It exhausts me.
Last week we talked a bit about embracing the change that’s coming, starting to reap the harvest for our efforts. The universe gave us a bit of a break.
This week’s Oracle deck is the Shaman Wisdom Cards, and the Tarot is the Llewellyn Wizards Tarot deck (which like, look, I love these cards--but I cannot even express how much I HATE the design on the back. It is so fucking obnoxious. Why would you design something that bright for these cards? Ugh I hate it.)
The Oracle card this week is Agate:
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The affirmation: Adapt to the situation and communicate your intentions
Words to meditate on: Courage, brave, recognition, abundance, growth, balance
This is quite a lovely card. It’s the striking of the match--something is being lit up here, and you’re about to be stimulated in a million different ways--love, relationships, creativity. Something here is lighting your interest, and there’s a lovely sense of rejuvenation. The cards are not kicking our ass anymore this week (thank you, cards). This card speaks of collaboration, of group work, of fulfillment, a sense of community. Deeper than that, a loss of individual self (the good kind), where the “I” becomes the “we” and we’re all stronger for it. Fortifying your group, man. WHERE MY BITCHES AT.
For the Tarot this week, I did a Celtic cross spread just for something different. Also, I am so determined to master a riffle shuffle which I cannot do to save my life. I’m awful at it.
Anyway:
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1)  Page of Wands
2)  Seven of Pentacles
3) Ten of Wands
4) King of Pentacles
5) King of Swords
6) King of Cups
7) Six of Cups
8) Queen of Cups
9) Eight of Cups
10) Eight of Wands
Overarching theme: The Empress (Major Arcana)
Okay so look, a few things here. First of all, as far as spreads go, you can’t get more meh than this.
Second of all, I get bummed when I don’t see a Major in a spread but I had forgotten to pull the overarching theme card and when I did, MY GIRL THE EMPRESS answering my call.
Interesting that last week, we also had a Major Arcana as the overarching theme (The Hanged Man). You know what other Major appeared last week?
My girl’s boo, the Emperor.
Now, third and final point before we dive in: Christ on a cracker, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS OVERABUNDANCE OF MASCULINE ENERGY? My god, Leo season is just...it’s just so...Leo. My dudes, tuck it back in. Stop trying to pee on everything and stake your claim to it. It’s gonna be okay, guys. No need to be all alpha male about everything.
Alright here we go, buckle the fuck up because....ugh, Leo.
First impressions: All of the Suits represented in near perfect balance, which could mean harmony or like...a fucking battle. We’ll see.
The Empress - overarching theme
My badass bish. Abundance. Nourishment, but of the soul kind. A burst of creativity and passion, a rejuvenation in life.
1)  Page of Wands - the situation right now
A willingness to learn. Something is exciting you here, some new prospect that has you wanting to absorb everything you can and act on it, but a bit of ego and lack of confidence might be holding you back. You’re stuck on yourself, not letting yourself move forward.
2)  Seven of Pentacles-- the conflict
Getting in your own way is alright sometimes, because you’re evaluating. You’re laying out all your options, reflecting on it. What strikes me here is you’re weighing value in some capacity--like, is it worth it to pursue this? Because whatever it is, it seems to come at a high enough cost (actual, or figurative) to have you taking a step back. And this is actually quite remarkable, because in Leo season we’re all just fucking roaring and ready to jump head first into anything--but not this. Not here and not now. There’s such careful deliberation, and that’s okay.
3)  Ten of Wands - the atmosphere around the situation
Burdens, obligations, responsibilities. Just because we want something very badly doesn’t mean it’s going to work out for us--previous obligations and responsibilities, our role in our lives and the lives of others--these are very real things which make our wants and dreams not a possibility in our immediate future. Sometimes the timing is just bad.
It also...it also looks a bit like you’ve been burned here before. You know this tale. It ended differently for you last time. You wanted something, were passionate about something, went after it with everything you had (like you’re supposed to) and man did you fall on your face. Hard enough that it stayed with you, that feeling stayed with you.
4)  King of Pentacles - the base of the matter, what is really behind the drive
balanced, practical, cautious, generous. My boo, you want stability. You are chasing something so hard because it will bring you stability, reassurance, in a way that you need and in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time.
5) King of Swords - past influences
Oh bubs, somebody done you wrong. You thought you had what you needed before--and god again I’m a little taken aback at how masculine this reading is, boys are so dumb--somebody tricked you. Somebody knew what you needed, what you craved--authority, stability, communication, logic. A manipulator roped you in knowing that you needed all those things, and they provided them to you--for a short while, and on a superficial level. But you were so desperate for what you needed, that you took it.
And it burned you. So now, you’re focusing this fight internally--you are out here like a Queen, trying to be this force for you. YAAAAAAS.
6) King of Cups - forthcoming influences
You’re getting there, boo. Whether or not this is someone who Is going to enter your life, or if this is just you coming into your own....I’m not sure. The cards ain’t telling me. But it is showing me that the forthcoming influence is BALANCE, and channeling that masculine energy. The energy of being assertive but not rude, the energy of balancing emotional needs with rational thought, just...balance balance balance. Evenness. Kindness.
Finding ways to give your heart what it needs, while also leaving space for responsibility, rational thought, and growth boo. GROWTH.
And like, I am most definitely not one of those people like “love is coming to you” but like....babe it kinda looks like it is?
It doesn’t have to be a dude if you don’t bat for that team. It could be somebody who embodies all of the best characteristics and traits that we deem masculine.
7) Six of Cups-- in the “bitch where the fuck am I” position
You’re back refocused on the little things that matter. If we’re talking romantically, think of how like....a huge weekend getaway to a private vineyard somewhere in the countryside that took a lot of planning and is just this wild gesture of passionate love--that’s sweet, right? That feels nice.
But a small note on the coffee machine when you wake up, that says “You’re going to do great today, I love you” referencing a meeting that you mentioned to your significant like a week ago and said you were nervous for it. That...man, it’s the little things.
Right now, you’re coming back to centre. You’re reeling your scope back in, and you’re determining what really matters to you.
But there’s also a bit of caution here, in those small gestures--small gestures can alter our future in literally every single way. Be mindful of your actions, and their impact. Don’t be haunted by your past, but also...kid, don’t be nostalgic for it. This is so not the time.
8) Queen of Cups - the view of others
Ohhhh isn’t this a trick. Ha, lookit that Queen. This is how others view you, bubs. As this powerhouse badass woman who is in complete control at all times, reserved yet cut throat, elegant yet deadly. People view you as a person of envy, someone who always seems to have it all together.
9) Eight of Cups - hopes and fears
You’re worried that this quest or this search you’re on, this need to feel something in your past but in a much better, more fulfilling way....you’re worried it doesn’t exist. You’re worried that what you seek isn’t actually out there. You hope it is--but there’s enough doubt in you (hello! Get the fuck back there, past experiences and stay the fuck there!) that you’re terrified.
Your journey can’t be explained logically. And this is that fucking Leo sun shit, you know? If it ain’t logical or practical, then it either 1) doesn’t exist, and/or 2) you shouldn’t go anywhere near it.
Fuck that Leo side of everything.
What you seek is out there. It is not rational, but it doesn’t have to be rational to be real. The heart has reasons that even REASON doesn’t understand.
What you seek is out there, and it’s yours to find. Go.
10) Eight of Wands - Potential outcome
Listen, I love this idea of serendipity. Of self fulfilling prophecies. Because this card...mmm, what a phenomenal card to end on.
The very fact that you are out there and that you had the courage to seek this out, means that 1) it exists, and 2) that you will find it.
You taking the action of following your heart is going to set into motion a whole series of karmic reactions that you will also need on your journey. This card is travel, it’s communication, it’s a satisfying journey, it’s the jackpot. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, you keep following that heart of yours, and result will be what you expect it to be.
tl;dr: fuck this Leo energy. You do you boo, stay gentle.
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anubislover · 5 years ago
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“A Heart to be Used as Needed” Chapter 2
Of all the things Law hated about being Doflamingo’s right-hand man, dressing the part was near the top of the list. The black feathered jacket was a painful reminder of the man who had tried and failed to save him from his psychotic brother’s clutches. It didn’t matter whether he wore an expensive suit or stark naked underneath, the mantle weighed on his shoulders like Seastone shackles.
Once Joker was dead, he’d take great pleasure in burning the damn thing.
Rolling up the sleeves of his mustard yellow dress shirt, he took a deep, fortifying breath, mentally reminding himself that it would all be over once he crushed the Heavenly Demon’s twisted heart beneath the heel of his boot. Lazy, arrogant smirk firmly in place, he firmly knocked on the throne room door, respectfully waiting for his boss’ leave before sauntering in.
“Doffy,” Law greeted, hand raised in a casual wave, “I hear you had to crush Baby-ya’s dreams of wedded bliss again.”
“Aw, come on, kid,” Doflamingo chuckled, pouring them both a generous glass of brandy. The red glow of the setting sun glinted off his sunglasses, his wide grin full of maniacal humor. “I was doing her a favor! You should have seen her latest ‘groom’; the guy had more wrinkles than Lao G!”
The Dark Doctor laughed, accepting the crystal snifter. As much as he loathed sharing a friendly drink with the man, he could at least appreciate that Joker never compromised on the alcohol’s quality. He made a mental note to pour some into the bastard’s open wounds before he killed him. “I believe you! She really does have horrible taste, doesn’t she?”
“Fuffuffuffuffu, you got that right! It was kind of cute, at first, but’s starting to lose its charm.”
“And here I’d assumed you considered androcide a hobby.”
Flopping backwards into a large, plush chair, Doflamingo crossed his long legs with a shrug, taking a sip of his own drink. The chair would have been a loveseat for an average human, but the former World Noble’s massive frame basically turned it into an armchair. “Eh, killing those guys is too easy to be any real fun, and it just about breaks my heart seeing her cry over it.”
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t see her earlier; poor thing was an absolute wreck when she came sobbing into my lab. Completely ruined my shirt. Maybe I should remove her tear ducts.”
That earned him a sharp cackle. “While you’re at it, see if you could surgically insert some goddamn standards. I swear, each new ‘boyfriend’ is worse than the last. This time, I actually had to use my powers she was so bent out of shape! She needs to realize that I’m looking out for her best interests. None of those peons deserved her.”
Swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully, Law lounged in the Heart Seat. For all its red velvet cushions, the gaudy throne felt no more comfortable than it had when he’d first been shackled to it at fourteen, but after ten years, it was easier to pretend. “Honestly, I couldn’t agree more. The problem is, she’d got this idea in her head that marriage will make her happy, and with her compulsion to be needed, she jumps at every perceived proposal she hears. After all, what could a man possibly need more than wife?” he asked sarcastically.
“Well, that’s a spot-on diagnosis, doc; you got any suggestions for a cure?”
Taking a swig of brandy, he savored the silken burn as it slid down his throat. It was well-aged and smooth, with a few notes of smoke and sweetness; the perfect drink to accompany his plan. “I do,” Law replied with a grin, setting aside his snifter to lace his fingers together. “Let her get married to a man of your choosing.”
Doflamingo sat up straighter in his seat, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. “Are you fucking kidding me, Law?”
Despite the sharp edge of anger in his boss’ tone, the young Corazon simply smiled. “Not at all. As much as she wants to get married, she desperately craves your approval. If you chose her next beau, she’d be absolutely over the moon and we can put all this nonsense to rest.”
“Well, unfortunately, there’s no one worthy of our little Baby 5,” he said stubbornly, crossing his arms and hunching over in an exaggerated pout like a spoiled child who’d been told to share his toys.
“No, but you could at least pair her with someone you trust,” he coaxed. Though psychotic and selfish, after over a decade working for the man, Law knew how to gently lure him to the conclusion he desired. “Someone who wouldn’t take advantage of her. Someone who could reign her in and ensure her loyalty never strays from the Family. Specifically, someone to keep her in the Family.”
Intrigued, the giant man relaxed in his throne. “Ah, now I get it. Fuffuffuffuffu, you had me worried for a sec! I should have known you’d never try to drive Baby away from us. A sweet, precious little thing like her needs our protection.”
Yes, the woman who can turn into a literal arsenal needs protecting, Law thought sarcastically, though his smile never faltered. “I’d never even consider such a thing. You know I’ve got a soft spot for her, Doffy; we’ve been friends since childhood.”
“A soft spot is right! I’ve seen you rip out Giolla’s heart just for commenting on how tired you look, but when Baby slaps you, at worse she gets dismembered for a few hours. I’ve never even had to order you to put her back together.”
“That’s because unlike Giolla, Baby 5’s disrespectful outbursts come from a place of love, like a mother scolding an uppity child.” Allowing his expression to soften, Law absently gazed out the window as he continued, “On top of that, her compassionate displays bank up enough good karma that I can’t stay mad for long. After all, no one else brings me onigiri or bullies me to get some sleep when I’ve been cooped up in my lab for days. So yeah, if it keeps someone else from getting their filthy hands on her, I’d gladly give her the wedding of her dreams.”
Stretching his long arms before linking the fingers behind his head, Doflamingo sniggered. “How sweet. Ok, I’ll bite; who would you suggest as the groom? Pica? Buffalo?”
Though he kept his expression strategically banal, inside Law was crowing. Joker was reacting exactly as he’d predicted, and he’d already prepared a response for every man he might suggest. “Pica’s too volatile and Buffalo’s almost as impulsive as she is. She needs someone who can handle her violent mood swings and bring her to heel. Besides, I’d hate to waste such a beauty on them.”
“Harsh, but fair. Hate to say it, but that really limits our options. Vergo fits the bill, but he’s a bit preoccupied with the Navy, and I can’t trust that she wouldn’t run off to be with him and blow his cover.” Rubbing his chin, Doflamingo mentally ran down his list of subordinates. “How about Senor Pink? Baby 5 and the guy who dresses like a baby!” he laughed, tongue lolling out.
Internally scowling at the bad joke, Law shook his head. “The man’s dressed like that to honor his late wife for years; remarrying won’t do his mental state any favors, nor hers.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right. Gladius?”
“I don’t trust that he wouldn’t blow her up if they got into an argument. Baby-ya’s feisty, and I doubt he’d show the same restraint I do if she ever slapped him.”
The shichibukai raised an eyebrow at the nickname. It had been an intentional slip, something to lead Joker to the conclusion he needed. “Kid, quit beating around the bush. Fun as it is acting like a pair of matchmaking old biddies, you never would have suggested this if you didn’t already have someone in mind. Out with it.”
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Law finally stated, “Me.”
This time, there was no laughter from Doflamingo. No snide comment. Just a tense pause as the two pirates stared each other down.
“You’re serious.”
“I am. I’ll even say it plainly; I want Baby 5.”
Uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees, he scoffed at his Corazon. “Law, you’ve always been a realist; you know you’ve only got so many years left to live, and you’ve acted accordingly.” Recalling the first time he’d taken his young protégée to a gentleman’s club, he chuckled. He’d felt like a proud papa watching the teen saunter off to one of the private rooms with a beautiful woman on each arm and a damn attractive man in tow. By the time they left the next morning, none of Law’s partners had been in any state to move. “When you’re not down in your lab, you’re fucking whoever you please. Hell, even I’m impressed with the number of notches on your belt at your age! So, considering how marriage tends to clash with your lifestyle, what’s got you suddenly looking to settle down?” he asked, blonde eyebrow raised in suspicion.
This was where Law would have to tread carefully. He knew how out-of-character his proposal seemed; on top of regularly inviting scantily dressed partners to his chambers, everyone knew that if Trafalgar Law vanished suddenly, he’d reappear in no more than a week, hungover and reeking of sex, drugs, and blood. In reality, though the sex was a great stress-reliever, those wild benders also gave him the perfect cover whenever he had to disappear for a few days to carry out one of the more clandestine aspects of his plan. A committed relationship, much less marriage, would put a damper on that.
Yet if it led to the Heavenly Demon’s painful and humiliating downfall, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Staring at his glass in contemplation, Law replied, “I’ve been thinking about the future. The Perennial Youth surgery has been difficult to research, and even harder to practice, but I’m confident that I’ll figure it out in due time. After everything you’ve done for me, I owe you that much. But that’s got me wondering; eternal youth isn’t the same as immortality. You could, theoretically, still be killed. Possibly even get sick or poisoned. Unfortunately, I won’t be there to help you, and genius like mine is hard to come by. So, why not pass down my genetics and ensure you’ll still have a medical prodigy even after I’m gone? Maybe even your next Corazon?”
“And you want to have that with Baby 5?”
“She’s gorgeous, biddable, and feisty enough to not bore me. More than that, with her unfortunate childhood, I can guarantee she’ll be a doting and protective mother yet won’t stand in your way when you choose to take the kid under your wing. Really, I couldn’t ask for a better option.”
Law could see the wheels in Doflamingo’s head turning. He’s chosen his words very carefully—fatherhood might potentially give the doomed doctor something to live for, but it just as easily created an exploitable weakness. A baby would give Joker extra leverage, something to hold hostage or threaten should the Surgeon of Death appear to have second thoughts about performing the surgery.
Of course, Law had no intention of producing such an asset. He’d sterilize himself and Baby 5 if need be. No child of his would be twisted in Joker’s sick image.
The Heavenly Demon studied him thoughtfully, his gaze intense even through his sunglasses, chin resting on his entwined fingers. “That’s all true, but I’m surprised; with how long you’ve known each other, I’d assumed you thought of her like a sister or something.”
The Dark Doctor’s grin was lecherous, gold eyes hooded as he replied, “I can assure you, I’d never think of my sister the way I’ve thought about Baby-ya.”
“It’s the maid outfit, isn’t it?” he chortled, tongue lolling out to sweep lewdly across his lips. “And here I’d thought you had a thing for nurses.”
Smug, lecherous grin in place, Law winked. “Oh, those are nice, but my real kink is short uniforms and obedience.”
“And Baby 5 has an abundance of both. That doesn’t mean I’m on board with this. No offense, but you’re not the type of guy I trust to respect the bonds or marriage.” Though he remained smiling, there was little pleasure in the expression—more like a threatening baring of teeth. “If you cheated on her, I’d have to start removing some pretty specific body parts, and don’t think I’d let you reattach them.”
It was a vivid, yet not unexpected threat, so Law didn’t even flinch. Instead, he donned a playful grin. “Oh, come on, Doffy; haven’t I been a good boy? You’ve been dressing her up like a pinup since we hit puberty, parading her around like the most delicious forbidden fruit I could imagine, and I never so much as took a bite because I respected your authority. I mean, with how obsessed you’ve been with keeping her pure as virgin snow, part of me assumed you were saving her for yourself.”
It was a dangerous idea to put in the shichibukai’s head, but one Law didn’t trust Vergo or Trebol not to suggest just to spite their fellow executive. It was no secret that the Club Seat and former Corazon held no shortage of jealousy towards him, and if they had any idea that he coveted Baby 5, whether they knew his ultimate plan or not, they’d do their best to interfere. This way, he could at least nudge Doflamingo away from such thoughts.
As he considered it, his threatening expression relaxed. With a single gulp he finished off his glass of brandy, grabbing the bottle to pour himself a generous refill. “Yeah, I’ve thought about doing her.” Lounging against the couch, his lips stretched into a lecherous grin, long tongue swiping over his gleaming teeth. “Hot little thing like that, all bright eyes and tasty curves…but Baby gets attached too easily. Fucking her means your bachelor lifestyle is dead, since she’d probably kill any other woman you even looked at.”
Pleased that his plan was still on track, Law felt the tension in his spine melt away. “Exactly; I’m not blind to what I’m getting into. Hell, I thought you’d be thrilled—since I won’t be wasting time chasing tail, I’ll be able to devote more of it to my research. No need for week-long benders when I’ve got wifey waiting for me at home.”
Leaning back, Doflamingo threaded his fingers together in thought. “Alright, Law, say I am considering your proposal; I’ve got a few stipulations.”
“Name them.”
“One, if you’re insisting on marrying her, you’re gonna be the best damn husband she could ask for. No cheating, fucking about, or even flirting with men, women, or anyone else. And definitely no more drug-fueled benders—gotta set a good example for the kids, right?”
“Of course.” Much as he did enjoy his bursts of rebellious freedom, he’d easily made peace with giving it up. The drugs had long lost their thrill, barely even having an effect on him anymore. Violence he could still enjoy in the lab or even on missions for Joker. As for the sex…
With how eager to please Baby 5 was, he doubted it would even take long to train her up to be the perfect lover, submissive and pliant, ready for him whenever he desired. On top of having her warm his bed every night, it’d be so easy to call her down to the lab and put that hot little mouth to use, or corner her in a dark hallway for a quickie.
“Two, I’m gonna need your timeline for getting me Law 2.0.”
The request pulled Law from his lustful thoughts, reminding him to focus on the task at hand. “Though I’m sure she’s plenty fertile on her own, I have plans to develop a drug to increase the chance of twins; that way, the odds will be in our favor of getting another medical genius. On top of that, I need to study mine and Baby-ya’s genetic material and physiologies to ensure our Devil Fruit powers won’t cause any unexpected complications. Should her transformations affect her uterus, I’ll have to demand she not be given any assassination missions for the duration of her pregnancies.”
“So how long are you saying you need to knock her up?”
This time the smug, lecherous grin on his face was completely genuine. “I mean, I’m not going to wait to start fucking her—if I’m expected to be faithful, she’s going to do her wifely duties. But I won’t start the fertility treatments until at least a year in, when I’m confident we’ll have the results we want.”
“If you’re in no rush to put a baby in Baby, why do you want to marry her now?”
He rolled his eyes, but his lips softened with the barest hint of affection. “Because it’s Baby 5; we take our eyes off her for a moment, and she might actually wise up and elope. I mean, I’m completely willing to murder whatever shit-stain tricked her into running off, but then she’ll be all pissed and that tends to put a damper on a relationship.”
“Ok, fair point.” He rubbed his chin, looking heavenwards in consideration. “I’m guessing you’ll probably want a few years with the kid before you perform my surgery, right?”
“Just for the sake of being sure I am leaving you with a genius,” he assured, hands up in surrender. “I showed signs of being a medical prodigy by the age of three, and I’m happy to impregnate Baby-ya as many times as necessary to hedge our bets.”
“Fuffuffuffuffu! The way you’re talkin’ I might end up with a whole herd of Trafalgar rug rats running around!”
“Hey, the Family did a good job raising us and Dellinger. I trust you’ll turn my children into fine, upstanding members of society once I’m gone.”
The two glanced at each other, then shared a hearty laugh.
“Ok, ok, fine; I can wait a few years for Corazon Jr.,” Doflamingo chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “And I appreciate you stacking the odds in my favor. You’re good at planning shit, Law, so I trust you to do whatever it takes to get me at least one genius.”
“Happy to hear it,” he responded, linking his hands behind his head and relaxing in his chair. The Heart Seat was still mockingly uncomfortable, but bit by bit he was getting closer to his chance to reduce the damn thing to ash.
Three long fingers were held up as Doflamingo’s grin became more mischievous. “Which brings me to my third stipulation: trust. If you want me to trust that you’re serious about this whole marriage deal, I’m going to need you to prove it.”
“How?” Law asked, curious but unconcerned.
“You propose to Baby 5, and I’ll throw you the wedding of the century. Flowers, music, not a crumb of bread at the reception—you name it and I’ll pay for it. But the engagement will last at least a month. In that entire time, you’re as celibate as a monk—no fucking girls, guys, or even jerking off. And before you get any funny ideas, that also means Baby’s off limits until your wedding night.”
Insulted, Law narrowed his eyes. Sure, he was a degenerate and had deliberately cultivated the image of being a careless fuckboy, but he was also a highly trained surgeon, a ruthless torturer, and his right-hand man; did Doflamingo really think a month without sex would break him? That after all his careful planning, such a stupid stipulation would scare him off? Did he honestly have such a low opinion of him after everything Law’d done for the former noble?
Oh, as if he didn’t already have a thousand reasons to slowly crush his boss’ heart between his fingers.
“Deal,” he ground out through his teeth.
His white-knuckled grip on the chair only tightened when Joker laughed. “You don’t sound very convincing, kid! If you don’t think you can do it, just back out now! I’ll marry her off to Trebol or something and you can knock up a random hooker.”
“I don’t want some prostitute—I want Baby 5!” he snapped, gold eyes glinting dangerously in the fading rays of the sun. Silly as it was to get angry over such a little thing, Law was nearing the edge of his patience, and he hated seeing a carefully crafted plan threatening to fall apart when he was so close to getting what he wanted.
“Hey, don’t give me that scary look!” Doflamingo chortled, his leisurely sip of brandy unable to hide the self-satisfied smirk. “I’m just looking out for everyone’s well-being.”
No, you’re playing with us like puppets, he thought sourly, forcing himself to calm down. This was all just part of the man’s sadistic game, and he’d walked right into it. But Law refused to let himself get jerked around like a marionette. “As am I. We both know my plan works out best for everyone. I get an obedient, healthy wife whom I can trust to carry my legacy. Baby-ya gets her dream of being married, and when I’m dead she’ll still be blissfully needed by our child. And you get both your next Corazon and insurance that your favorite assassin won’t run off with some scumbag looking to use her against you. But if you really feel I need to prove myself, fine—I’ll stay completely celibate until the wedding night.”
“You sure?”
“Doffy, I’m going to make this clear; if you try to marry Baby-ya off to a freak like Trebol, she’s going to become a widow and you’re going to need a new Club Seat.”
“Ok, ok! You’ve made your point.” Sitting back, he gave a mock toast with his snifter. “If you think you can reign her in, I’ll bless your joyous union. I’ve got better things to do than kill idiots trying to separate our family and dodge her angry murder attempts. But marriage had better not turn you soft.”
Pleased that he finally got his way, Law let himself fully relax. “It won’t. Ultimately, it’s just a means to an end, but one that will satisfy all parties.”
“You sure Baby will be able to ‘satisfy’ you?” he asked with a leer. “Pretty sure she’s been waiting for a husband to pop her cherry; virgins can be hot, but that kind of inexperience can be frustrating, too.”
Remembering the way she’d sucked his thumb in the lab, Law wasn’t worried. “She’s biddable and eager to please, so I’m sure she’ll do everything possible to keep me satiated. Hell, a woman like that is practically tailor-made for me, since I can train her up to do what I like instead of having to break any bad habits.”
“Good, because I’m serious about not letting you cheat on her, Law. I want us all to be a big, happy family, and as the patriarch, it’s my job to keep everyone in line.”
Is that why you murdered your own brother? Law sneered quietly. Because he stepped out of line? Because if that’s your biggest concern, then you’ll never see me coming. Careful not to let his thoughts bleed onto his face, he nodded. “Understood.”
Grin shifting into something more easygoing and friendly, he asked, “So, when are you gonna ask her?”
The Corazon finished his warm brandy, taking the opportunity to think it over. “Next week. There’s a full moon, I’ll have time to pick out a ring, and I’m sure I can set up some nice, romantic music or something.”
“Shit, you’re taking this seriously.”
“Of course. I refuse to let anyone mock me and compare my proposal to those other worthless peons’.” Mostly, though, a week would give him time to take care of some loose ends. He expected Joker would be watching him closely during the engagement to ensure he really did hold up his promise to be faithful, and combined with actually putting a wedding together, there’d be little chance to work on his ultimate plan until after the honeymoon.
Though, perhaps he could use his honeymoon as a chance to visit Ceaser’s lab on Punk Hazard, and maybe swing by Sabaody to recruit more men to serve his cause. Considering the number of slaves Doflamingo shipped to those auction houses, surely more than a few would be happy to get some revenge against their captor.
Well, marriage is looking easier already, he thought with a grin.
Mistaking his expression for something else, Joker laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were smitten, kid!”
Tattooed hand pressed to his chest, Law sighed dramatically. “Is that really so hard to believe? Just because I’m a heart stealer doesn’t mean I can’t fall in love. Why, maybe all the wanton sex has been my way of coping with the cruel possibility that I’d never get to be with the one woman I truly care for!”
The two men shared a laugh at the absurdity of the idea. Baby 5 may believe in such crap, but her betrothed and boss knew better—the world was cruel, love was more painful than death, and no matter how you dressed them up, people were at their core nothing more than vicious animals looking to rip each other’s throats out.
“Regardless, I trust you’ll be discreet until after I pop the question?” Law asked. “I’d hate for someone to ruin the surprise.”
“You mean sabotage your perfect moment. Monet’ll be heartbroken when she hears.”
“She’ll get over it,” Law scoffed. He’d had a few fun evenings with the harpy, but she was of no importance to his plans. Though it did bring up the concern that she might try to turn Baby 5 against him before he could put her completely under his thrall. He’d have to ask Violet to keep an eye on her. “Maybe she’ll catch the bouquet.”
“And if she’s lucky, Trebol won’t be around for the garter toss!”
XXX
A week later, Baby 5 received orders from a grinning Doflamingo to clean up a mess in the palace garden. Broom and dustpan in hand, she marched out into the moonlight, mood sour despite the beautiful evening. Law had avoided her since he’d promised to talk to Joker; every time she so much as caught a glimpse of him, he’d disappear, using his powers to easily escape. Even when he had no choice but to be in the same room as her, such as dinner or meetings, he refused to meet her gaze, intently preoccupying himself with some other task or simply looking through her as if she were invisible.
Maybe Doffy told him to stay away from me, she thought with a sniffle. Maybe he didn’t approve the match and he now wants Law to stay as far away from me as possible. Or maybe Law decided he didn’t need me as his wife.
There was another painful possibility—that she’d dreamt hers and Law’s entire conversation. There was no hint that he’d spoken to the young master. No hint he even remembered flirting with her in the lab. Had he really held her close, asked if she’d ever been kissed, shared that cigarette with her? Or had she been so distraught by yet another dead fiancé that she’d begun to hallucinate?
Maybe I’m just completely crazy and my useless brain is making shit up because it knows I’ll never get married! God, I’m such an idiot! I never should have gotten my hopes up, she thought as she wiped a stray tear from her eye.
There was no time for feeling sorry for herself now, though; she had a job to do. She was needed in the garden. Once she was done, she could sneak off to her room and indulge in a good cry over her pathetic state.
As she entered the garden she was greeted by the soft sound of smooth jazz, and as she curiously made her way towards it, she wondered if this was the “mess” she was supposed to clean up. Right arm transforming into a pistol, she whirled around a large hedge, ready to blow the musician’s heads off, only to find the barrel of the gun inches from Law’s chest.
“Whoa, easy, Baby-ya!”
Immediately she froze, horrified that she’d nearly shot her superior. “I’m so sorry, Law!” she exclaimed with a deep bow. “Doffy told me there was a mess to clean up, and I assumed—”
“It’s alright; this is Joker’s fault,” he insisted, cupping her chin to make her look at him. His mouth was twisted in annoyance, and she wondered if he’d settle for just scolding her or if she had an evening of dismemberment to look forward to. “He should have just told you I wanted you to meet me out here.”
Law’s greater height forced her to straighten up, otherwise she’d be able to look no further than his chest. She blinked as she realized he was dressed rather nicely; smart black blazer and trousers, yellow dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, freshly polished shoes, and glittering gold earrings and cufflinks. The spicy scent of cologne tickled her nose, and she recognized it as the deep, musky fragrance he wore whenever he went out, and one of the myriad of smells his sexual partners reeked of when they left his room.
Amethyst eyes swept across the little clearing, taking in the small table with its crisp white tablecloth, which she identified as the one she’d ironed not an hour ago but had mysteriously gone missing. A vase of scarlet roses, a bottle of red wine, and two crystal glasses were carefully arranged on top of it, and with the small jazz quartet off to the side and the soft glow of the moon and surrounding lanterns, she finally understood.
The Corazon was out here meeting someone. Someone he was looking to impress. To her knowledge, he never put in this kind of effort for someone he simply intended to fuck, so whoever it was had to be really special.
No wonder he’d been avoiding her all week.
“Was there something you needed?” she asked softly, trying not to let her disappointment show.
In leu of an answer, he strolled over to the table and pulled out a chair, pointing at the seat meaningfully. Frowning, she studied the seat, not seeing any dirt but wiping it down anyway with her apron. An irritated little vein ticked on his forehead at her response, so she quickly tried to figure out what else he could possibly need. Should she fetch a cushion? Was the chair itself unsatisfactory and he wanted her to get a new one?
“I want you to sit in it, Baby-ya,” he finally said with an exasperated little eyeroll.
Red stained her cheeks in embarrassment. Asking her to take a seat was the last thing she expected, but maybe he wanted her to test the strength of the chair? She’d cleaned Law’s room several times after a one-night stand, and broken furniture was not an uncommon sight.
Gingerly sliding into the chair, she was surprised when he pushed it in, taking the seat across from her.
Feminine fingers fiddled nervously with the ruffled hem of her apron. What was she doing here? What did Law need? Shouldn’t she get out of the way before his real date showed up and got the wrong idea?
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked, resting his sharp chin on the bridge of his linked fingers, smirking slightly as he took her in. It was the first time he’d really looked at her all week, and she wondered if she was dreaming again.
When she nodded mutely, he continued, “Sorry for the calling you out on such short notice; I wasn’t sure everything would come together in time, and there was a threat of a storm rolling in. Plus, with all the planning I’ve been doing this week, I’ve been so tired I barely knew what day it was. The invitation almost completely slipped my mind.”
The full moon illuminated his face, and she could see the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. Insomnia had always been a problem for him, but she knew it got worse when he was stressed. And when it got especially bad, his temper was a lot shorter, and he was more likely to take it out on her when she got in his way. Why didn’t he ask her to take care of things? When it came to stuff like this, she was incredibly useful! She could set a table and deliver messages. If it helped, she was even willing to let him cut her into pieces so he could let off steam! Did he think she’d mess it up? Was he so sure he didn’t need her? “You did a good job,” she assured weakly.
His large, tattooed hand plucked one of her own from her lap, his rough thumb rubbing teasing little circles across her knuckles. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll be happy to leave the wedding planning to you and Joker, though; picking out tablecloths and flowers was absolutely mind-numbing.”
“Wedding planning?”
“Of course.” Baby 5’s heart quivered as he linked their fingers. It all felt like a scene from one of those romance novels she sometimes snuck from Giolla’s room. The moment where a pair of lovers confessed their feelings, none but the moon to bear witness.
As he poured a generous amount of wine into her glass, Law placed a butterfly kiss to the tip of her ring finger, followed by a light nip. “I like to think it’ll be a classy affair, but with Doflamingo in charge I’m not holding out hope. Still, so long as I get to see my obedient bride in a beautiful white dress, I can’t complain.”
“That sounds nice,” she managed to say, even though it felt like he was slowly strangling her. Even if his promise in the lab hadn’t been real, could he really be so cruel as to mock her with plans for his wedding when her dream was slowly being bashed to bits?
He raised an eyebrow. “You seem far less excited than I’d imagined.”
“Oh, no, of course I’m excited! I’m sure your wedding will be lovely, and I’m happy to help if you need me!” she said with a pained smile, desperately holding back her tears.
Smile dropping, his gold eyes narrowed. “Ok, this is ridiculous—you take the most innocuous comment from a complete stranger as a proposal, but you honestly can’t tell when I’m trying to ask for your hand in marriage?”
“What?”
Pulling out a small, velvet box, he presented her with a gold ring, a heart-shaped diamond gleaming in the center. He smirked at the way her eyes widened in shock. “Joker gave his approval, and I said when I proposed it’d be far better than what those scumbags had done. Now, are you going to stare at me forever, or are you going to say you’re mine?”
“…am I hallucinating?”
Reaching across the table, he gave a harsh pinch to the soft skin of her wrist.
“Ouch!”
“Proof enough that this is real? It’s been an exhausting week, Baby-ya, and I’d like to spend the rest of the evening drinking a nice glass of wine with my future wife before the hell of wedding planning starts. Though, I suppose if you don’t want me…” he trailed off as he slowly began to close the box.
A stampede of thoughts galloped through her head, barely comprehensive but all arriving at the same conclusion.
Law had asked her to marry him, and she needed to give an answer.
“Y-yes!” she exclaimed, ready to leap over the table, but his upraised hand between them stopped her.
“As much as I’d love to have you in my arms,” he said with a tired but triumphant grin, “I promised Joker I’d be a gentleman until the wedding. That means we’re going to have to keep touching to a minimum.”
“But why?” she asked curiously as he slipped the ring onto her finger. The diamond gleamed in the dim light, and it all finally felt so real.
She was finally going to become a wife!
Overwhelmed with emotion but unable to embrace her betrothed, she settled for grabbing his hand, kissing his fingertips like he had hers, her lips momentarily wrapping around his finger. Surely that counted as keeping touching to a minimum while still letting him see her gratitude, right? And he’d seemed to like it when she sucked his thumb that time…
She gasped as his long fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugging her forward so hard she knocked over her glass of wine, the burgundy liquid seeping into the clean white tablecloth.
Hot lips pressed to her ear as he rasped, “Because you’re too fucking irresistible for your own good, and if I’m going to make it to our wedding night, I need you to be a good girl and not tempt me.”
Liquid fire pooled between her thighs at the way his baritone voice called her a “good girl,” and she couldn’t help but let out a little whimper in response. He seemed to catch her reaction, as his voice became even rougher as he said, “Do you like that, Baby-ya? Does being called a ‘good girl’ turn you on?”
Swallowing hard, she tried to pull away, but his hand was like a shackle, unrelenting in its task of keeping her captive. “Yes,” she practically whispered, a little ashamed. Good girls didn’t get so hot and bothered over a few simple words. A good girl wouldn’t have tempted him. A good girl wouldn’t secretly want their superior—their future husband—to pin her to the table and show her what those romance novels meant when they talked about a man bringing his lover to the peak of pleasure.
She heard him take a deep, steadying breath before finally releasing her wrist, sitting back down and refilling her glass as if nothing had happened. Gold eyes flickered up to meet her breathless and confused gaze, and his wicked smile made her chest tighten and tingles dance through her nervous system.
“Then I’m looking forward to you showing me just how good you can be on our wedding night.”
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a-d-curtis · 5 years ago
Text
Breathe - Kataang Week 2019
Today was the day, and Aang could hardly believe it!
Right now Aang sat literally on the edge of his seat, holding the hand of his Dearest Love, the woman of his dreams, as she labored to bring their first child (his child!)into the world.
Aang looked at Katara with absolutely unadulterated adoration. Her hair was a piled mess on the top of her head, sweat was glistening on her skin from her hours of labor, and she grimaced in exertion and exhaustion; and Aang had never seen her look more beautiful! He lovingly brushed the hair back from her forehead as he praised her.
“You’re doing amazing, Katara!”
It was as if she hadn’t even heard him. She was so focused, every thought turned inward as she did her best to cope.
“Breathe, Sweetie. Don’t forget to breathe.”
Aang found himself breathing with her, exaggerated inhales and exhales that left him the tiniest bit light-headed. Or maybe that was just the excitement! Aang was so excited he could hardly sit; as it was he kept shifting on the edge of his chair, hovering over Katara, dabbing her forehead with the wet cloth, periodically directing cool breezes toward her, and trying not to fully take in the magnitude of what was happening (I’m going to be a father!) in worry that he might just implode.
Aang certainly didn’t feel preparedto be a father, but boy did he want to be one! Although only nineteen years old, he and Katara had been wanting to be parents ever since they were married over three years ago.
Shortly after Katara’s sixteenth birthday, when he had been only fourteen years old, Aang had asked Chief Hakoda to marry Katara. He had known he wanted to marry her since he was twelve, and he saw no reason to wait. But Hakoda had laughed, clapping the boy jovially on the shoulder as he told him he needed to hold his ostrich-horses a little. Katarawas sixteen, the legal marrying age in his Tribe, but Aangwas still only fourteen. When Aang tried the whole “I’m technically 114 years old” tactic, Hakoda had just laughed louder and told him that, alas, they would have to wait.
So when Aang finally did turn sixteen, he and Katara wasted no time in getting married. And, wow! Marriage was the good life! He did not know that he could ever love Katara more than he already did, but being married, being together for real; he just didn’t know if life could get any better!
The two of them did not have any plans to become parents right away per se; but they also weren’t preventing it. And they spent <ahem> plentyof time in activities that might lead to a baby. So when six months had passed, with no pregnancy, Katara had remarked that she was a bit surprised. Aang didn’t know much about any of this. All of the Air Nomad babies had been born in the Eastern and Western Temples where the nuns lived – male babies did not move to his temple or the Northern temple until they were three years old. So Aang’s experience with babies and pregnancy and pretty much anything related was very limited.
He had been encouraged by the birth of baby Hope right after they had crossed the Serpent’s Pass; but that was the closest thing he had had to any real experience with birth and babies. He remembered seeing that tiny baby, and how she had filled him with, well… hope. And how he felt like perhaps nothing could be so fresh and full of promise as a newborn baby. And although he hadn’t thought much about any specifics at the time, he knew then that someday he wanted to be a dad.
Katara had a lot more of an understanding about these things than Aang did, so when their first wedding anniversary (best year of his life!) rolled around, and she still was not pregnant, Katara began to worry that perhaps there was something wrong.
Perhaps ignorance was bliss, because Aang was not concerned. “It will happen when it happens, Sweetie.” Aang just continued to lavish Katara with love and do all he could to reassure her.
But as a year and three months, then a year and half rolled around, with still no pregnancy, Katara began to panic a little. She knew that the whole world was waiting with bated breath for news of a potential new airbender baby, and she got tired of fielding insensitive and invasive questions from friend and stranger alike. More than once Aang had held her in his arms as she cried, set off by some whoever asking her when she would finallystart bringing balance to the four nations. The comments were sometimes in accusation, but even those made in jest or simply curiosity, hurt. Katara began to feel the burden of being married to the last airbender, and it was not easy for either of them.
Initially Katara consulted her Gran Gran, who gave her a recipe for a concoction of herbs known to increase fertility that had been passed down for generations in her Tribe. “Drink this daily in your morning tea, and you will have a baby in no time!” Gran Gran had assured her. But six months later, six months of daily choking down the terrible concoction, with no results, and Katara knew she needed to try something else.
Being who they were, privacy was hard to preserve. So when Katara began to make further inquiries about ways and methods of increasing fertility, she did so cautiously, and with great discretion. The last thing they wanted was the press to broadcast to the world something so private and painful. There were those who were already critical of Aang’s choice in a bride, claiming that marrying a non-bender would have been a more practical decision if he wanted his children to be airbenders; so the last thing they wanted was for news to leak out that they were having trouble getting pregnant at all.
At one fertility clinic she visited, in their very own fledgling Republic City, the practitioner had recognized Katara (Aang hadn’t even gone in an effort to maintain their anonymity). In a series of veiled statements, the woman had more or less threatened to let this information out to the public. Only after a slew of pleading words and a heavy red envelope filled with Earth Kingdom bills was slipped into her hand, did the woman promise to keep her lips sealed. The money Katara had brought to go towards fertility treatments instead became the price of silence.
The idea of a baby, that had once been a bright, optimistic hope for the future was becoming a burden for the couple. Affection between Katara and Aang had remained strong, and Aang was quick to reassure Katara at every opportunity, that he had no expectations, that he was happy as they were, and that there was no need to worry. That they were young, and had their whole lives ahead of them with plenty of time for babies in the future.
But it was clear that hunger for a baby had become a near obsession for Katara. Love making now had a clear purpose, and it saddened Aang that his expressions of love to Katara now came with such tangible measurements for success; resulting in pregnancy = success / no pregnancy = failure. What was once beautiful (and still was, really) was marred by expectation.
Aang began to dread “that time of the month” and not for the usual reasons; he wasn’t worried that Katara would be moody or irritable. But he dreaded the agony of watching her fall to disappointed pieces every time her “red waters” came. Occasionally her cycle would be a day or two late, her hope rising; but then when it did come, the crushing disappointment seemed to be even worse, and Aang would just hold her while she sobbed and sobbed in his arms.
And although he never voiced his thoughts, in the back of his mind, Aang began to worry as well. What if they couldn’t have children? Would he would be the last airbender. Ever? What would become of world balance? And if he and Katara failed to have children, who would teach his next reincarnation? And when the Avatar was due to be born an Airbender again… would the cycle be broken forever?These were troubling thoughts, and he did not indulge in them often. They felt like poison, and Aang was still optimistic. They really did have their whole lives ahead of them! It had only been a few short years. No need to worry yet!
So far, Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom treatments had failed them, so it was with trepidation and discretion that Aang one day quietly approached Zuko about their situation. For the most part, Katara and Aang had been very tight-lipped about this, even with their family and close friends. But when Aang tentatively asked Zuko if he was aware of any Fire Nation experts or treatments to aid in getting pregnant, Zuko replied as though he was not surprised at all. “Sure. Providing an heir has always been a big concern among Fire Nation royalty. Our family physician is probably the most versed expert in fertility treatments in the world. And I know how you would want to keep this quiet. So we’ll come up with some reason for you and Katara to come to the Fire Nation, and you can consult with him then.”
The Fire Lord’s physician had seemed a bit cold, and pragmatic, but he was thorough, even testing Aang as well as Katara, stating that he didn’t subscribe to the common assumption that these types of problems were always “the woman’s fault”. And after a few months of treatments, special diets and exercises for them both, Katara finally found herself pregnant! After three years of hoping, Aang and Katara were finally going to be parents!
The time right after discovering they were pregnant, was a joyful one for the pair. Their happiness and affection soared, and love-making abounded. Aang hadn’t even been sure they were allowed to be together “that way” once Katara was pregnant, but he soon found out that Katara hungered for him more than ever. Despite some mild sickness early on, overall Katara felt great, and her pregnancy was a time of rejoicing and healing for them both. They felt more in love than ever. It was as though the innocence and brightness of their youth had been restored to them, and on most days they found that they simply could not stop smiling.
In the beginning, Katara thought it wise to keep her pregnancy hush-hush for a while. She knew of the higher chance of miscarriage early in a pregnancy, and she didn’t want to make this public right away. But Aang couldn’t seem to keep it in. The first time he saw Sokka after they found out the good news, he had meant to say, “Hi Sokka” but what had come out was “we’re going to have a baby!” Katara had dropped her head into her hands, but he didn’t get in too much trouble. I guess they were all just too happy to fight about it.
But Aang tried harder after that to keep their secret. Everyone could tell that Aang was happy (even happier than usual, that is). He had always been light on his feet, but now he practically hovered, bounding lightly from place to place. (“Get your dang feet on the ground, Twinkletoes; not knowing where you are is making me nervous!” Toph had admonished him on more than one occasion.)
Aang was so eager to share their news, that Katara had finally caved and given him permission to “shout it to the world” when she was ten weeks along. She told him she had wanted to wait until twelve weeks, but after watching him struggle almost painfully to contain such a marvelous secret for so long, she decided it was safe to put him out of his misery, and just let him tell.
The press went wild! Within days every corner of the world knew that the Avatar and his wife were expecting a baby. Of course rampant speculation about whether their baby would be an airbender was a hot topic; some believed that with all Air Nomad babies being born benders in the past, that this one was sure to be as well; but others argued that with Katara being from the Water Tribe, and a waterbender at that, that the baby’s bending was not guaranteed.
Aang almost couldn’t care less. Almost. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t hope to one day (maybe very soon!) give up the title of being the Last Airbender. But he didn’t worry much about it. Now he felt confident that he and Katara could have a whole slew of babies! One of them was bound to be an airbender… So the bending of this baby was not of top priority to him.
Katara and Aang had discussed possible names for their children, starting even before they were pregnant (quite possibly even before they were married, if they were honest). But now that their baby was really coming, they discussed it in earnest. In the end they decided that if the baby was a girl, they would name her Kya, after Katara’s mother. And if the baby was a boy, they would name him Gyatso, after Aang’s beloved mentor and father figure. When Aang thought about calling his son Gyatso, his throat would close up thick with emotion. It felt right to give the newest hope for his people’s future the name of the man who had given Aang so much love. Like naming his son after his mentor could bridge the hundred-year gap that separated the Air Nomads from their future in this world, a future that could quite possibly begin with this baby growing in Katara’s tummy.
Not long after discovering that they were pregnant, Aang had gotten into the habit of talking to Katara’s belly, which had made Katara throw her head back in laughter and look at him with a new kind of affection in her eyes. Aang would often come home and kneel down to kiss her tummy and talk animatedly to their baby (mostly in his own native Air Nomad language (“gotta get our baby started learning early!”)). Aang knew that Katara could only understand a little of what he said, but he almost preferred it that way; now he could tell their baby secrets, making plans for what they would do together when he or she finally came out!
And now, finally, the baby was ready to come! Aang and Katara had just moved to the island in Yue Bay. Aang hoped that one day he could build an Air Temple there, to make a place for his nation in this city of cultural fusion. But for now, they had to be content with the small house they had constructed on the island. Aang was disappointed that their house was so… low. Like all ancient cultures, the Air Nomads had had their fair share of superstitions; and the belief that it was good luck to deliver a baby in the highest tower in the temple was one of them. Katara had immediately shot down his suggestion that she deliver on their roof; so he would have to content himself with the top floor of their small two story home.
Reporters were waiting on boats down in the Bay; waiting to be the first to spread the news of the Avatar’s firstborn child. Aang had forbidden them from coming onto the island, and a few Acolytes were on the docks now, ensuring that Aang and Katara could have this moment in peace and privacy. But Aang secretly was eager to tell them all when his son or daughter was born. He imagined himself, walking proudly down to the dock, baby tucked gingerly in his arms to show the Acolytes and let the whole world share in their joy.
The reporters had started to gather earlier that day. He wasn’t sure exactly how they had gotten wind of the fact that Katara was in labor; perhaps someone had been watching her midwife, and when she came to the island, the reporters had been tipped off. Who knows? But even when he and Katara had still been walking the grounds, giving Katara a chance to walk between contractions and enjoy the open air, they could see the boats beginning to gather.
Aang had been so excited in those early hours of labor that he could hardly contain himself. More than once, Katara had seated herself for a moment and told him to go “run a lap” (an airbending enhanced run around the perimeter of the island) to get some of his pent-up energy out. He was just so excited, and so was Katara for that matter. Between contractions, they could not stop smiling in delight at the prospect of holding their baby today!
But as labor had gotten progressively harder, Katara had needed Aang’s support more and more. And eventually, the two had gone inside, to their room upstairs. The midwife and her small team were waiting for them there, as well as Katara’s Gran Gran.
Gran Gran had delivered nearly all the babies in the South Pole over the last fifty years, and Katara had wanted her to deliver her baby as well; but Gran Gran had encouraged them to hire a professional. She claimed that she was getting too old (“Spirits-forbid I should drop the baby!”). But she was here as support, and as an extra expert on hand.
Katara was laboring hard now, gritting her teeth and pushing when the contractions came. The contractions now were so close together that she hardly had a moment to catch her breath. Aang looked at his wife lovingly, one hand grasped hard in Katara’s vice-like grip, the other brushing her hair from her face. “I love you, Katara! You can do this! You bothcan do this! Breathe, just breathe.”
And then it was happening! Sneaking a peak, Aang could see a tuft of the baby’s black hair. And then, another screaming push later, and there he was! Suddenly out, all wet and beautiful and a… a… baby! He didn’t know what he was expecting (of course he’s a baby!), but for some reason Aang was surprised to see how complete he was; two legs, two arms, a full head of dark hair. His son. Gyatso! Aang had yelped with joy and kissed Katara, congratulating her on the most miraculous thing he had ever seen!
But he soon realized that he seemed to be the only one rejoicing. When he looked across to to Gran Gran on Katara’s other side, her mouth was a tight grim line; she seemed to be listening for something that wasn’t there.
All of the sudden there was a flurry of motion. The midwife rushing his son over to the table set up at the other side of the room, unwrapping the cord from his neck while she went, her assistants all rushing around frantically to help.
He didn’t know what was going on, but he could sense the panic in the room, and a deep sense of dread began to settle in his stomach. The women were all talking at once, barking commands and clarifying instructions. But there was a stark absence of a sound they had all been waiting for. Gyatso. There was no baby cry.
Aang was stunned. There he stood frozen, looking toward the flurry of women working urgently on his son, but unable to move from his spot. The Air Nomads had believed that a child didn’t have a soul until it took its first breath. All he could think was breathe, baby, breathe!
He felt something grab his hand; looking down he saw Katara lying on the bed, looking exhausted, wet hair matted over the right side of her face; fear haunting her features. “Aang! What’s going on? Where is my baby!?”
The whole room seemed to hold its breath. Everyone waiting for that cry. Aang stumbled away from Katara and over towards the table where the women were working on his son. Some great dread slithered into him as he approached. Looking over the shoulders of the working women, he saw him. Gyatso. His son. Blue and unmoving.
He looked back at Katara, stricken. He couldn’t speak. She just watched, eyes large, breath held. Waiting. Like they all were.
Please baby, just breathe!
Aang didn’t know how long he stood there. It felt like eternity. Eventually, the wizened midwife turned to him, apology blanketing her features. She said something. Aang couldn’t seem to hear her. He was still waiting, bated breath, for his son to make a sound. The woman took hold of his arm and spoke again. “I’m sorry, Avatar. But the baby didn’t make it…”
For a long moment Aang just stood there, uncomprehending. Until something broke inside him. As tears began to stream down his face, Aang shouldered his way forward to the table. One of the women had wrapped the motionless baby in a blanket. Hands trembling, Aang picked up his son. He was so tiny; tiny and perfect. Perfect little lips: just like his mom’s. A perfect little nose and peaceful brow above his closed eyelids. He had big ears that stuck out prominently, just like Aang’s. One tiny, perfect hand poked out from the blanket by his face.
Suddenly Aang swung around frantic. “Katara!” his mouth could hardly force her name from his throat. “Katara! You’ve got to heal him! Please! I know you can save our baby!”
Grief driving him to madness, Aang stumbled toward the bed. “Please, Katara! You brought me back to life; I know you can do the same for our son! I can fly to the North Pole. I can get water from the…” but he couldn’t finish as he collapsed into the chair, his expression crumpling in anguish as he rocked their dead baby in his arms, sobs bursting from him.
Gran Gran put her hand on his shoulder. Then taking the baby from him, she wrapped their boy again, and put him in the arms of his mother. Katara sat staring strait ahead. It was as if her grasp on where she was had slipped. Until eventually she slowly turned her gaze to the lifeless child in her arms. Then one long low wail grew from deep inside her, and Katara shook with a wracking silent sob.
Aang looked at his wife; this woman he loved more than anything in the world. And he rose to sit next to her on the bed. Then lifting her in his arms, he wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her into his lap. Rocking slowly, he cradled her while she cradled their lost son.
“Breathe, Katara. Breathe.”
………….
A/N: I’m sorry for this. I cried while I wrote it.
I guess I’ve always thought it odd that Aang and Katara only had three kids. And I also thought they probably would have named one of their sons after Gyatso. So here is my head-cannon on some of the trouble they had having children, and on the son that they didname Gyatso.
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callmetippytumbles · 6 years ago
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#22 Liam x Halle
I have never done an AU before, but this list seemed like fun.  I just don’t know if I can keep it short, but I can try. BWAHAHAHAHA, this ain’t short at all, its why it took a hot minute to write.  Anyway, I renamed Katie from RoE, Essence, and I hope you like it @ladynonsense
Halle could not believe she got roped into this foolishness.  There were better things she could do with her time.  There were better ways she could have spent her money instead of on a dress.  She would rather be anywhere but here.
Who has a vow renewal after one year of marriage?  Who the fuck does that?
Halle already knew the answer, Leo and Essence the fuck does that.  
Apparently, Leo met Essence on some cruise ship.  They hit it off and Leo left the family business to be with her.  They have been living happily after ever since.  There were some bumps along the way like Essence marrying another man on the same cruise ship they met for her inheritance.  Leo hooked up with his ex-fiancée but left her brokenhearted.  Somehow, Leo and Essence could not stay apart.  They had an affair, her first marriage to that rando was annulled and she was now married to her one true love: Leo.  Allegedly.
If you have a shit ton of money to blow and no desire towards any kind of altruism, this is the kind of thing you do, Halle thought to herself.  Her friend Daniel knew a guy who knew a guy and that’s how he got the invite to this elaborate sham.  Daniel asked Halle to tag along as a wingwoman and that brought her to now.  
Now she was in an expensive dress, painful heels standing by the bar waiting for a top-shelf cocktail that was, thankfully, free.  If you are going to subject people to an unnecessary and extravagant public display, you should at least provide free booze to make the event go by faster.
Just as the bartender reached over the bar to hand Halle her sweet relief from this farce, Halle felt a sharp nudge on her shoulder.  The nudge made her hand miss the bartender and now her glass was half-empty.
“Thanks a lot, jerk!” She spat while shaking the spilled drink from her hand.
“You were in my way!” A deep male voice retorted behind her.  “Whiskey on the rocks, please.  Make it a double.”
“Right away sir.” The bartender responded before adding, “After I make the young miss another drink.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes. Thank you, indeed,” the man said through gritted teeth.
She saw the man put a hundred dollar bill in the bartender’s tip jar.  One of those types, the type to show off his money because he has nothing else to offer.  He’s probably ugly or marginally attractive at best.  Halle trained her eyes forward so as not to look at the rude man beside her.  The two of them stood in silence.  Her drink could not come soon enough. While it was probably best that she kept quiet, she could not shake his rudeness.  
“So you’re just gonna stand there?  Not apologize?”
The man started to say something but sighed instead.
Halle turned to look him.  He wasn’t ugly as she thought, at least on the outside.  He was tall, had lean muscles, had dark, inky black hair that was perfectly coiffed, thick black eyebrows, a strong nose seemed to contrast the rest of his features that leaned more Asian.  Especially his eyes.  
Before Halle could get lost in him he finally spoke.
“You’re right.  I do owe you an apology.” He pinched his nose bridge.  “I’m not usually like this.  Really.  It’s just been a hard day.  Watching my brother remarry someone he was already married to.”
“That guy is your brother? But you’re–”
The man interjected, “Half-brother, thankfully.  Same father, different mothers.”
“I see.” She nodded with understanding.
The bartender returned with their drinks.  Their shoulder relaxed as they took their first sips.  Halle got what she wanted, she could find somewhere to sulk and be unbothered, but she had to ask this stranger more questions.
“So if you hate this event so much, why are you still here?”
He sighed, “Because he’s family.  We have to keep up amicable appearances.  Can’t leave too early, people might think you opposed their blessed union.”
“When is a respectable time to ditch your brother’s vow renewal?”
The man nodded, leaning his back against the bar.  She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms over her chest.  
He mulled over her question before answering, “About 30 minutes into the dancing, I suppose.  That was going to be my plan anyway.”
Halle shrugged her shoulders, “Seems polite enough.”
“What brings you to this elaborate display of marital bliss?” He asked gesturing in front of him.
She leaned her head towards him and whispered, “I’m technically here as a freeloader.”
The man raised an eyebrow and Halle continued.
“I was the plus one of my friend Daniel to be his wingwoman, but as you can see,” She gestured to Daniel talking to one of the servers having an animated conversation. “He no longer needs me.”
“And you’re still here because?”
“While my job is done, I have not drunk enough free liquor and not enough people have seen me in this dress.”
She felt his eyes trail her frame, soaking up every inch of her garment, or her body in it.  Possibly both.  The teal one-shoulder, knee-length sheath was still tasteful enough to be somewhat appropriate for the occasion, but the slit up the side that hit quite high up her thigh and the way it hugged her curves made said otherwise.  
His eyes took the scenic route back to her face before he uttered “that is… quite the dress.  I can see why you would want more eyes on you, er…”
“Halle.  The name is Halle.” She said extending her hand.
He didn’t shake it.  In what she would normally call a cheesy, old-world kind of move, the man held it gingerly as he bent his head down to kiss her knuckles.  
“I am Liam.”
“Nice to meet you, Liam.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Halle.”
She didn’t know why but she got a thrill hearing his deep voice say her name.  Looking him over in his fine tux, she wondered what it would be like for him to say her name when… A fork tapping on glass stopped that train of thought.
Halle and Liam turned to the front of the hall.  Leo was standing in front of the room waiting for the din to dissipate before speaking.
“I just want to thank everyone for sharing in my and Essence’s happiness.  We hope that all of you can bathe in the depths of our love.  I would like to raise a toast to my wife,“ He said raising his glass, his adoring gaze trained on his wife.  “She is the first woman to touch my heart with her kindness, open-mindedness, and willingness to try just about anything.”
A small round of awkward chuckles swept the room.
“I doubt her first husband would agree,” Halle muttered making Liam snort in his drink.
“To Essence.  My first, my last, my everything.”
She peered at Liam over her drink when an idea came to her head.
“Wanna get out of here?”
A smile grew on his face, “Thank God, I was literally about to ask you the same thing.”
“Great,” Halle said back, his smile making her smile.  “Then let’s ditch these losers and be anywhere else.”
As they headed toward the exit, Liam stopped her.
“I doubt my brother would miss me, but shouldn’t you let your plus-one know you are leaving?”
“I doubt I would be missed, but I will text him later.”
With that Liam wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side.  The closeness was welcome rather than sudden as he led her to the elevator.  Inside he took out his keycard and swiped it in front of the sensor before pressing the button for the penthouse.  
As the elevated climbed to their destination, Liam laced his fingers with hers.  His thumb idly drew shapes on the back of her hand.  She looked up at him and their eyes met.  His grin made her grin.
When the elevator doors opened, it revealed sleek, masculine, yet opulent furnishings.  She could hear her heels clack against the polished marble floors.  The most stunning part of the suite was, of course, the floor to ceiling windows that showcased the New York skyline.  
He loosened his tie, while Halle marveled at the view from one of the closest windows.
“It is quite the view, isn’t it?”
Halle nodded.
“It’s not even the best one.  That would be the one over here.”
He pointed to a glass set of doors that led to a balcony.  He stepped out through the doors first, then taking her hand to guide her.
“Hold on a sec,” She interrupted, before setting a foot outside. “I have to do something really quick.”  She removed her high heels, each shoe hitting the floor with a thud, before joining him.
“Sorry, the dogs were barking.  Those heels were killer.  I hope you don’t mind that I removed them.”
“Not at all.”
Liam beckoned her to balcony wall.  She padded across the granite tiles to join him.  In their immediate eyesight was the Plaza Hotel with its glowing lights mesmerizing them from across Central Park.  Halle couldn’t take her eyes off of it.  Liam couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“You’re right,” She admitted in awe.  “This is the best view in this place.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” He cheekily replied.
She turned to him trying to suppress a bashful grin.
“Looking at this view, it feels like anything is possible.”
Halle quipped, “Are we talking about me or the Plaza Hotel?”
He took a step closer to her, “Maybe it’s both.”
“Liam…” She breathed.
“You turned my night around, Halle.  I have felt better with you in these last couple of hours than I have in weeks.”
“You must have had some lousy weeks if I am the highlight.”
“Let’s just say your boldness has been refreshing.”
“Thank you, I guess.”
A chill swept through her body making her wrap her arms around herself.  Liam took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it on her shoulders.
“Actually, I should be thanking you.”
He brought the lapels of his jacket closer to protect her from the night air.  Their closeness created a charge between them.  He pulled her to him.  She could feel the warmth radiating from his body.  Without thinking she stood on her tippy toes and pulled him closer as best she could.  He bent down to meet her with a searing kiss.  Her heart raced as the chill in the air was replaced with heat and desire.  He grabbed her round ass as he pulled her closer, even though there was no space left between them.
Halle pulled away, breathless from the kiss.  Liam rested his forehead against her.  His hands cupped her face while his thumbs tenderly stroked her cheeks.  
“You are something else, aren’t you?” His voice tinged with astonishment.
“Probably.  Maybe you should kiss me again to see if you can find out what?”
He obliged.  
Send me a ship
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lashydsdomain · 5 years ago
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1-45 FOR SUGAR PUSH OWO
- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?
Bella usually wants to sleep with Harlow but he’s anxious about it since he’s turned her into a pin cushion multiple times in his sleep. I think Bella tends to wake up first and usually goes to make breakfast for the hive.
- How’s their team work? Do they share well?
Bell…. Probably shares a lot better than Harlow since he um. He tends to want and need a lot of attention and doesn’t always come to Bell for it. It bothers her but she still hasn’t said anything yet.
As for teamwork I think they tend to be alright at it? Nothing special, just how they do.
- Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?
They’re a bit quiet about it since Harlow is a celebrity and Bella would prefer she not get a metric fuck ton of death threats. People know but not too many thankfully. Bell is a bit squirrely about PDA but she’s into it. She does prefer somewhere semi private though.
- First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?
More like lust at first sight. They met in a park and Bella might have read his mind and died because he was thinking about railing her. It kill the Bell.
- Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?
They call each other puppy and kitten and it’s kinda cute. There are likely a few in jokes but I can’t think of any right now whoops.
- Any tasks that are always left to one person?
Hm. Not really actually. Bella does majority of the cooking but Harlow does sometimes as well. She always appreciates when he does.
- What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?
Harlow being a damn ho. It bothers Bell to no end but she’s also aware he’s a hyper sexual motherfucker and she’s unsure if she wants to take on the full brunt of it. She does want him to stop though, she just hasn’t gotten around to talking with him about it because she’s a weenie.
He can also be a bit neglectful when he starts to hyper focus but she doesn’t blame him for that; she knows he can’t exactly help it.
- What do the like best about their partner?
Bell loves how genuinely kind he can be and how safe he makes her feel. He’s finally getting around and learning how to help her with her PTSD and she’s so proud of him for it.
- Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?
Death is a somewhat common topic. They don’t really discuss children but they do have descendants eventually.
- Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?
Harlow drives 90% of the time, Bell usually cooks, cleans, and does handiwork, they both pay their own bills since they live semi separately, and Harlow always handles the public. Bella has too much anxiety for that.
- Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?
Harlow tends not to but he does occasionally for Bella and it shatters her poor heart to know he cares that much.
- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?
If I remember right they do indeed get married as humans; it’s not something that’s been talked about too much but I have a feeling it might have been a kinda small one. That honeymoon lasted a good long while though.
- What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up?
They do the usual couple things like movies n cuddling n shit; Bella isn’t much for people but occasionally Harlow can convince her to go out to a club with him. Bella also likes listening to Harlow work on his music but I don’t know if that’s exactly fun for DJ man himself.
- Anything they both dread?
Breaking up I think; I know it’s a big anxiety for Bella even if she’s thought about it quite a bit from both ends.
- How adventurous are they?
Bella isn’t super adventurous but will go along with just about anything Harlow asks her to do but she does have a few lines she refuses to cross.
- Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?
Bella keeps so many damn secrets. They were dating for two years before he found out why she has PTSD. She also lies occasionally if Harlow asks if she’s ok; it’s not so much because it’s him, it’s more so she feels if she says it she might feel better later.
Their relationship is semi open much to Bellas dislike so there isn’t much cheating going on. At least Harlow doesn’t talk about it with her.
- What would make them break up? Would it be permanent?
It’s been discussed that in order for them to have a functional relationship they might have to break up and get back together for Harlow to understand just how bad his actions effect Bell. I’m unsure if it’ll ever actually happen but it’s possible.
- What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?
Typically they’re at home since Bella dislikes going out too much and Harlow can get bothered by fans in other places.I think it was about half a year until they started dating.Bella kind of feels like they need one right now if I’m honest. She’s very tired and her emotions are absolutely everywhere about him.
- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?
Usually it’s something that was overlooked and caused a bad reaction. They’ve only really ever fought once though and it was because Harlow barely looked at Bell for around 2 or 3 months. They made up by talking it out and cuddling; it also affirmed with Bell that Harlow does really love her.
- What does their home look like? Their room?
They have separate homes and flip flop between them every now and then.
- Do they share any interests or hobbies?
They both really enjoy music. I think Harlow is interested in Bells magic even if it isn’t for a great reason but it’s there.
- Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?
They can both get absorbed into their work and kind of forget the outside world for a while. It’s rare but it does happen.
- How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?
Often and A Lot. Harlow is a very physically affectionate person and Bella is the sponge to soak it all up. Harlow Really Enjoys teasing Bella. Absolutely adores it.
- Any doubts about the relationship?
Not sure on Harlows end but Bell does occasionally worry about him just using her and not really loving her but that’s mostly in the past but it won’t ever really go away. It’s that Anxiety™ man.
- How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?
Quite a bit usually. Both tend to keep things to themselves and hide feelings until they bubble over. It’s Bad.
- How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?
Most of their friends didn’t exactly approve of the relationship when it started since Labelle can bit a bit of a push over and Harlow is kind of a fuckboy. Bella’s mom still doesn’t 100% approve of it but Bell is happy.I’m pretty sure Beans is ecstatic they’re together and that’s adorable.
- Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?
They do eventually have kids, Lavora and Rydere, and are likely to stay together until Harlow dies. They have the possibility of breaking up but it’s not 100%
- What are their vacations like?
Probably somewhere abroad and fancy or somewhere deep in the woods just away from everything and everyone. Harlow likes the big crowds and lights but even he needs to recharge once in a while.
- How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?
Panic. That’s about it. Both panic if the other is hurt. Bell can thankfully heal her own wounds usually and Harlows powers heal him fairly fast.Minor injuries still worry each other I think, Bell hates seeing Harlow hurt at all.Neither have been sick but I have a feeling it would end in one of those really mushy ‘tending to your sick lover in bed’ situations.
- Could they manage a long distance relationship?
Occasionally they have to for months at a time since Harlow goes on tour. They talk usually every day unless Harlow is too busy and Bella catches what she can on TV.
- Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?
I’d say no to all but Bell has a natural sense for if people are hiding something. She won’t pry too much but she does ask when she notices. Harlow is oblivious 90% of the time.
- Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?
Usually mischievous but they have gotten into some pretty serious situations where one or both could have died.
- What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?
Harlow tends to shower Bell in gifts from places he’s visited. Bell tries her best to find things he’s going to like but honestly she has no idea what to give him other than affection since if he wants something he can just. Buy it.
- Do they have any pets?
Harlow got Bell a support puppo that got named Beowoof. That’s about as close to owning pets together as they have since I don’t think their parents would enjoy being called pets.
- Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?
It’s a mixed bag I’d say. I’d say it’s more accurate to say they bring out each others true selves as cheesy as that is. A fatal flaw would probably be that they don’t communicate how they’re (cough bella cough) feeling enough
- What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?
Greatest strength I think would be quite literal. Between Harlows regeneration and strength and Bella’s magic the pair would likely be a bit terrifying. A weakness as above though is likely lack of communication.
- How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?
Both would kill for the other. There are a lot of lines that shouldn’t be crossed on Bells end but it’s more personal boundaries. She dislikes death but has killed a lot of people herself and is just a little miffed when Harlow does so.
- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)For the most part they’re fairly rough and aggressive but the occasional soft loving sessions are adorable. There are a few things Bella won’t do but Harlow will do pretty much anything and everything.
- Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first?  When did they realize they were in love?
It was Harlow I believe on the first two, and probably Bella on the third. She falls a bit easily if someone is too nice.
- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?
The first time they met I think will always be one for Bella, even if it’s for her to laugh about most of the time. I don’t think there’s a special place though.
- Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?
Bella hates parties but Harlow thrives in them so they go occasionally. Bella is an absolute mess when drunk and Harlow gets really lovey and affectionate. It’s not too common of an occurrence since Bella has had issues with alcohol before but it’s not rare. Maybe once a week or so for Bell at least.
- Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?
Bella lets Harlow get away with far too much.
- Do they talk often? What about?
They likely talk at least once a day. Probably just about how their day is going and just to check in and make sure they don’t need anything.
- Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?
They’re very comfortable around each other for the most part. Both need time apart occasionally when they get overwhelmed.
- Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?
Bell regrets not being more open with him and has a hard time doing it now. She just really hopes they stay together for a long time. Unsure about Harlow tho.
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hopevalley · 6 years ago
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What did you make of the new synopsis for ep 1 of s1 that is doing the rounds? Gowen and Bill are going head to head to buy the saloon - interesting?! Also who do you believe Abigail was best suited to....I think she and Bill could have gone somewhere if the fallout between them had been written differently. I mean come on, you've got people believing she and Henry are a thing and he is responsible for the death of her husband son! Bill could've been forgiven his drama with Nora too.
First, this is almost 3,000 words long. I’m so sorry..
I assume you meant S6E1—and naturally I have a lot of opinions!
I’m into the general concept of that plotline. It’s so easy to picture. I imagine it’ll happen something like: Gowen makes a comment about buying the place and Bill is instantly like, “Or I could prevent you from doing that” and then it escalates almost instantly into a competitive irritation-fueled bidding war. It’s perfectly in character for both of them.
Bill has proven he can be jealous (see S2) and petty (see S3), sometimes to the point where he can be cruel (see S5). Henry is a very competitive guy who will do what it takes to get what he wants, often at the expense of others (see pretty much every season). We also know there’s absolutely no love lost between them. Despite the short moment where Bill was almost friendly to Henry in S5 (when Henry turned in the woman who offered him a job if he betrayed Lee), it’s clear Bill and Henry are bound to be…well, I don’t want to say “lifelong enemies” so maybe: lifelong personal antagonists?
Their history is complex and interesting, and it goes back at least 20 years. They’ve known each other (or of each other) longer than they haven’t. Think about that. And there’s that whole mess with Nora getting pregnant, Bill marrying her and raising Martin, the comment Bill made about how Nora “always had a weak spot for [Henry]”—and the fact that Bill has investigated the mining company Henry worked for more than once, both ending in prosecutions; but the first time he did this ended with Henry being spat out as a scapegoat for the company: banished to Coal Valley.
So Henry blames Bill for a lot of the things he’s had to deal with. On the opposite side of things, Bill has known Slimy Gowen for so many years that it’s hard for him to really believe the man is capable of change, especially a drastic change. Neither of them…are really wrong, though; to a certain extent, it’s a matter of perspective. Bill thinks Henry is a scumbag, and Henry thinks Bill has always had it out for him.
And, sure, Henry didn’t let Ray Wyatt shoot Bill, but 1) he’d be implicated in that, and 2) all it really says about his character is that he has a moral line he won’t cross. He sicced his goons on Bill in S1, worked to ruin Abigail’s livelihood for literal years, and used Nora. He wasn’t a good man. But he knew who he was and he knew how far he’d go.
I like to think he’s still that guy, just…maybe better—or at least willing to try to be better?
And you know what? I like that even though Gowen has been making an effort to be a better person, the series hasn’t tried to push the two of them into some kind of happy friendship. Their history together isn’t good, and neither is their present. “You testified against me, Bill. Now, I see you taking a stroll down the boardwalk with my co-conspirator” (S5).
It’s just nice to see that “second chances” don’t always have to be these grand gestures of love and friendship and closeness; they can be just…staying in your own lane? I mean, even if Bill absolutely hates Henry, he mostly just ignores him/leaves him alone/lets him do his thing—and vice versa. That’s a form of giving a second chance. It doesn’t have to be on a personal level, and I think with these two characters, any kind of “wholesome, wholly-trusting” resolution would just feel…really bad. They need to retain their integrity as people, which means they’ll probably never actually like one another.
So of course they’d get into a bidding war over the saloon. 
The only real question I have about it is…uh…where’s Henry getting the money? That must be some promotion Lee gave him, huh? I love the plot, but this is a huge oversight.
Look, Bill can theoretically have a lot of money. We don’t actually know how wealthy or un-wealthy he is. He’s been working an unpaid position off and on for the last two years as the sheriff of Hope Valley, but he also owns half of Abigail’s Café.
And this can’t be overlooked, either: he worked at a very high-profile and no doubt high-paying job before this. Does he pay alimony to Nora? We actually don’t know. It’s possible the café ownership keeps him afloat enough that he doesn’t have to touch his savings, but he could have a substantial amount of them, even though it’s obvious he used some of those to buy out Gowen’s half of the café. Still, early-seasons Bill was something of a workaholic, so even when he was making a lot of money, it’s doubtful he had the time or inclination to spend it. He could still have a sizable amount of it left after 30 years in the field!
But Henry? He’s poor. We’ve established this. He more or less came crawling back to town and had to take what was offered to him: a position at the bottom of the lumber mill totem pole. But he worked it and he didn’t complain.
So again, my question: where’s the money coming from? How can Henry competitively bid against Bill at this point?
Are they both intending to take out a loan or is part of Bill’s offer that he can pay in cash? I’m curious to see how they juggle it, but I really hope Henry’s stint as being poor isn’t just…overlooked. If he has to take out a loan for it, I’d be fine with it; I really love the idea of Henry getting that businessman spark back and taking a risk because of it! But I guess we’ll have to see.
As far as Abigail’s best suitor goes: my answer is Frank. I feel pretty sure that he was just about everything she needed in a partner. He wanted to communicate, he worked through things, he was good at talking about his feelings, he brought her flowers, he spent time with her, he had family meals with her and Cody… The list goes on. They were a great match! It’s unfortunate that he was written off the show.
As for Abigail and Bill…I have to agree with you.
But I should disclaim my post.
I don’t see them as romantically inclined toward one another at all—in fact, I can’t watch their dating scenes in early episodes without cringing because it just feels awkward and performative to me. But if the show can will-they won’t-they with Henry and Abigail, it feels kind of yucky to me that we never even got a sincere discussion between Bill and Abigail about what happened between them, let alone a genuine apology and acceptance scene.
Don’t get me wrong; they make amazing friends. I loved the end of S5 when he went to Abigail because he knew she’d get it—she’d get him, even the things he couldn’t make himself say.
But there’s something to be said for attraction and what a person wants in a relationship at different times in their lives, too.
Let me explain.
When Abigail met Bill, she was just starting to move past the grief of losing her husband and son. That’s not an easy thing to do. But it’s like she says in S1: “Life goes on for all of us.” Abigail didn’t want to steep herself in grief forever. She wanted to move on. And Bill, unrelated to the accident but in town to help solve it and give her peace of mind, was the perfect…I don’t know. He wasn’t a “rebound guy” but for lack of a better term, let’s call him that. He wasn’t that well-suited to her but he was available and she needed…some of what he was capable of offering right away—especially assurance and (lawful) action.
She was married from the cusp of womanhood until her husband died, so it’s doubtful she had a line of beaus on a string in her youth. Abigail never played the courting game. But here she is years later, a widow ready to try and move on…and Bill shows up and is nice to her, respectful, kind of charming, and sincerely helpful…and at this point in her life, that’s exactly what she needs! She needs someone who feels dependable and can take care of her in the way she needs taken care of, which at this point was…bringing her peace of mind/bringing justice to the town and the men who died: her immediate needs (that could be fulfilled by a non-suitor Bill, too, by the way).
But Abigail was having a nice time. Again, a good-lookin’ guy comes to see you and talk to you and tells you that your cooking is great and that you look nice…and you’re not wrong and it’s okay to want justice and he’s gonna make sure you get it…
It’s flattering and confidence-boosting. And hey, except for the whole…lying thing, he was the perfect rebound guy. He didn’t want to rush anything; he respected her space; and he actively worked on the things he promised to work on (getting justice for the dead men).
But there were other aspects of Bill that just…didn’t work for her and probably still wouldn’t. He’s an emotional husk most of the time and he’s not a Romantic Man. I don’t know how to explain it, but for an example, let’s go with flowers.
Bill gives her flowers “for the café, to brighten things up.” It’s a romantic overture, but we’re not shown him actually giving them to her so it feels…kind of disconnected. Frank brings Abigail flowers and not only do we see it, everything about it is intended to be romantic. He brings her favorites, demonstrating he knows what she likes; he smiles a lot; he wants to touch her and be touched; he hovers around after and offers to help her with what she’s working on…
Bill does these types of things because it’s expected of him.
But it’s like, you can’t forget the kind of person Bill is, either.
He’s a workaholic at this point in the series. All he does is work. And he was in a marriage for an indeterminate number of years (anywhere from 15 to 25 of them) with someone he didn’t love. “I married her as a favor to her father.” Bill never had to romance his wife; he married her out of obligation—because her father made sure he got his schooling.
Bill is the guy who, at least at this time, did things because “that’s what you do.” It’s almost like he’s following a manual. You give flowers to the woman you’re courting. You offer your arm. You say romantic things. Or in the case of his job, you follow the rules, you fill out the proper paperwork in the right order. You submit cases on time. In the case of Nora and her father, too. He did you a life-changing favor so you need to do one for him, too.
Because he’s just doing what’s expected, the things he does don’t feel romantic when you have time to think about them (and compare them to others). It’s like taking out the trash because it’s expected of you, or doing the dishes. That’s what these kinds of things seem to be to him, at least when he’s low-key courting Abigail: they’re tasks. He’s just doing them to check them off the list; there’s not much feeling in them and personal preference isn’t taken into consideration.
Which brings me back to Bill’s, uh, emotional constipation.
He was definitely lying in S1/S2 when he didn’t admit he was Divorce Pending. But even at moments where Abigail was trying to communicate feelings to him, he was just…completely avoidant. Remember this scene?
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Yeah, the way he just…segues away from feelings or attachment is cringey. It’s hard to watch a second (or third, or fourth) time. Bill is Bad At Feelings (dealing with the ones he has AND admitting when he doesn’t have them), and Abigail needs someone who is good at them: at understanding what they’re feeling and why, and a person who is willing to regularly and effectively try to communicate them with her.
(Just quickly here I want to point out that Bill’s emotional constipation may have been why he and Dottie didn’t work out, too, though the writers sort of dropped the ball on that one… And it’s why he was so mean to AJ in S5; this man literally can’t talk about his feelings short of an actual breakdown, and that is NOT the kind of thing most people are equipped to deal with. And to be fair to the Dottie/Bill relationship, him cooking for her was a marked improvement in him trying to court a lady, but there are aspects of it that just feel like he’s just checking off boxes.)
This is mostly why I prefer that Abigail and Bill just…stay friends. Because neither of them need to settle for a romantic relationship they’re not wholly into, but also…they both need very different things in a relationship; they just don’t seem compatible to me that way.
So sure, Abigail thought he was pretty good-lookin’ when he showed up, and he’s nice to spend time with, but everything beyond that isn’t really her cup of tea: he doesn’t forgive easily; he holds grudges; he’s extremely independent; he doesn’t like asking for help; he’s terrible at communicating feelings; etc. So I mean, even if he improves in the feelings department, it’s probably not going to matter enough.
Bill’s needs matter too, of course, and Abigail fulfills some of them, but not all of them: he really needs someone who’s gonna call him out, keep him on his toes/things from getting boring or stagnant; he needs an opinionated complaining partner; he needs someone who knows their own heart well but who will also understand his without him having to spell everything out/their feelings getting hurt when he doesn’t spell it out for them; etc.
And I mean, it really sucks because they do have a few things that are good for one another. And for what it’s worth, I think they could make a relationship work if they had to/felt inclined to. Bill isn’t very good at compromising, but Abigail’s better at it. Still, would they both be happy, or would it ultimately just rob them of their ability to be and feel independent? Bill doesn’t like being told what to do and he’d HATE having to, say, be home at a certain time. I think when he met Abigail, that wasn’t important to him, but now it is. He likes being able to do what he wants, when he wants to do it.
(Which reminds me of Frank, who spent a lifetime extremely independent but was more than happy to have someone to answer to; the issue between he and Abigail was that he needed that expectation communicated to him; that was it! I feel like Bill would find it stifling and ultimately it could breed resentment.)
Anyway, I don’t disagree with your message. I think if things had been written differently, if Bill’s character had gone in a different direction maybe, they’d be more suited to one another right now.
As far as Abigail and Henry goes… I pretty much loathe the idea of them as a romantic couple, so if you’re ever down for a good rant: feel free to hit me up privately. That said, I want to be fair to the characters in terms of like, feeling attraction…or uhhh the lack thereof if you interpret anybody as asexual!
At the end of the day, it’s not unreasonable to think that Abigail could be attracted to Henry.
Maybe she was attracted to Bill at one point, but no longer is (mainly because she’s realized they’re just not that romantically compatible, even though they get on great as friends). And maybe she finds Henry attractive even despite the things he’s done, because, uh… I don’t know, he looks THAT GOOD in a hat and scarf.
I still think the writing surrounding Henry and Abigail is weak, though. Like you said, he was complicit in the deaths of her husband and son. He’ll need a lot more redemption material before I’ll buy into Abigail being romantically interested in him. An attraction? SURE. She’s not blind! But more than that? I hope it doesn’t happen.
Actually, right now I’m kind of hoping Abigail just stays single for a couple of seasons while they focus on other romantic plots that are in town, like Jesse and Clara, and Rosemary and Lee. Abigail needs a little less focus for S6…and I’d prefer it remain romantic-free.
(Don’t forget, we’re getting a storyline for her that’s a two-parter about someone from her past! I’m still hoping it’s one of her brothers, though. That’d be SO cool.)
But that’s just personal opinion, y’know? I’ve noticed that over on Instagram, the fans are really divided in the different Abigail-relationship camps. It’s kind of cool that everyone gets something different out of each type of relationship presented…and of course, seeing everybody’s different interpretation of the characters is fun, too.
So I’m not saying, “you can’t ship X” because you can enjoy whatever it is you like. This is just my interpretation. ♥
(Sorry if there are any mistakes, I didn’t really proofread this multiple times as usual. Let me know if you see anything glaring!)
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ecoutez-moi · 4 years ago
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part 5 - gratefulness in our lives
DAY  27  - MONDAY - March 15
Adreanna C.
Of course! I am grateful for:
1. God & His many blessings
2. Family
3. Friends
4. Great health
5. Being in my right mind
6. Remaining financially stable during these hard times
7. Having a roof over my head
8. Having so much love & support surrounded around me
9. The mistakes I’ve made & continue to make every now & then because I only learn from them
10. LIFE
DAY 28 TUESDAY- March 16
Sophia C.
10 things I’m grateful for
1. A steady job that allows me to have a income to not only purchase what I need but also little wants that bring me joy.
2. A group of work friends who takes me as I am. They listen to my Debbie downer complaining when I feel burnt out and take in my over-the-top extra-ness when I feel motivated without making me feel bad about being either way.
3. A healthy and relatively smooth first pregnancy with only annoying but not-too-scary symptoms or complications.
4. Being able to spend time with my family and have them feed me/talk to me while transitioning to a new place.
5. Having the financial means to get a bigger place.
6. Having support from my partner during an isolating time.
7. Having different types of friends and relationships to lean on in different aspects of my life- an empathetic brother and an aggressive sister to stand up for me in the stuff that I’m too meek in.
8. The recovery of my family after health scares.
9. A body that allows me to live and enjoy life.
10. The experiences and relationships that brought me to where I am today and continue to help me grow as a person.
Rachel C.
Rachel’s Gratitude List
   •    A safe place to live
   •    A caring partner in life
   •    My health
   •    The ability to find the positive in a situation rather than getting stuck in the negative.
   •    Access to clean water to drink
   •    A way to make a living in the midst of this pandemic.
   •    Food 😊
DAY 29 WEDNESDAY - March 17
Didi
Today I’m grateful to wake u p  and still can see a beautiful view of the sky. A fresh smell in  the morning. A good breakfast which tastes so amazing even if it ‘s just a scrambled egg. A peace of mind I had because I wake up to live like there’s no tomorrow. Love and Bless <3 
Maritza
I’m grateful for everything
Happiness friends and love Nd  music
DAY 30 Thursday  - March 18
Kristin D. 
I am grateful for:
1. Loving parents and family
2. Friends
3. Health
4. Safe shelter
5. Food provision
6. Current employment
7. The opportunity to sit still (this is spiritual)
8. New bible study
9. Mentoring program
10. Lessons that I will learn from the last 2 difficult weeks
Ivy F.
1. Yoga
2. Breathing
3. Fresh foods
4. My parents
5. Support of friends
6. Hope for change
7. Rain & sunshine
8. Simply feeling - allowing myself to get more comfortable with openly feeling my emotions
9. A laugh that hurts so good
10. A bright smile
Justus W.
Grateful for strength and wisdom in my marriage!
Grateful for the trials I’ve been through that added clarity to my thinking
Grateful that my mother and brothers are taken care of
Grateful for the gifts God had given me to use.
Grateful that every time anyone negative or crazy is in my life God always exposes them.
Grateful that in my years of cross country driving nothing terrible has ever happened.  
Grateful that God must have a lot of patience with me 😂
Grateful to have a home and safe place.
Grateful that since I turned 18 God has provided for every bill. Never missed a payment on anything
Grateful that I know God. And that if anything on this list ever changed I could still stand on the Word and have faith!
DAY 31 March 19 FRIDAY
Klisha T. 
Hmmmmmm 10 things
About to get the kids to bed but theres so many things lol
For health, for my kids, for healing for Mya, for my husband, for salvation, for God's grace
For our best friends Myo and Natalie
Literally for a place to live
Running water
Food
Is that 10? Lol
DAY 32 March 20 SATURDAY
Vlad S.
My wife
My family
My friends
My dogs
My creativity
Nature
Good food
My neighborhood
Biking
My youth
Kevin M. 
I am grateful for my health - I am
Obviously getting older but I feel like I am healthier than when I was younger. I am feeling the healthiest and most grounded I have felt in a long time.
I am grateful for some space in my life.
I am grateful for the deep, connected friendships I have cultivated over the years. I feel as we all get older these friendships are going to be what sustains me.
I am grateful to be inspired everyday by what people are creating in this world.
I am grateful I get to work at something that interests me.
I am grateful that most days I wake up and can put my energy towards things that excite me.
I am grateful for my mom, dad and my sisters and the family I was born into.
I am grateful I am still very close to my mom and sisters.
I am grateful that I get to live in NYC and that the city still excites and inspires me.
I am grateful for Al-Anon.
I am grateful to be free of any substance addictions in my life.
I am grateful for the natural talents, skills, gifts that I have been given by God and that I can use those everyday to what I do or in service of others.
I am grateful that I have been blessed with the resources that I need to live a comfortable life.
I am grateful that it’s easy for me to see the good in people.
I am grateful that I have a curious mind.
I am grateful that I feel my feelings deeply.
I am grateful that I am nor afraid to cry in front of people.
I am grateful that I always want to be better.
I am grateful for my three children and that they have such big, bold and expressive personalities.
I am grateful for the many years I have had in partnership with Leslie and all the incredible adventures we have had.
I am grateful for the other romantic relationships I have had in my life and the wisdom they have given me.
I am grateful for the times life teaches me how to let go.
I am grateful that alcoholism in my family has given me the opportunity to form a deeper connection to my spirituality.
I am grateful that I have so many things I am grateful for!!!
DAY 33 March 21 SUNDAY
I missed today :( 
DAY 34  March 22 MONDAY
David H.
1. Everyone in My family is healthy
2. Thru this last year where our family members could not meet , my cousins have announced engagements and pregnancies so our family is growing
3. Work is good , the word is getting out that I’m not bad at this
4. In a world where ppl have a difficult time
This year, my business has thrived
5. My perspective on life is more keen
6. I have the capability to low you now as a passerby than I did years ago when I was closer
7. God was always with me. But I only see him now
8. From our last conversation you’re in better place now and I’m thankful for that
IM so happy for you. I couldn’t genuinely say that years ago
9. Perspective
10. Christina, you’re a bigger part of my life than you know.  I’D kill for you
DAY 35 MARCH 23 TUESDAY
Chrissy K.
My ten.. I’m grateful..
- even though my sanity and energy is tested everyday- I’m grateful for this extra time I’m having with the kids, to watch them grow in small ways everyday
- most of family and friends have been healthy (or able to recover), safe, financially stable during the pandemic
- being able to ride out half of the pandemic in San Diego, meaning more space, more things for the kids to do ie, zoo, beaches, closer to cousin
-having access to some beautiful outdoors
- great weather so we weren’t cooped up inside all year
- super humbling and challenging living with the in-laws.. but grateful charlie and Benny are able to bond with them
- the timing of things.. bro was out in ny right before pandemic hit so was able to help At the store, in-laws decided to go to Korea for extended time so it allowed us to have time alone in sd, my maternity leave rolled right into quarantine
- food
-korean dramas 😂 keeping it real- turned into korean lady putting on kdrama while I do dishes and cook
- finally able to drink again.. pass that glass of wine or beer
DAY 36 MARCH 24 WEDNESDAY
Shav G. 
1. my health
2. my sleep schedule
3. my ever supportive family
4. my friends i get to jam with every day
5. my studio being close by
6. the city that inspires me every day
7. my recent boom in love interests 🤣
8. my view
9. my doormen they’re my bff’s
10. my drive to do better
Anne C.
[11:17 PM, 3/24/2021] Anne C: this is amazing - love that you're creating and holding space for something positive.
[11:17 PM, 3/24/2021] Anne C: life has been very tough - giving me a beating with what its throwing at me.
[11:18 PM, 3/24/2021] Anne C: so I'll like to say i'm grateful for strength
DAY 37 MARCH 25 THURSDAY
Marion G.
What a great idea! I would love to!
1. My family
2. Good health
3. Great friends (you included!)
4. Coffee in the morning
5. A good night's sleep (when I get one)
6. The time I've been able to spend with my kids this past year.
7. Peace of mind
8. Having a job during these difficult times
9. Wine
10. Music
What a great exercise to do first thing in the morning! Miss you!! ❤
Bonnie Y.
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DAY 38  MARCH 26 FRIDAY
Sina W.
1. My parents. They’ve really been there for me through the challenges of covid & especially through the break up. Paying for therapy & spending a lot of time with me watching shows and just crying was very needed.
2. Ty. I would say “my friends” but I haven’t seen my friends like that. I spend every day with Ty lol. He is my friend soulmate and I hope everyone finds a friend like him. He walked me to my apartment every night when I was being harassed by my ex, let me crash with him, fed me, and above all has made incredible sacrifices to be a part of this music journey with me and I can’t thank him enough.
3. Nature. I’ve spent a lot of time connecting with nature, reading about nature, and sitting in nature. It’s been very meditative and helped me keep a level head.
4. Music. Just grateful to do what I love & be able to take everything I’m feeling and turn it into something tangible and productive. It has been my saving grace through quarantine and I don’t know what I’d be doing if I didn’t have it.
5. Edibles lol. Between October and February my anxiety was through the roof. I’ve been through a lot of shit recently and thank god there’s been something to take the edge of sometimes.
6. Books. I’ve read 20 books since Christmas. I’ve been really excited about learning recently. Everything from meditation to the ice age to gentrification. It’s given me a lot of perspective and makes me really happy.
7. My sister. We recently started getting a lot closer and I always hoped that would happen.
8. My DOG. He makes me so happy. Like pure joy. I love him so much.
9. The sun. Not very common in Portland but every week we may get a sunny day and every time it happens it’s a reminder that this will be over soon. When the world was open, the clouds didn’t bug me so much. But now I look forward to the sun like no other.  
10. BLAZER GAMES. Omg. I have not missed a game this season. It gives me something to look forward to & they are so fun to watch.
Anna B.
1. My health
2. Friends
3. Intuition
4. Abundance
5. Setting boundaries
6. Mindfulness
7. Family
8. Frank
9. Creativity
10. Feeling safe
DAY  39 MARCH 27  SATURDAY
Jon R.
10 things I’m grateful for.
1. Friendship with genuine connection
2. Like minded individuals/creatives
3. My family (we’ve been dysfunctional for years but a new leaf has turned over and we’re all making a strong effort to be a better unit)
4. My litter brother finally making the choice to better his life and get off the streets
5. God!
6. My girlfriend
7. You. (we can go months without talking but we always pick up where we left off. Since day 1 you’ve been an honest friend who’s opinion I value and I love you dearly)
8. Fashion
9. Music
10. Good health
DAY 40 MARCH 28 SUNDAY
Allie G.
Hey Christina!!! Hope you are doing swell(: hmmm 10 things?
My friends
My house
The weather today 🔆
Healthy body
Healthy mind
Avocados
Live music
Laughter
The ocean
And YOU for allowing me to sit and think about that
DAY  41 MARCH 29 MONDAY
Ray T.
I’m grateful for the almost 25 years of friendship with Christina Chow Mein
Ann K.
Hi Christina,
I hope you’re doing well!
Today I am thankful for:
1. the Hubs (today is our anni)
2. having all our needs met everyday
3. healthy kids
4. getting to and from work safely
5. growing garden seedlings
6. COVID vaccine
7. teachers
8. consistently having work to do
9. longer hours of daylight
10. friends that remind me of God’s goodness
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greekowl87 · 7 years ago
Text
Fic: False Flags Redux 6/13
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) | AO3
A/N: A massive thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie to helping get this project to where it is today. Next week there is some going on the run. Thanks for sticking around!
Tagging @today-in-fic
P.S. Want the story all in one neat little place? Click the AO3 link above.
6/13
Norfolk, Virginia December 15, 1998
Scully sat crossed legged on the center of her hotel bed wearing jeans, an old University of Maryland hoodie, and her glasses. In front of her, she had case notes, autopsy files, and toxicology reports spread out around her like a sea. On her knee was a notebook and a pen that she held, bouncing it up and down on the college ruled lines in thought. Her mind was everywhere and she could not focus. Memories of a different lifetime and the unsettling memories of the past couple days. She pinched her nose and pushed the glasses to rest on top of her head.
None of this made sense. Seriously, how many times had she repeated that statement since coming down here? How many times had she read the same reports in front of her? She felt like she was being torn into two separate people but she was ultimately still the same person. Unconsciously, she did not notice her hand holding the pen begin to move unconsciously. She was brought out of her thoughts by a light knocking on her hotel room door. She pushed the notebook off her knee and swam through the sea of files to the edge of the bed.
“What? You not dressed?” came an amusing voice from the other side.
She smiled slightly at the familiar teasing and opened the door. “I could not decide what shirt to wear for you.”
Mulder smiled at Scully and wordless walked into her room without invitation. “I dig the UMD shirt. Supporting the old alumni?”
“Yep,” she replied. Scully shut the door softly behind her, noticing Mulder had found her sea of files. “I was just trying to do some thinking.”
“Thinking? Is that what you call it? It looks more like you were trying to drown yourself in information. Quite literally. What is all this?”
“I was trying to get a clue.”
“A clue?”
“An idea. Anything. With all this,” she replied, waving her hand at the side of her head.
Mulder looked at her in surprise. “You, Dana Scully, are actually entertaining the idea of a past life? My, my, haven't the tables turned.”
She shrugged uselessly. “I have nothing else to go on. How do explain what is going on?”
Mulder silently surveyed the files and picked up the notebook that she had been doodling on. His eyes read over the script somehow recognizing it. “Scully, did you write this?”
She arched her eyebrow cautiously. “Write what?”
She took the notepad and read the flowing script. “Mulder, this isn't my handwriting. You know what my handwriting looks like.”
He squinted at it, bringing the notepad closer for inspection. “It sort of looks like yours,” he mused, “if you took a calligraphy course. But it is still your handwriting. But the message...I recognize it. I've seen it before. I feel like I wrote it to you and then gave it to you.”
Scully read the note quickly as it described how their meetings need to be more constant and something about troop movements and Union lines. “Mulder, I don't know what this is. It's probably nothing.”
“I wouldn't call this nothing. I've seen it before,” he said. “I'm positive, Scully. I just don't know where.” He sighed and took the notebook and tossed it onto the bed, his eyes lingering on it heavily. “Try not to think about it right now, Scully. We still have dinner.”
“How can we have dinner at a time like this when there is a crazed murderer out there?” she asked softly.
“Because you are overworking yourself. You're running yourself into the ground. Ever since these dreams started, you're stretching yourself thin,” he said softly. She opened her mouth to reply but he cut her off. “Don't say 'I'm fine' too. I know you're not. We both know.”
She closed her mouth and her eyes. “I can't seem to focus,” she admitted softly. She closed her eyes. “Everything is just so...cloudy.” Scully opened her eyes and gazed at her partner. “You think I'm crazy.”
“Maybe a little air will do you good,” Mulder suggested and changed the subject. “Let's go to dinner. This will be here when we get back. The front desk lady was telling me about this seafood restaurant by Chic's Beach, like literally right on the beach, and we can see the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel at night.”
“I swear you are trying to romance me,” she mused softly. She took off her glasses and got her jacket. “All this food. Or you want something. Or maybe you are planning to ditch me for an alien corpse again.”
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I would never...well, at any rate, I promise to take you with me if I did. Anyways, I know the way to your heart is to your stomach. Just like mine. Usually, it's chocolate, but tonight, it's steak and fresh seafood..”
“Or you're just trying to make me fat. What happened to smart is sexy, Mulder?”
“Fat or not,” he shrugged. “I like you just the way you are, sexy smartness included.”
She chuckled and with a roll of her eyes, they left to go to dinner.
. . . .
Norfolk, Virginia April 15, 1862
As was the tradition when he finished up his day in the war office, Mulder walked the streets of Free Mason and jogged lightly up the steps to the familiar brick house before he lightly knocked on the door. The door opened slightly and the maid, Martha, smiled in greeting. “Lieutenant, it is a pleasure to see you,” she said.
“You as well, Miss Martha,” he said, bowing slightly and kissing her hand, causing the old servant to blush. “Is Mrs. Buchanan in?”
“Yes, sir. She is expecting you. She is up in the study. May I take your coat?”
“Yes, please.” He took off the long overcoat and passed it to her. “Thank you, ma'am.”
She laughed. “You are such a charmer, Lieutenant Mulder! May I say, sir, it is rather noble of you to watch over the captain's wife during his absence.”
“Oh, yes,” he answered absently. He took a deep breath, smiling a soup from the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Oh, thank you, sir! My mother's own personal recipe for beef stew!”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“Shall I announce you're arrival.”
“No, no. I much prefer to surprise her. Mrs. Buchanan is expecting me after all.”
. . . .
Scully sat at her writing desk in the study and read the correspondence from her mother sadly. Her father was ill and had come home from sea. Bill was somewhere in Europe. Melissa somewhere in Paris. Charlie, Mama Scully did not know where her baby boy was. Scully was the last one to have contact with him the year before when he had set up for the spy network for Dana. And now, Dana was the only child she was able to reach out to and count still alive. She was so absorbed in her reading, she failed to hear the door open as Mulder entered and called her name out softly. “Scully, you still awake?” he teased softly.
She jumped and clutched the letter to her chest. “Mulder!” She hastily placed the letter down and got up and forced a smile. “I was not expecting you for at least another hour.”
“I was able to leave the war office early,” he said softly, watching her. “I'm sorry for startling you. It was not my intention. I managed to bring the information you requested.”
“What information,” she asked distractedly. He pulled a small folded paper from his shell jacket and placed it on the desk in front of her. She opened it immediately as her eyes raked over the information. “How the hell did you managed to sneak this out?”
“I am a man of many talents,” he said softly, tapping his temple. “Photographic memory and that is only the beginnings of it. My newest post allows access to so much from navel information to troop movements. This is what I did before being forced to join the marines. I guess I should thank your husband for ordering me to be your moral compass during his absence.”
“A blessing in disguise in more ways than one.” She looked at him questioningly. “Is it true he cried like a child?”
“Where did you hear that?”
She flashed him a pleasing smile. “I have my ways,” she teased. “But tell me, Mulder, is it?”
“He cried on the ship. He was a bit more...somber once back on land.” He gave a weak smile. “I would not necessarily say that but he was a bit overly dramatic.”
“He acted childishly,” she smirked.
“A bit.”
She smiled at him as they shared a quiet moment together. Gently she took his hand and squeezed it. “It's so good to see you again, Mulder, I've missed you and I appreciate the constant company now. Franklin was suffocating as a husband and I loved it when he was away.”
“That does not sound like the mark of a happy marriage,” he replied dryly.
“The marriage is anything but happy. I've told you how unhappy I am with Franklin, Mulder. More than anything, it is convenient, for him and for my family. The man is almost thirty years old than myself,” she sighed. “If I were to have his child, not only would I be legally bound to him, I would be bringing a child into a loveless family. I could never do that, Mulder.”
“Would you ever want a child?” he asked softly, the conversation taking a turn to towards a more intimate, personal nature.
“Of course,” she confessed after a long moment. She smiled, a little flustered by the line of questioning.“But only if I could raise it properly. I have no identity with my husband, I have no money, I have nothing without him. To him, I’m expected to run the household and be the upstanding step-mother to his other nine children, not that I have anything against them. I’m just so unhappy around him. If only you could understand! Talking to you, Mulder, is like a breath of fresh air. I am someone in your eyes. I have a voice. I'm a person to you.” She stopped herself. “I apologize. Are you hungry?”
“Don’t ever apologize,” he said softly. “You never have to apologize to me. And you are more than just a person to me, Scully.”
Scully chuckled lightly. “Well obviously, you don’t know me very well.”
“I would like to,” he replied, hesitating, “if you would let me.”
She was caught off guard by the intimacy of his comment. She brushed off the statement by ignoring it completely. She still questioned why she had gone to his barracks on the eve of the ironclad battle and what had possessed her to give him that rosary. It was a whim, a flight of fancy, she rarely let herself indulge in. Neither one of them brought up that night again although she did catch glimpses of the blue crystal rosary beneath his uniform jacket. “We’re just partners,” she said dismissively.
“Just partners,” he repeated, leaning against the desk. “I like to indulge in the thought we are more. Friends? Our letters over the past month or so indicate a little more than just partners, or at the very least friends.”
“I am a married woman,” she whispered.
“I am not contesting that,” he said, taking a deep breath, “or even suggesting it, Scully. We work together, yes? What is a partnership if it does not have trust?”
“I trust you,” she defended. “I trust you with my life. I trust you not to betray me and I know you expect likewise from me.”
“But to truly trust someone, it must be completely, especially in this case.”
“What is the line of this questioning, Mulder? Why are you pursuing this?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I cannot trust the men I survive and serve with. I do not trust my own family. For so long it has just been me. I need someone to trust. We need to completely trust each other if this arrangement is to fully benefit.”
“Why have you grown so formal with me all of a sudden,” she cried. He was silent as he looked out the window in thought. “Mulder?”
“Someone came by today,” he said slowly. “He was not in uniform with nothing distinguishing about him. He was inquiring about your husband and yourself. Nothing out of the ordinary it seemed but he found it peculiar that the captain’s wife was not with him while he is recovering from his thigh wound. His name was Krychek. Alexandar Krychek.”
“What on Earth is he talking about? I’ve spent years away from Franklin.” She got up and paced slightly. “Did he ask you anything?”
Mulder shook his head no slowly. “No, however, I do not want an instance to arise where we are caught at a disadvantage. I do not suspect he knows anything but we never know. That is why we need to be completely honest with each other, no matter what.”
“I told you, I trust you with my life,” she defended.
“As I do with mine, but, Scully, do you trust me? Trust me in every sense of the word?”
“Of course! Why are you asking me this? Do you trust me to that degree?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “But it cannot be one-sided. What if something happens? What if you withhold information…”
“I would never do that!” she snapped, disliking the way the conversation was turning. She turned to face him angrily. “Where are these accusations coming from?” He was quiet, her eyes inspecting her intensely. Unconsciously, she shivered under his gaze. “Mulder, stop staring at me, please. You are making me very uncomfortable.”
“I apologize.” He looked down at his feet for a second, trying to find the courage to speak again to her. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Mrs. Buchanan?”
She flinched at the use of her formal title and married name and closed her eyes as if in pain. “Scully. Just Scully.”
Mulder watched her with an inquisitive eye as she paced in front of him, frustrated. “I cannot stop thinking about you, you know?” she said quietly. She slowed her pacing and watched him carefully. “Ever since that night, I came to your barracks. I do not know what possessed me that night. I dream about you when I close my eyes. In my heart, I know I belong to you and no one else. Have I lost my mind, Mulder? Am I crazy?”
“Why are you bringing this up now?” he questioned, watching her stoic face for any sign. “We have conversed freely for the past few weeks, ever since the night when I agreed to work with you. Is my information not reliable enough?”
“No!” She waved her hand widely. “No! That’s not it. It’s…” She sighed, trying to collect herself. “Ever since that night, have you not felt differently?”
“Different how?”
“Like, you were older than you actually were. Like you have been someone else. You belong to someone else.”
“I cannot say that I have,” he lied.
Scully instantly felt foolish of herself. “Never mind.”
“If you feel it is important to all this…”
“It is not. I appreciate you coming by tonight. Have you found new accommodations at your new post?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been sleeping on a cot for the past couple of weeks in the office. It is a step up from the hammock that was on the ironclad.” He shrugged. “Is that why you summoned me here?”
“No. Well, yes. Partly. I have been concerned with the rumors I have been hearing about the battles raging on the peninsula,” she said softly. “I worry.”
“Why? The fighting is far away,” he shrugged. “I have faith that the warring armies will not come here to Norfolk.”
Scully was silent.
“You think otherwise.”
“The Confederacy is losing this war,” she told him evenly. He continued to stare at her quietly as if it was supposed to mean something. “Why are you just staring?”
“Of course I know they are losing this war. The Union will be here in due time, of that I have no doubt. Are you worried about your husband or yourself? I assure you that they will come but you should be safe.”
Why was he speaking her with such detachment? What had changed since she had last seen him a month and half ago. “Why are you speaking to me in such a manner?”
Mulder shifted uncomfortably and gazed out the window. Since the ironclad battle, he had been feeling different himself. He could not exactly place it. He kept up his correspondence and spying with her as he had promised, but kept himself at arm's length. He also did his best to inquire about her welfare per his captain’s orders, but he still did not want to grow too close. But he was. He had started having strange dreams about her as well. He felt stranger feelings that burning in him about Scully. That night in the barracks had startled him and awoken something within him, but he did not know what, just that it kept growing with intensity.
“You are not the only one who has felt...strange,” he whispered.
“It was the rosary, was it not?” Scully said softly, lowering her eyes. “I apologize for being so bold.”
“No, no,” he said instantly. “You were not.”
He was quiet.
“Then why have you avoided me? I can tell in our correspondence that you are purposely keeping me away.”
“I am trying to keep you safe,” he admitted. “I am no good to be around, I am a soldier, and not to mention our little ring. I breed danger. Everyone around me gets hurt.”
“Keep me safe,” she scoffed. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, Mulder, I assure you.”
He bit his lip, refraining from saying anything else damaging or revealing. “Of that, I have no doubt. Maybe...maybe I am the wrong one for this. Maybe you need someone who is more...headstrong. Maybe you made a mistake with me.”
She arched her eyebrow in surprise. “A mistake? What makes me think I made a mistake?” she deadpanned. He looked away and out the window. “Mulder, look at me in the eye.”
“I must be going,” he said softly. “Expect my next report within the week.”
“No.” He turned to leave but was caught off guard by her boldness as she grabbed his hand and stilled him with her other hand on his arm. “Stop being a martyr. Why do you treat your self so poorly?” She hesitated before pushing a loose strand of his hair away from his face. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”
She continued to amaze him time and time again and her intimate gesture just continued to add to that shock. He blinked, clearing his mind but found himself leaning into her touch. “Stop what? The truth?”
“I will slap you if I must to knock some sense into you,” she threatened. “You need to realize that you are worth something, you are worth something to me, even if you see it.”
“Where is this coming from?” he questioned in a low voice.
“I do not know,” she whispered in awe of her own words. Scully looked at him curiously. Drawing in a deep breath, she asked, “Will you still stay?”
He nodded into her hand as she withdrew it. “As long as you desire.”
“You can trust me, Mulder, I promise,” she said softly.
In a moment, Mulder threw his caution to the wind and grabbed Scully possessively. His arm coiled around her waist and his free hand forced her head upwards to meet her in an earth shattering kiss. Scully gasped and mentally willed to pull herself away, but she could not. No. She pulled back slightly and smiled before lunging forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the second kiss. This felt right. He was right. Mulder hummed in approval, hitched her skirts up, and carried them towards the couch in the study.
. . . .
Chic’s Beach, Virginia Beach December 16, 1998
Scully smiled to herself hearing the gentle sound of the Chesapeake Bay’s small waves washing on shore as they got out of the car in the parking lot to a red building that overlooked the bay and the bridge in the distance. It felt a little weird to her to be doing something outside of work with her partner, dressed in jeans, sweatshirts, sneakers, and jackets...actual regular clothes. It almost felt like a date with the restaurant they had arrived at, but it was not, and she needed to keep reminding herself that.
“Wow,” Mulder said as he took in the view of the lighted bridge reflecting over the bay for as far as the eye could see. “Wonder how long it is.”
“Twenty-three miles,” she answered quickly. “Well, close to it anyways. They’re working on an expansion.”
“You really are smarter than me, Scully. You know that?” he teased.
“Well, I won’t go around telling everyone. Don’t worry, Mulder.”
He smiled, glad to see Scully a little lighter and a bit more herself. He was worried about her (as he should be!) but she would never let him fawn over her. She had been acting a little out of character the past few days but tonight, she seemed back to her old self. In some respect. “So, you going to get the most expensive thing on the menu, Scully?”
“With your g-man salary? You bet. At this rate, I’m going to drain your savings account if you keep buying me all these dinners,” she said softly. “Not to mention the pounds.”
“You need to do more than bee pollen and yogurt, Scully.” His hand found its familiar place on the small of her back. “Come on, let’s go wine and dine.”
. . . .
The low lights and quiet atmosphere settled over the FBI agents like a favorite blanket that you wrap yourself in on a cold winter night. Scully had found herself loosening up, opening up, and laughing like the young agent she used to be six years ago. Mulder kept it light, laughing as he did, rejoicing in her relaxed state. It was all too rare.
“You really don’t have to do this, Mulder,” she began, “you know this right?”
The hostess led them to a small intimate booth near the window. The restaurant was not that big to begin with. Five booths lined the wall where in the middle of the restaurant where a few tables here and there and across the dining room, against the other wall, was a small bar with a fancy collection of beer and liquor bottles on display. Mulder waved his hand as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
“No worries, Scully,” he said. He opened the menu and glanced at it. “They got loads of seafood to pick from.”
“What makes you think I want seafood?” She arched an eyebrow and looked down at the menu herself. “Oh, this looks interesting, seafood nachos.”
“Sounds disgusting,” he said. “Now here’s something you don't see every day: seafood mac and cheese. I think you'll love it because you’re a daughter of a navy captain. Water’s in your blood, especially since the human body is made up of 80 percent of water.”
“Look at you being all scientific. But how is that any better?” she cried.
“More seafood to pick from. Your nachos just have crab meat. Which,” he held up a finger, stopping her from starting a rebuttal, “is nothing wrong with it.”
She shook her head and looked down at the menu. “When was the last time we did something like this, Mulder?”
“What?”
“Just...hang out,” Scully replied after a moment.
A waiter appeared before them and smiled. Scully glanced at Mulder, smiling and raising her eyebrows suspensefully. “Good evening, folks. My name is Jared and I wll be taking care of you. Can I start you off with an appetizer?”
She looked at Mulder and gave him a devilish smile which he returned. “Whatever you want, Scully,” he told her, motioning to the menu with his hand.
“Crab dip,” she said excitedly. She glanced at Jared. “We’ll start of with that and can we get two hurricanes, and oh, water for both of us.”
“Wonderful choices,” he replied writing down their order. “We are featuring a few specials if you would like to hear them?” She nodded. “Excellent! So we have two. The first is a grilled mahi mahi with crab imperial on top with a choice of two sides. The second is a surf and turf. We have an eight ounce sirloin cooked with eight locally caught shrimp, also with a choice of two sides.”
“What do you say, Mulder?” She raised her eyebrow. “We can share.”
“Medium on the steak?”
“Medium rare.”
“Sounds good.” He closed her menu and took hers as well, passing them off the waiter. “We’ll have one of each.”
Jared nodded and wrote down the order. “And do you what sides would you like?”
“Mac and cheese and green beans?” He glanced at Scully and she nodded. “Whatever the lady desires.”
“Wonderful. All get that all in for you. Let me know if I can do anything for you in the meantime.”
. . . .
Scully did not know what had caused it. All throughout dinner, she felt bubbly, warm. It was probably all the wine and good food, and the good company. Scully did not want to say it aloud but it felt like a date. Was this a date? Mulder was smiling at her, talking about something.  All this new intimacy (or was it old intimacy), it was beginning to put things in a different perspective.
“You know,” she began, taking the wine glass and swirling the last little bit, “we never do this.”
“What?”
“Hang out. We're friends, wouldn’t you say?” she asked slowly.
“Of course. You're my best friend.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “Who else is going to let me call them at two a.m. with wild theories. And besides, I did offer to buy you a drink that one time right when we started working together.”
“Five years ago when you were meeting one of your shadowy informants does not count.”
He shrugged. “What are you trying to say, Scully? You would want to do more of this? Putting up with my sorry ass in public?”
She gave a smile small and nodded. Mulder gave her a warm smile as well. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and set it on his dirty plate. “Well, I am stuffed. How about you?”
“I can’t move.”
“So, we’re like two blocks away from the bay. Let’s go check it out. We can put our leftovers in the car.”
Scully arched her eyebrow suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with Mulder?”
He laughed and motioned for the check. After he paid it, they strolled down the short street to a plankway that led down to the beach. Scully took a moment to listen to the cars passing over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and how the street lights mirrored on the bay, casting just enough light to see the gentle ebbing waves. Mulder nudged her along by placing the small of his hand on her back and began the walk down the shoreline.
“How are you feeling, Scully?”
“Level-headed, probably the first time in days,” she admitted. “It was probably a good thing to take a break from reviewing all those notes.”
Notes, he mused silently, including that random one that was on her notepad that had nothing to do with the case. He would have to ask her about that.
“We still have our work cut out for us though.”
“I know. I’m surprised they’re not making us a part of the manhunt tonight.”
“Don’t question our good fortune. I requested the journal that he kept so we can review it. Maybe we can find something there.”
“That’s more your department than mind.” She wrapped her arms around herself slightly. “No much I can do with it.”
Mulder pursed his lips in thought, unsure of how to approach the subject. “Well, we might gain some better insight if we look at it together.”
“And maybe we can rewatch the interview tapes. I know the prosecution had some prior to his sentencing.”
“How do you think he escaped? Buckley hardly seem the brightest person in the world. He had no past indicating lockpicking skills” She shrugged and he continued in thought. “Maybe we should look at those claims of a past life. Maybe there is a correlation with the Tennessee case and Epishan?”
“What, did you serve in Virginia too?” she teased.
“I honestly don’t think that regression was accurate,” he admitted after a pregnant pause. “I don’t think any of that was right.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t believe in past lives now?”
“Not necessarily. I just don’t think that one was right.”
Mulder needed to do some research about past lives before he even considered approaching Scully with the topic. Ever since she had admitted to the dreams, his brain kept spinning. It started the other day at Buckley’s sentencing and then when the met him in the interview afterwards. Buckley seemed...different somehow in contrast when they first arrested him the year before. And not to mention his own weird dream from the previous morning. He did not remember much but as the day had passed he did remember something. Someone’s blue eyes and those eyes had looked just like Scully’s. They were her eyes. That much he was confident of, along with other things. He cleared his throat unconsciously as he paused and watched her walk further down the beach.
He would do anything for her. But how could he approach the topic of  past lives with her without her dismissing him? He knew there was a connection there between her, Buckley, and himself. He just did not know what. Maybe he could get a better look at that note…
“Mulder.”
He blinked and focused on Scully. “Hm?”
“You ready to go back to the hotel? It’s getting late.”
“Yeah. You ready?”
She nodded. “Thank you, for tonight. I really enjoyed myself.”
“Anytime, Scully,” he said simply. He reclaimed his spot on the small of her back and they began the trek back to their car. “Let’s get going.”
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toddlazarski · 5 years ago
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Chicago Pizza Invasion: Lou Malnati’s & Pizano’s
Shepherd Express
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As a non-native of Milwaukee, I’ll admit, it took me a minute. Maybe two. But, yes, now, half-of-a-lifetime later, I finally hate Chicago in all the appropriate ways. It is expensive and the traffic is terrible. The showoff-y skyline prominently features a one-million-point font all-caps endorsement of the third president to ever be impeached in the United States. O’Hare feels like a teeming abattoir. R. Kelly was born there. Don’t get me started on the Bears, or the Cubs, or their fans that caravan to town with their superiority and Sandburg jerseys to take advantage of our sacred beer n’ brat tailgating culture that their sky-high Lakeview rents and urban stacking could never allow. Then there’s the way all those Illinois folk drive. And the condescension, even when—especially when—they are trying to be nice about our fair burg. If another Chicagoan, upon learning my place of residence, tells me, “Oh, Milwaukee’s actually pretty nice”, I will consider a creed of never traveling south of Kenosha. 
But let's be very clear, and not only with the sober perspective of an outsider, but as an objective possessor of a rotund appetite: Chicago has far better pizza than Milwaukee. 
This is no slight. Chicago has far better pizza than almost anywhere, arguably, New York and Napoli included. It’s status as a world class food city can’t be overstated. It’s allure with the lot of foodies and Food Channel devotees and Eater readers and rock star chefs looking to break through or level up with a second location is almost unparalleled. Whether you put any stock at all in such metrics is inconsequential to the summation that Chicago, in terms of food trends and tastemaking, is important. Combine this with endlessly sprawling neighborhoods of culinary diversity, a deep-rooted tavern culture, and appropriate need-to-stay-warm fortifying fare appetites, and today it has become something like pizza Mecca. They have at least three distinct, world-known styles. There is also plenty of top tier Neapolitan, Roman, New York slicery, Detroit burnt edging, even destination-worthy coal-fired offerings.  
Chicago pizza is so good that you just have to cross the border, end up in a far flung suburb, like, say, Gurnee, and without even trying, be fattened and slice-sated by area micro chains (Bill’s), macro chains (Rosati’s), and weird corner joint one-offs (Wayne’s) that would put most of our best to shame. Over the past few years that same northward Chicago crust creep has continued across state lines, with two of their biggest names now available in Milwaukee: Lou Malnati’s and Pizano’s. You don’t even have to go south of Kenosha. But we do have to maybe shrug off the little brother syndrome so heavily cast by our big shouldered neighbor, and with open minds and guts and wallets, embrace it. 
Lou Malnati's
Over five decades, 50-plus locations, and six-million pizzas served a year, Lou’s—as it is charmingly, colloquially known—has established itself as probably the most successful deep dish pizza operation in Chicago.  
Yet, it’s the thin crust that highlights, that literally underscores, everything so lacking with so much Milwaukee-style: the crust itself is cracker thin, but there is no flop. And if ever a local politician could bridge the gap of divisive rhetoric of the day, a simple platform, put into practice, could rally even the most indifferent: we must stop the flop. Tavern style pizza—as it is known, as it originated in Chicago drinking institutions like Vito & Nick’s and the Home Run Inn, as a snack to nosh on while drinking beer, so that you would want to drink more beer—is supposed to hold up exactly like this. With a golden hue and buttery sheen finish, Lou’s thin square cut pieces have no problem maintaining integrity, structure, needing only one hand and no worry to steer all pertinent toppings at the face. You don’t even need to break concentration from the TV to eat a piece. It holds up to lazy microwaving or any more appropriate rewarming. (The latter is often, to many, painfully necessary—given the Fox Point takeout-only location).    
Cheese is draped as if by a socialist mayor, blanketing, giving generously to every square inch, insulating punchy pepperoni whispers that stay warm just underneath, consistently, strategically placed like unavoidable land mines of salty, beefy Chicago stockyard flavor. The sauce is bright, mostly sweet, a bit tangy, gently herbed, and holds the whole package together in sticky harmony.  
And somehow all this seems entirely unrelated to the fork or two-handed fare that made Malnati’s famous, back when it all started. Though the family tree is tangented and twisted, Lou himself took cues from his dad, Rudy, the proprietor of Pizzeria Uno when that establishment became the O.G. in the deep dish game. It is a simple formula: buttery crust, Wisconsin mozzarella, California tomatoes. Using a bed of triple rise yeast dough, everything is set into a high-sided anodized steel round pan, pushed to the edge and up the inside. There is a patented buttercrust option, with butter folded into said dough. This is obviously a good idea. As is, maybe more surprisingly, the build: dough, cheese, toppings, then sauce. The result is a package with a toothsome mouthfeel, one that is hard to stop working on, like you’re a baby that needs a parent to remind to finish the current bite before starting the next. The sauce acts as counterpoint icing. Tangy, chunky tomato ladles are liberally smacked atop in grandmotherly Sunday gravy bounty, bright enough to contrast the battering ram brunt of the hulk that will fill you up with 2 pieces, tops. But it’s actually not really so much a bomb. (Deep Dish is also not to be confused with “stuffed” pizza—the picture many conjure for the “its not pizza, it’s a quiche” argument against Chicago). It is a fairly reasonable crust, just with a lot of body, strength, a big back. This is pizza that gives a good hug, is a friend that you would ask to help you move. A warm, buttery element fills out the feel of the flaky-crust edges, end bites that have a little char, a little snap, not a small amount of grease. There’s a hint of burnt cheese crackeriness, making for a perfect slice-summating breadstick—especially if there’s topping and sauce fallout leftover for dipping.
But, really, the end of the day feel, the one your stomach logs with nostalgia to counter future sad salad lunches, is of an endless cheesiness, the thick milky gloss stretching and slopping around other slices, your tongue. Mixing with fennel-forward pinch-and-press sausage crumbles—the most appropriate Ditka-esque topping—these lustrous, smacky bites act like a marriage between our two worlds. Cheese and meat, teaming like there’s hope for an inner mouth symposium between two disparate cities.   
Pizano’s
Pizano's is also in the family, so to speak, Rudy Malnati Jr. having opened his family style pizza joint in the Loop some 20 years after Lou, in the early 90's.  
Rudy is Lou's half-brother, from their father’s second wife. Muddying the family tree further are offshoots like Gino’s East, whose owners hired away the original Uno cook, and Louisa’s, whose owner worked at Pizzeria Due, which was the second pizzeria opened by Uno owners Ike Sewell and Ric Riccardo, but the one that actually gave the name Uno to Uno itself. As with most 23 and Me results, drunkenly spouted at you at some Christmas-time family gathering by a relative who just took up genealogy, you'll come upon half-researched variations of all this, and then lose track. If you dig even a little bit you'll also find unsubstantiated claims that Pizano’s is Oprah's favorite pizza (it seems a clip of her referencing Chicago Magazine’s thin crust ranking has been misinterpreted and widely disseminated).  
More importantly, in this, location number six and the first outside the Chicagoland area, you have a place equally known for its deep dish and for an iconic tavern-style Chicago pizza. The same sort that has been handed out at bars around Chicago for nearly a century, the same that most pizza nerds will tell you is the true “Chicago style,” the kind that most native Chicagoans seem to prefer.  
There’s a bit of a wheaty, sourdough-y essence about the golden crust, which is sturdy, platform-y, just nearing hot-oven blackness. But it never interferes, acting mostly as an apt base for the chunky, sweet, bursting bright tomato sauce, and a liberal cheese coating that is cooked to a point approaching caramelization. Pepperoni, or the topping of your choice is spread unsparingly just below, almost around, this blanket, making for ideal bite ratios, and an overriding neat package, with an allowance for the cheese to shine and stretch, display it’s grease shimmers and finish winter-coat-y and thick.  
As such style was intended, this is also not strictly a takeout affair. In fact, quite the opposite, as Pizano’s boldly, defiantly, staked claim in the middle of downtown. At the corner of Water and Juneau, in the red-checkered tablecloth modernized old-school bar and pizza and pasta joint, a Giannis jersey stares down one of Pippen on the wall. McGlocklin sizes up D. Rose. Urlacher eyes Jordy. I drank a Milwaukee Brewing Co. Hop Happy under an Old Style neon sign while awaiting the south-of-the-border goods.  
The deep dish, whisked to your table some 30-minutes after order, in the eponymous dish itself, really relies on so many of the same pizza characteristics. In fact it’s really just like a souped-up, muscly brother. Again, not that thick, it can easily still be eaten with hands. Tomato is heaped atop cheese, inconsistently, artfully, abstractly. Fennel-flecked sausage wedges pop, whiffs of oregano abound, and a smoky earthiness from a well-seasoned, workhorse pan lingers. Cheese is double-layered, stretchy, soft but holding firm to its crust bed, lending an overwhelming profile, the heaviness just offset by acidic zest of chunky tomato brightness. Still, for the gut, it is a bit of a load: there’s an elaborate inch wall around, protecting, maintaining, like a futuristic police state rich person home security system. Truthfully, sans the Lou butter coating option, it’s actually a bit hard to know what to do when you get there. Even if you’re not the type, even if you’re not normally like this, it is easy to feel bad about the crusty carb glut you are about to grapple with. This is maybe why some, myself included, will always still lean thin. 
Then again, many see it differently. Donna Marie Malnati, mother of Rudy Jr., crust-creater of Pizano’s Pizzeria, who died this January at the age of 93, left explicit instructions for the celebration of her life: “I don’t want that damn thin-crust pizza,” Rudy said she told him. “The only thing I want served is our original deep dish sausage and cheese.” The ying-yang is all maybe ridiculously bullish, like the SNL parodying skit come to life. But caring is something to never be taken lightly. And it’s at least good to earn your opinions, to wear them on your sleeve. It's important to know who you are, where you stand. We, in Wisconsin, have football. Chicagoans have pizza. And, now, we have it too—whether you like it or not: another Lou’s is slated to open in Brookfield this summer, and, then, one in Greenfield, sometime after that.    
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xwubzxbubzx · 7 years ago
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Summer of Stancest - Mindscape
Well this thing got away from me. Warning for memory manipulation, dark Ford, unreliable narrator and blood magic. (approx 3k and sfw-ish)
Structural Integrity
 i. Cangiante
The Renaissance art style Cangiante is characterized by the painter's changing to a different, lighter, hue when the original hue cannot be made light enough or, on the converse, changing to a darker hue when the original hue cannot be made dark enough.
The fall is endless. The swooping sensation of a hypnic jerk stretched out into eternity. He lands gracelessly, knees shaking as he falls forward with a soft splash. His arms are stretched out before him, fingers digging into the soft sand; water slithers over the back of his hands. His eyes are clenched shut. He heaves: once, twice. Nausea pulses in his skull and sinuses before he takes a deep breath and reorients himself. He feels loose and untethered; a floating phantasm. The water is a boon, salty and cool, dribbling off his clothes and palms leaving him completely dry as he pushes himself up gingerly.
Stan's mindscape is slowly healing devastation — the remnants of a seaside town after a hurricane. A ghost grey ocean laps at his boots, tugging him forward into its depths. Even the salt in the air is heavy with something he cannot identify, thick and cloying like hopelessness. It reminds him of Glass Shard Beach.
He shouldn’t be here. This is an invasion of the most intimate and primal form. But Ford has always been a little selfish, he’s self-aware enough to admit that, and this — this is for both of them really, this is for the best. He's wanted Stan to himself since he was young, has wanted him helplessly devoted to him alone.
Joy bubbles in his chest, making him feel lighter. Finally after all these years—
He's had this spell in the corner of his mind for a very long time, it's a refinement of the possession curse he'd documented so long ago, when he wandered the forests of Gravity with naive temerity, when he was still a wet behind the ears boy purporting himself as a scientist. He's rather proud of what he's created, it is an elegant marriage of sorcery and science — and is it bad that he's proud? He had to worked for hours, amalgamating neuroscience with the occult until he'd finally found a way to alter a mindscape permanently. He feels almost like Bill, but no, that is not a line of thinking he wishes to follow and even so, Bill couldn't change you from the inside, couldn't reform you into the image he wanted. What Bill Cipher did Stanford Pines did better.
And it is different. He loves Stan, he always has and he has dreamed of this for decades. He's entitled to this.  Surely after 30 years of suffering on the other side of the portal he deserves this? It shouldn’t even be a question. It was Stan, after all, who had pushed him into a literal hellscape and Ford has forgiven him. He truly has, but only an idiot would ignore the pattern of behaviour Stan was exhibiting. His brother was always so stubborn and bullheaded, so destructive. He has always needed a guiding hand. He has always needed Ford.
The others wouldn't understand, they hadn't seen what Ford had. They hadn't lived the way Ford had. And though he loves the twins, they are burdened with a very planetary mindset. They fail to see the bigger picture, which is unfortunate; yet he cannot find it within himself begrudge them their youthful innocence. No matter, they would never know anyway.
He can see the vague shape of the Mystery Shack, twisted and broken. He walks to it, wet sand crunching underneath him, it shimmers slightly, a mirage that solidifies and gains detail as he moves towards it. There are gaping caverns in its side as though it was the gouged out corpse of some broken creature, corridors lead off into the dark abyss of the sea — nothingness, the roof and walls bend and sag under an unknown yet ever present weight.
What is more corporeal is the boat he can see off into the distance behind the shack. Shrouded in fog as it may be, the dimensions of the Stan-o-War are perfect. Their relationship made physical in the gnarls of old wood and red paint. Even the fluttering sail is patched up in the same exact places he remembers from his youth. This pleases Ford on a fundamental level, he enjoys being the singular point of his brother's existence, his true and unwavering north. The only thing worth remembering.
He thinks for a moment that perhaps the relative tangibility of the Stan-o-War may be due to their constant contact and interaction before dismissing the idea. It is more romantic this way.
Ford had considered using some bastardized form of the memory gun. The technology is all there, merely requiring fine tuning and tweaking, but he can't; he can still feel his fingers shaking as he presses the trigger, white light engulfing his kneeling brother's downturned head, the picture of a man facing a firing squad. He can't do that to Stan again and isn't that such a testament to his love?
And if he is grateful to the machine, it is only because amnesia makes his brother the perfect canvas. He could not do this when Stan's memories were firm and worn smooth and hard, but now they are malleable little things that mold beneath the pressure of his hands. Besides, technology was so clinical, so cold. Magic had a certain charm to it — an attitude, an aftertaste. It would allow him to embed his signature into the very depths of Stan's psyche, carve his name into the building blocks of his brother. He cares so deeply for Stan, and he's only ensuring the right kind of reciprocity.
He goes inside the Shack first. The door swings open with a pained creak and just like in a dream, its external construction play no role in its inner dimensions. The inside is not as dilapidated as he'd imagined. Dark and dusty perhaps, mired in years of futility and anger but there is a certain lustre in the wood, a gleam in the burnished metal of the door handles, the faint scent of tenacity and success and hope. His brother is such a resilient man.
He knows where he must go, down the corridor into a room that is littered with glass, broken snow globes everywhere — the gift shop. He bends and picks up a glass shard, placing it in his pocket. The shelves have all tilted to the side, angry slashes on the wall; the souvenirs form an indiscernible heap on the floor. Crossed out words, question marks are strewn across the room, remnants of 30 years of half-remembered oddities and curios. The vending machine is silent and empty, looming up in front of him. It is impossibly large, and reaching it takes an unimaginably long time as though each of his strides are an inch long.
He taps out the code, muscle memory causing his fingers to dart across the pad, and it slowly shifts to the side, a jarring screech echoing across the room as it moves. The stairs are old and rickety, but they have always been so. It is the elevator that different, it is smaller than he remembers but he does not care. The ride down fills him with an unfathomable excitement; he begins making his final preparations — he is so close.
When the door opens again, it is 1982 and Stan and Ford are fighting, his brother is gripping the burnt skin of his shoulder. He watches, just for a moment, and admires the smoothness of Stan’s skin under the sickly glow of the portal, the heart rending desperation of his sobs after he pushes Ford into oblivion.
Stanford presses his palms against the border of the memory, sigils carved and bleeding on his hand, and everything rewinds, changing ever so slightly as the original memory is rewritten and remade. Ford’s demand for Stan to sail away is more poignant — a rejection of the highest form. The way they grapple is now mired in a sultry, erotic tension; each move a subtle caress lost in anger. Even his fall through the portal is different, their eyes meet and what passes between them is a lover’s farewell. He does not need to alter the desolation Stan feels when he realises he is alone, that is deep enough.
A small rivulet of blood traces its way down his finger, collecting at the tip before wobbling faintly and dropping to the floor. His job here is done.
The next place he visits is Stan’s safe. The iron monstrosity trembles as the light from the hall way is cast on it. It is barely tangible, shivering and unlocking as he touches it, falling open in rapturous recognition. He does not expect to see the deed with his name lying inside, the ink in his name still fresh and spreading. He tries to move it to the side but his hand falls through. The bottom of the safe has disappeared and he has an eagle’s eye view of his return home.
Stan looks so hopeful, his arms spread out to welcome him. He wants to step inside and gather him in against his chest, hold him close but he can’t. His past self walks through and their meeting is as painful as he remembers.
This time as the drop of blood falls, the world below him reforms into something softer. When he holds Stan’s hands behind his back, the tremble Stan had repressed now shudders through him, electric with something that was not there before. His lips graze Stan's ears longer than they should, whispering I was scared for you. And when Stan falls forward, Ford’s knee heavy on his back, his brother doesn’t struggle against him but melts, putty in his hands. His eyelashes fan against his cheeks as he revels in the sensation of Ford against him in the space between heartbeats.
Ford feels like a voyeur, just watching this, but this was the reunion they both deserved. He closes the safe again, the numbers etched into the dial glow a livid scarlet before darkening back to black.
His hands in his pockets he turns his back to the Shack and leaves without a second thought, the Stan-o-War awaits.
The walk is colder than he imagined it would be, the wind is sharp and unyielding. His trench coats whips behind him. The Stan-o-War is large and it looks almost faded from up close, as though the sun and sea air have bleached it. He traces the wood with his fingertips, searching for an opening, leaving strokes of red in his wake.
He’s adding a special touch to all of Stan’s childhood memories by doing this and in some ways he thinks this is fitting; Stan was him for so long that perhaps it was time for Stan to truly be something in his image. It’s only a faint trace of a charm, a spice in the air; the kind that would have one close their eyes, just to focus on the aroma, to try and grasp the delicate strings of a long forgotten but exquisite memory. He breathes out, magic permeates the air in front of him before disappearing, absorbing into the ship. The wood is darker now, richer and toned with burgundy, his brother is redesigned before his eyes.
As he moves to the other side of the boat, he sees it. A small rocky outcropping. He scrabbles up it, careful to keep his bloody hand inside in his coat, close to his beating heart. From there it is child’s play to reach the deck.
He observes his surrounding quietly, nostalgia curling a loose grip around his heart. The sail catches a gust of wind and flutters, there is no darkness in its shadow: it is him and Stanley, shimmering like they are in a painting, unbearably young. He presses the fabric into his palm and the summer days he’s observing from 40 years in the future are hotter. Sweat drips down Ford’s back and Stan is watching him, his face unreadable but hunger in his eyes.
It is easy too, Stan was always the tactile one,  who sought physical comfort as a refuge from his fears. There are hundreds of moments that he can recall, Stan’s warm body pressed close to his. His larger frame trembling like a leaf as he cried about their father or, if he remembers correctly, when they were very young and still foolish enough to fear nature more than man, thunder. The memories are sweeter this way, syrupy with the heat between them.
He’s wanted Stan for so long it feels like he was born like this, that his desire was written into his DNA, into his genes. It stands to reason, then, as identical twins, Stan should feel this way too.
In each plank of wood, there is a story but he focuses on only the most important ones. The ones where he barely has to change a thing, so that the light falling on Ford is just this shade of warm and romantic, so that their hands brush against each other for a shade longer than brothers do, so that blushes bloom across Stan’s skin as often as bruises. So that the ache in Stan’s chest is not just overwhelming fondness and protectiveness but unrequited love. He edits a thousand days like this, dribbling blood all over them. He edits a thousand nights too, making them laden with fear, hope and bone-deep yearning.
Even though it does not seem like any time has passed, there is a rising expectation in the air; the sky is still covered by dark, brooding clouds but they look closer, burdened down by something. It will rain soon.
He is tired but he is almost done. There is only one more place he must visit — the swing set. He has only the barest inkling of where it could be, but Ford trusts himself, trusts in the knowledge he has of his brother.
He walks far into the land, until he can no longer see the crest of the sea against the horizon. Until the Mystery Shack is a dark smudge against the grey scale. But he knows where he must go.
When he finally sees the metal outline of the swing set glinting in the half-light, he runs. It is broken and rusted but that means nothing. His hand has stained the inner lining of his coat, the blood is thick and congealing. His fingers are stained red.
A drop falls. It is not red.
It has begun to rain. Ford knows he must hurry.
He places his bloodied hand on the metal, relishing its coolness. Each bump drags against the barely formed scabs on his palm, drawing fresh blood in its wake. In between the chains that hold the seat up Ford can see Stan sitting, his head bowed. He is translucent, water falling through him onto the seat, or perhaps those are tears.
It is the day Stan was kicked out, Ford is sure of it. He looks pitifully small, curled up in the swing like that, shoulders racked with heaving sobs as he cries. His arms can barely support his weight and he is slumped against the chains, needing them to stay upright. He is borne down by the events that have transpired. Ford moves closer, seeking to comfort him, and places his hand on Stan’s shoulder; the boy looks up at him, face swollen with unshed tears. Reflected in his eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotions: the panic Stan must have felt when he realised Ford's project was broken, the plea for Ford to forgive him, the betrayal as Ford turned away from him and closed the curtains.
The blood seeps into his clothes, it mixes with rainwater and clings to his skin; it is now so much worse. The self-hatred that Stan has always felt is rawer, a barely healed wound. Stan believes he has been cast out by the only person he could ever love fully. And Ford feels guilt, a hollowness in his chest; it hurts to put Stan through this, but he feels relief as well, as though he can finally breathe after 60 long years. Stan has now suffered with him, the same way he has since they were children.
He is done here, done with mess of Stan’s mindscape. His brother is made anew.
He’s never thought to imagine that perhaps Stan has loved him all along, and while not exactly in the way that Ford wants; Stan would try for him, he would follow him to the end of the earths if he was asked. That he was broken enough to accept whatever Ford requires and enjoy giving it to him —  for any scrap of affection — because he has been tearing apart at the seams without his brother and he needs Ford too much. Far more than Ford needs him.
   Ford comes back to himself with a choked gasp. He is dizzy and his heartbeat hammers in his ears, hummingbird fast; his body protests upon his return, preferring the lax comfort of being soul-void. He feels heavy and wooden, his head is slumped back and his neck aches. He is damp. He clenches his fingers and they twinge painfully before he pushes himself to sit upright, his coat shifting around him.  
There was Stan, just as he’d left him; lying soft and supine in the darkness, safely nestled under the thick duvet. His face is slack and his brow is unlined. Little huffing breaths escape from his mouth, condensing in the cold winter air.
Ford shifts, a draught passes through the house, ruffling Stan’s grey hair, which is spun silver in the winter moonlight. A shiver of anticipation sparks through him, but he quells himself. He must be patient.  He rises from the couch next to his brother’s bed with some effort, the chill leeches the elasticity from his tendons. An audible crack rings through the air as his knees straighten. Stan stirs slightly.
Ford watches him, breath caught in his throat.
Stan opens his eyes. “Sixer?” His voice is heavy with confusion and sleep and something deeper.
A pale shaft of moonlight trickles across his face, highlighting his features in haut-relief; he seems dreamy and warm, a light blush staining his cheeks. He turns to looks at Ford, his pupils dilating, ink spreading in water.
Ford smiles.
  it’s also on my ao3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11618865/chapters/26123268
part 2
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coffeewithmom · 6 years ago
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The Price of Peace: How Losing You Meant Finding Me
Then say Rome wasn't built in a day, well embracing who you are and awakening to who you are meant to become doesn't happen that quickly either. For me the journey to self happened in more of a hopscotch kind of motion with me sometimes holding firmly on 2 feet, and  other times wildly wobbling on one on the brink of collapse.
 In order to understand why, you have to start at the beginning. The first time I ever heard someone say they needed peace I was very young. Like most my inital encounter with it came at the hands of my mother. My mother was and is a single mom of 2. That meant even with my very large hands on family things were not always easy. We had some amazing times with road trips, and sleepovers with my cousins that meant a big bowl of noodles with 3 forks and Babes in Toyland playing on VHS. But,  having a young single mother also meant there were struggles. My mom and I grew up together in a sense so there was no lying or sugar coating about our situation. As time went on I saw my mom work hard, earn barely enough and hope for a better way. It was in reference to this struggle I first heard the word peace. The way it was described I thought peace meant having money and being able paying bills on time. Growing up I would tell myself, " I'm going to have peace when I grow up, " which led to making my own money at 11, and  paying for my own things so my mom wouldn't have to and in my mind I was helping us both have some peace.
   Fast forward to my teenage years filled with the typical teenage drama with a sprinkle of the complexities of same sex relationships, being "out and proud", while working and taking college classes and peace took on a completely new meaning. It was no longer about just money for bills now peace also met finding a way to "live my truth" while also maintaining my grades, keeping an active social life , shouldering the expectations of my family,  defending my sexuality, and so many other things all while still keeping a smile.  I was told by all of my friends that I had the best life because my mom wasn't strict and I had freedom but I was unhappy. In fact I was suicidal. Preceding an attempt at ending it  I felt peace meant no longer being in this world where you have to fight hard for everything, on top of being crushed by peer pressure and obligations, while being judged by people who claim to love you. Peace meant saying good bye to everyone I love and finding my ultimate freedom in death. But, even that didn't go as planned as my attempt was thwarted by what I now years later see as an angel.  Since that night I've always prayed that he would somehow know how grateful I am for his intervention.  In the time that followed  I lost friends, family, even a partner as I promised myself I would do right  this time and never again see my gift of life as a burden.  It would all be for the best or so I thought...
Without understanding what this change would mean I failed to realize that this new idea of peace would mean losing the man who raised me and adding him to my block list in every way because he hurt me so badly by telling me how disappointed he was that I was embracing my sexuality unknowingly destroying my image of fatherly love. All at a time when love was all I wanted yet love seemed to not want me back. I lost my father figure, I lost my actual father (whom I hadn't seen in years),  lost a close connection with my family, and inevitably I lost myself in a cycle of emotional, physical, and substance abuse that would span the next few years of my life. 
The promise I made to embrace my life had come to a halt as I drowned my pain in alcohol, drugs, and  bad relationships and I came dangerously close to losing my life yet again.  
It seemed at that point peace yet again peace needed to be redefined. Yet, in my very real depression and anxiety peace literally meant nothing to me.  It was an unattainable fairy tale that I had no interest in reading to the end.
Following an unhealthy divorce I found myself standing at a crossroads. Not only did I need to address the scars my marriage, abuse, and miscarriage left behind, I needed to figure out who I was now. Was I a scorned woman? Maybe a bitter ex?  A naive new dater? The uncertainty of it all was both exciting and scary as hell!  I couldn't be sure what was next but I knew for a fact that gaining a true sense of self, and understanding this new chapter in my life was a must and the beginning of that wasn't finding peace or clearly defining it. No, this journey needed to become about more than just the word it had to become a choice. I had to CHOOSE peace at every turn no matter what it meant giving up. So I began unpacking the guilt I had in giving up on people and situations , packed up my happiness and exited stage left.
 It was during this time that peace became less about superficial things and more about my energy, my interactions, my health,  my space, my words, my thoughts and the power they held, and more importantly what I wanted the legacy of my life to amount to.  
I needed to ask myself by what standard was I measuring myself against and whether that standard was high enough to match my dreams I had for my life...
WHAT IS PEACE NOW? 
 If I had to describe peace to you today I would say it wss the feeling I get when I close my eyes and breathe deep, feeling the air fill my lungs and my chest expanding,  allowing a smile to cross my face, embracing that moment right before I breathe out. THAT! Is what peace is, that single second of pure solace. It is stillness and movement, silence and selective noise, it is feeling the smile both inside and out.
 These days when something tries to get me down, when my illness causes my body to flare, I remember what I felt like before knowing real peace. That time when family members hurt my heart, when lovers turned against me, when money was short, when my diagnosis was cruel, when my self worth was shot, when my friends became acquaintances, when my self esteem reflected others image of me instead of the one God-ordained for me, when the happiness and comfort of others trumped my own, that time when giving up was an option, I remember that and say to myself NOT TODAY! *Shameless #GOT plug* lol.
 The level of peace I have obtained today is worth every failed relationship, and every good bye spoken. When you feel real peace you aren't willing to sacrifice it for anything. So if you were ever blessed enough to feel my love, be my friend, or even just get to know me and our relationship is no longer there know three very important things are true; First I wish you no ill will,  nor do I hate you.  In fact I wish you every blessing because I found peace in our parting and I'm thankful for our season. Second,  I gave as best I could to you. I made every effort to be fair, honest, kind, and forgiving so I found peace and comfort in the good times while acknowledging that it was you and not me that failed us. While that may seem harsh peace demands that you hold yourself accountable as well as others. Third, and this is the last but certainly not the least, I love you still. Surprising I know but it's true. I love you and love who you were for me be it friend, lover, family, or LESSON. I love you with my whole heart but I LOVE ME MORE! That is the greatest gift peace gave me. Self love and the ability to see the necessity of pain, loss, growth and change is the true prize to be sought. I paid the price by losing you but that payment came with the reward of truly knowing me and that in itself is truly priceless....
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