#god better fucking be with me tomorrow because i might just let the bipolar thoughts win@

[dog-girl-zezora]

GRRR GRRR GRRRRRRR

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #388

“i wanna stay inside all day  /  i want the world to go away  /  i want blood, guts, and chocolate cake  /  i wanna be a real fake”

Name three people who you'll never forget: I doubt I'd forget Jason even if, God forbid, I had dementia. That's trauma for ya. I HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHLY doubt I could EVER forget my mom, either. In many different ways, she's literally kept me alive and has done so, so much for me. Then there's also Sara, whose friendship with me matches no one else I've been friends with. Have you ever been told you are fake? No. What was the name of the last pet of yours that died? Teddy, my dog. Do you like pineapple? I do. When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with? I know this sounds seriously depressing, but that's... pretty much every day. My life is just currently such a drag that being awake bores me senseless. But it's funny, because then some nights I stay up late for like... no reason. My existence alone is confusing. Is there any specific number that has any significance to you? No. Do you remember much from high school? I remember a lot from high school. Where would you go for the ultimate honeymoon? Isn't there a black sand beach in Iceland or something? Take me there, man. I'd also love to go to the Bahamas, but ew humidity and also I'm afraid of the Bermuda Triangle lmfao. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you get? The big piece I want to get on my left upper arm; it's called "Denialism" by NukeRooster on deviantART. I got her permission forever ago to get it tattooed. Do you have any alarms set? What time and what for? Not currently. Have you ever had to work while there was a film crew at your work place? No. Have you ever supported anyone’s Kickstarter? If so, what was it? No. What do you like in your omelet? Ham pieces and cheese. Have you ever boycotted something? Yes: Chick-fil-A. Homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit aren't getting my business. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you, and not returned it? Yes. Most notably a video game I LOOOOVED as a kid. I was mad salty and still am lmao. Do you vent a lot on social media? God no, not anymore after embarrassing the everliving FUCK out of myself with a suicide note. What was your first bill you started paying on your own? I don't pay any bills bc unemployed. .-. Do you watch ASMR videos? No. What is your favorite charitable cause to donate to or volunteer for? The Trevor Project. Have you ever received a misdiagnosis? Yes. A psychiatrist I had in middle school thought I had ADHD, which was ABSOLUTELY ludicrous. Most recently, my long-time bipolar 2 diagnosis has been questioned, but I do think I have it. I think. Does it bother you when others don’t share the same religious beliefs as you? No? Freedom of religion is a thing. What was your last argument about? Ummmm... I don't remember. Probably something with Mom. Have you found your first gray hairs yet? No. Somehow. You'd think all the stress would have me pure gray by now, lol. What are the names of all the pets you’ve had? Dude, I've had WAY too many for this. What’s the most you’ve ever spent on a cosmetic or skincare product? *shrug* Who was the last person that invited you to go somewhere? Did you accept? Mom invited me to come with her to Nicole's to get out of the house because at the time our A/C was still out. I didn't want to go, even though damn did I suffer, haha. What was the last food item that you toasted, other than bread? That's... a great question. I don't know if I toast anything other than bread. Have you ever named any of your pets after a cartoon character? I remember I had a cat named Taz when I was younger. What was the last thing that someone else recommended, or suggested you try? My TMS doctor is like SUPER friendly and makes the treatment go by so fast (it's exactly 22 minutes and 30 seconds; don't ask why), and recently she was fangirling to Mom and me about the show Once Upon a Time, haha. I saw very little of it with Jason, but Mom did check it out. When was the last time you wore a hat? What kind? I have zero idea. When was the last time you ate a bowl of ice-cream? What flavour? Oh wow, it's been a long time. It was probably vanilla with chocolate syrup? If you menstruate, has your cycle ever synced with anyone close to you? Yes. Tell me something positive about the town or city that you live in. ... You said "positive," right? Did your parents have high expectations for you to excel in school and go to college/university? Yes. They were pretty serious about going to college when my sisters and I were younger, but they opened up to the concept that maybe it wasn't for all of us (coughmecough). Are you a polite person? I genuinely think I am. I definitely try to be. Have you ever been in a relationship where everything with your partner felt natural and effortless? Sigh. Yeah. Have you ever been in a relationship where everything was difficult and rocky? No. That's not the kind I'd stay in very long at all. I mean yes, there are always bumps, but there comes a point where you gotta say fuck nah and find something better. When you were a teenager, did your parents set rules about dating? Other than keeping age gaps in mind, no. Have you ever committed a crime that directly harmed another person? No. Did you grow up in an urban, suburban, or rural area? My childhood home was suburban, but leaned towards rural. We were on the very edge of the town. Which disease do you personally think is the most horrible? After seeing my mother suffer from borderline stage 4 ovarian cancer, I've gotta say cancer. My mother is the strongest person I know and yet she cried so frequently from chemotherapy. It broke my fucking heart. The person I copied the survey from mentioned especially childhood cancers, and I have to agree. Like just... why. "Everything happens for a reason." Bull. Fucking. Shit. Just TRY and convince me why a young child has to deal with CANCER. Do you remember where you first drove to after getting your license? I still don't have my license, as I've said in many a survey before. What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid? Being on the computer too much. What is your biological sex? Female. Do you use online dating? Or do you use another method for finding dates? Nah. I'm at the point in my life where I wanna let love just find me and not actively search for it. What is the oldest gaming console you own? We MIGHT still have our old Atari? If not, it'd be a GameBoy Advance. Which accents can you emulate pretty well? Just British. Do you think you'll ever manage to do everything you want to? No. But then again, I think that sounds pretty realistic? I doubt most people check off everything on their bucket list. What do you fear most? Probably becoming truly homeless, living on the streets. Do you wear shoes around the house? No. Are you a good driver? If you can't drive yet, do you think you'll be good? I mean, I'm not the worst in the world. My mom's always pointed out though that I ride on the brakes (which I do out of fear) and I tend to speed up and slow down quite a bit. I also stop kinda abruptly sometimes. What is/was your favorite thing about school? Seeing friends. What are you most likely to spend money on? My own personal money, tattoos, lol. Have you ever been a complete fangirl/fanboy over anything? @_@ Do you hate how, when the public like a celebrity, they overpublicize them? I feel bad for them, more than anything. You breathe wrong and suddenly it's news-worthy. It's like your every inconsequential action is under heavy surveillance and judgment, and it seems so unfair. Have you ever became attracted to someone you weren’t at first because their personality made you find them physically attractive? That was Jason for me. I never thought he was ugly, but regardless, he became THE most attractive man in the world to me. Have you ever worked in retail? Yes. -_- Are you even a little bit racist? Nah man, it's 2021, baby. Were you more fond of swings, monkey bars, or seesaws as a child? I was all about the swings. Do you believe in a near-future apocalyptic event? I don't know or care, honestly. A gamma ray or whatever they're called could incinerate us all tomorrow. A black hole could swallow the earth in an hour. We don't know. Do you have a chandelier in your home? No. Do you have a bar with stools? No. Is your Christmas tree faux or real? If faux, what color? We use a fake green one. Do you eat the crusts of your bread? Yes; it's the first part I eat. Which body type would you say you had? Did you know whales can survive on land? :^) Have you ever flown a kite? Yeah! I used to LOVE doing that with Dad as a kid when the field across our house wasn't in use (tobacco was grown there). What’s your preferred flavour of jam? I just like grape. What kind of animal did you last pet? My cat! Name a celebrity that you admire that nobody would expect you to: I massively admire Jeffree Star's work ethic. Do you prefer to shave or wax? Shave. I used to wax my eyebrows, but now I just don't care. Would you ever have sex in a public place? Uh, no. Do you think Jenna Marbles’ videos are funny? I've actually never watched her. Your favourite pasta dish: Just your normal spaghetti with meatballs. Strangest thing you’ve ever seen? Probably what I'm assuming was a star (but it was green???) flickering and then fizzling out of the sky kind of like some sort of backwards firework. I'd been watching it literally grow over a few nights, so when this happened, it was a big "?????? the fuck??????". It honestly scared me for some reason so I went inside after that. Aliens? I say aliens. Ever had a crush on somebody of the same sex? Yes. Has anybody ever called you a bastard? I don't think so. Who is the last person you ignored? uhhhhhhh Would you wear feathers in your hair? So actually, for my first prom, I wanted to wear a blue jay feather I had in my hair, reason being Jason's nickname from his parents was always "J Bird." It ended up not working out because we couldn't make it look natural with what we had. When was the last time you were well and truly scared? Hm. Favourite member of your favourite band: Ozzy, obviously, haha. Who’s your favourite female rapper? I don't have one.

[greekowl87]

Fic: False Flags - Ghost Ship 7/?

This fic still lives, albeit, just at a slower pace. For those that need to catch up…The First Fic: (False Flags Redux) | Ghost Ship: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) or if AO3 is your thing, you’ve got your choices. Sorry for any grammar or issues of that nature. No beta, I suck at editing my own work on computers (especially when it’s longer) and Grammarly only does so much. I still hope you enjoy it. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.

Tagging: @today-in-fic, @improlificinsarcasm,  @baronessblixen, and @suitablyaggrieved 

A/N: I haven’t given up on this fic but life keeps me busy and inspiration has been little. Thanks for any support with this fic. Sorry; no beta and trying to self edit longer works it not the easiest for me.

Buckley sat by the window of the hotel room carelessly spinning an unloaded Colt 1911 on the small table the motel staff had placed in the double room. Across the room, Alex Krychek groaned in annoyance and turned up the volume on the television with his one good arm. Buckley snorted and continued to spin the pistol. “Will you stop that!” Krychek shouted angrily. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“Am I?” He laughed. “Good, Alexi.”

“Alex. Stop calling me that! I don’t know what the old man sees in you. Enlisting your help a second time? You screwed up and got caught last time. What makes you think you can do better?”

“And I got shot by Mulder too but the tip came from an anonymous informant. Not my screw-ups, you dick. Besides, shouldn’t you be doing something useful? Like getting us dinner or something?”

Krycek shuddered. “And I lost a goddamn arm thanks to Mulder and I’m not complaining. God, don’t you ever shut up? I’m not your servant so stop bothering me. I’m not supposed to let you out of myself or else god forbid you to go rogue.”

“Why worry?”

“I’ve seen your work,” Krycek huffed. He thought about the file folder and the gruesome pictures he had seen. It reminded him of Jack the Ripper, especially when Mulder and Scully had caught him during his last crime spree. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I used to be a gangster from the 1920s.” He replied. His voice took on a Chicago accent briefly. ‘That’s where I learned all that.”

“You really are insane. Bipolar. Order a pizza or something if you’re so damn hungry. The phone book is right there.”

Buckley chuckled and continued to stare on the window, spinning the pistol.

****************

Mulder and Scully slept through the night but that didn’t do anything to calm each other’s nerves. The ocean pounding the sandbars only matched Scully’s racing heart. Mulder sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Scully, you’re pacing,” he quipped from the couch.

“I feel like a prisoner here,” she answered. She looked around at the ocean-inspired theme and shook her head. “It feels irreverent like Arcadia did.”  She crossed her arms and looked at Mulder. “Don’t you feel the same? We can’t leave.”

“I don’t remember anyone saying that. Skinner didn’t say that. We’re free to come and go as we please. It isn’t like Skinner has placed us in protective custody and he’s standing in the corner watching our every move. We have our weapons. We’re trained federal agents. We’re okay.”

She shook her head in frustration. “I have the worst feeling growing in the back of my mind. He’s closer than they think he is.” She scratched the back of her neck and Mulder got from the couch to catch her hand. “What?”

“It’s not the chip,” he answered quickly. “This isn’t like Ruskin Dam. This isn’t the Syndicate coming after us. This is just old fashioned…” He sighed, unable to find the word. His fingers caressed the back of her neck gently. “It’s just our past coming back to haunt us. Quite literally. In the physical form of a sociopath.”

“You should have killed the bastard when you had the chance,” she replied. Scully relaxed into his touch and closed her eyes. “Might have saved us this headache.”

“You are the better shot between the two of us. Sorry. Couldn’t kill Model, couldn’t kill Buckley even at close range. But you, my kick-ass G-woman can shot a Sig Sauer P-226 with the precision of a surgeon and still take out and heal with the same ability. Maybe I should just give you my own weapon.”

Scully smiled ruefully and leaned into the shoulder she had shot years before. Mulder laughed and held her close. She took a deep breath and looked up to him and said, “I imagined our time down here filled with doing the tourist traps, relaxing with you on the beach, and just having fun.”

“We still can. The Bodie Lighthouse isn’t that far. Neither is Roanoke Island. Let’s go there. Check out the history. Maybe we can solve the case of the missing colony.”

“They’re national parks.”

��And we’re federal agents. We’ll be fine.” He gave her a weak smile. “Let’s do the lighthouse today. We can spend tomorrow on Manteo and have some dinner or something.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s better than seeing you pace back and forth. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “Anything is better than just being stressed.”

“I know you hate flying but are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Have you ever been up in a lighthouse?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Really? Coming from the woman who loves the seas.” Mulder grinned. “You’re going to love it.”

*********************

The FBI partners gathered their weapons and badges to hide them discreetly among their clothes. They grabbed Scully’s purse, locked their beach house, and went down to Mulder’s car. He hated seeing Scully like this and knew that this trip would be just the thing. They made the drive down NC-12 to Cape Hatteras National Park chatting silently with one another. When they arrived at the fork for Cape Hatteras National Park, he took the right back down the highway. After a short distance, he turned left down a small paved road where Bodie Island Lighthouse was. Mulder pulled their car in the small gravel parking lot and smiled at Scully. “Well?”

She leaned forward to look out of the windshield. The black and white striped lighthouse stood off in the distance with the white lightkeeper’s house nearby. “It’s quaint,” she smiled. “Very tucked away. I’d imagine you might be used to up in New England.”

“I’ve seen a few.

“It has a history as well.”

“I bet it does.”

They climbed out of the car and Mulder was surprised when Scully openly took his hand and led him towards the Lightkeeper’s House, which served as the gift shop and the National Park Service’s Office. As if she had been there before, she knew right where everything was. Mulder became interested in some of the lighthouse knick-knacks as she purchased two tickets to climb the lighthouse. “Got those tickets to the stairway to heaven, Scully?”

“Hahaha,” she smiled. Much to this delight, she took his arm as they ventured back outside to a bench near the lighthouse to wait for the next tour. She guided him to sit with her on the bench overlooking the lighthouse. “I should really purchase a camera for this trip.”

“We can always buy a postcard.”

“I’m talking about us.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Why do you have to be difficult?”

“Because I love it when you say, ‘You’re crazy, Mulder.’  Besides, who needs a camera when you have a photographic memory?” He tapped his temple. “All our recent memory making…”

She laughed and it lifted Mulder’s spirit. Despite having a reincarnated ex-husband murderer who happened to be a serial killer in this life hunting down them while they were on their first vacation as a couple, he was so happy to hear her laughter. She smiled and rested her head against the bicep. She closed her eyes sleepily. “What do you say to us taking a nap in the hammock we have on the deck when we get home?”

“Despite the threat of…”

“Ssshhh. But yes.”

“As long as we pick up dinner along the way. Are you in the mood for seafood?”

“What about some Carolina BBQ?”

“I like you in a vacation mood. Why can’t you be more open to greasy foods when we’re in the field?”

“Vacation. There’s a difference,” she laughed.

Mulder watched a park ranger walk past them, calling, “All those for tickets for the 12:00 lighthouse tour line up behind me.”

“That’s us,” Scully whispered.

“Do you have to be first at everything?”

“I have to remind you who is the boss in this relationship. Tell me, Walking History Textbook, what is special about this lighthouse?”

“I remember,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “trying to blow it up with the retreating troops but I got orders to report to Norfolk instead.”

She chuckled. “Fucking past lives but then again, I have those to thank for my better sex life.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Shut up.” Her eyes opened and she tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“This salt air is doing wonders for your spirit,” he remarked.

“Maybe it’s the company more.”

Mulder smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly. She walked together to the front of the lighthouse where others were lining up in front of a park ranger. The woman park ranger smiled and waved people closer. “Gather around everyone! First, a few rules before we go up. The stairs in this lighthouse aren’t like the ones at Cape Hatteras. Only one person at a time can be on them, going up or going down in either direction. You can have multiple people on the landings,” the park ranger explained. “Now that we have that out of the way, can anyone tell me about the lighthouse?”

The tour group was met with silence as the park ranger started to talk about a mini-history lesson about Congress approving the lighthouse and it’s history from the Civil War to the present. As the park ranger concluded her mini-speech, she stepped back and motioned for everyone to begin their journey upwards. Mulder and Scully were in the middle of the group and took a moment to take in the moment around them: other tourists, the lovely March weather, and Scully in sunglasses smiling and laughing with her arm wrapped through his. It was so nice to see you here relaxed and happy.

“Are you happy?” Mulder whispered to her.

“Yes,” she answered.

That was all he needed at that moment. He really should have bought a disposable camera to capture this moment. As they climbed the lighthouse in a single file line, he was entranced by the magic of the moment. They paused periodically on each landing, overlooking various aspects of the horizon. The salt marshes and sounds of the Ocean on the other end. The Atlantic on the other side. Scully laughing. Eventually, they reached the top, the wind whipped Scully’s hair.

She gripped the railings of Bodie Lighthouse and leaned over to look at the people below. Mulder’s hand rested lightly on her back and he whispered, “What a view huh?”

“Hey, mister!”

A young kid’s voice caught both of them off guard and as they turned they saw a young boy with a brand new Polaroid camera. He smiled, speaking loudly over the wind. “I’ll take two pictures of you for five bucks.”

“Try three,” Mulder haggled, getting into the spirit.

“Two dollars includes on the spot printing. Memories last forever.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Mom lets me watch a lot of tv.” The young kid considered his possible client. “What do you say? Five dollars for three pictures?”

“I have to consult with my boss. What do you say, Scully? Three for five?”

She nodded and smiled. The kid smiled and raised his camera. He took a series of three shots. One of them both overlooking the railing out to the Atlantic sea, the second of them together smiling for the camera, and an unscripted kiss that briefly turned passionate, all of which was captured on the kid’s camera. Scully broke away, her cheeks flushed as she smiled. Mulder dug through his jean’s pockets until he produced a crumpled five-dollar bill. He exchanged it as Scully still took the still-developing photos.

Scully waved the photos in the sea air in a vain attempt to get them to develop quicker. She briefly flashed back to when she found that picture of them in the library archives in Newport News months ago from 1863. But there was something else that bloomed up inside of her; pride, love, tenderness, and devotion. Finally, something to memorialize and immortalize this moment now. She eyed the top image of them kissing with affection. Mulder was saying something before he returned to her.

“How did they turn out?”

“The kid has an eye for photography?” She answered.

They both gripped the photos to keep them from flying away in the sea breeze. “The Gunmen can make copies of these,” he whispered into her ear. “We can put one down into the basement and make Skinner jealous.”

“Or we can keep the copies for ourselves,” she answered. She rested her head against his chest; the breeze was in one ear with echoes of eternity from the Atlantic and his heartbeat was steady with promises of the future. “We need to buy a camera.”

“I can agree with that.” They watched the pictures develop on top of the lighthouse as they stood close to each other and as another momentarily in the winds of their entwined existence became immortalized once again on film. Scully felt relaxed and, for once, at peace. “Let me put those pictures in my purse,” she whispered softly.

Mulder gladly obliged and she carefully tucked away their pictures. They stood together, admiring the 360 panorama view that Bodie Lighthouse gave. After a while, they descended the staircase back down to the ground. Scully took his hand in public, unafraid who was watching and dragged Mulder to the gift shop. As he enjoyed the moment of this rare display of public affection, Mulder had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that disappeared when Scully’s lips met his.

********************

Buckley sat in the farthest car from the lighthouse, looking through his binoculars. Krycek sat next to him and asked, “Is it them?”

“Yep,” the other man replied. “Just like I told you.”

********************

Mulder looked at the Polaroids that had been taken at the lighthouse that day. He could only imagine the film on the disposable camera and how wonderful the shots were going to be. He and Scully were laughing, posing together as a couple framed by the lighthouse and the Atlantic Ocean. The little kids who had charged them five dollars for the pictures were ruthless but he finally had some proof of their happiness in this life. He contemplated calling upon the Gunmen to use their technological magic to digitize the photos but that would be for another day. He had been relatively low profile with his relationship with Scully over the past three months and he did not want to push it unless she was okay with it.

“Hey, Scully,” he called, “when do you think we should tell your mom?”

“About what, Mulder?”

“Us,” he replied.

From the kitchen island, Scully was curled up on the couch with a blanket watching ‘Dharma and Greg’ and not really paying attention to him. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and twisted to look at him. “What aspect of us?”

“Well,” Mulder began, setting the photos down, “the change in our relationship for starters.”

“Or the IVF?”

“I wasn’t going to go there.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. He set the pictures aside and joined her on the couch. “I’ve just been thinking lately.”

“Well, I feel like there’s been a lot of that going around,” she said. Mulder unfurled her legs and rested her feet in his lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m not really thinking.”

“Or maybe you’re just too busy thinking. Are you thinking about the IVF?”

“I would want to try again if you are willing too.”

“I still want to think about it,” she replied.

He lightly massaged her feet and she hummed in approval. “I can’t believe how sore my feet are from climbing all those stairs.”

“It’s not like you aren’t used to all work. You’re the FBI equivalent of Wonder Women running in high heels.”

“I appreciate the compliant, Mulder, but if you remember, I decided to wear flip-flops that have no support.”

“Well, where else could you get weather nice enough to wear flip flops in March?”

She giggled as he got a particular ticklish area. “Only in Nags Head.”  She nodded to the show that was on. “So, I caught this the first time when I was in San Diego. Have you ever heard of it?”

“What is it?”

“The show’s called ‘Dharma and Greg.’”

“I believe I have,” he said. “Some flower child marries a lawyer and chaos ensues when they decide to marry on the first date. So which one am I? Dharma or Greg?”

“Dharma,” she answered. “But opposites attract and make us better for it. Wouldn’t you agree, Mulder?”

He chuckled. “I might be inclined to. Do you want to keep it on this or find some nature documentary?”

“I like that and this version of Domestic Scully.”

“Did you lock the doors downstairs?”

“Yes,” he answered, “and I triple checked all the locks and windows. The only window that will be open is the one to our bedroom on the third floor.”

“And our weapons?”

“In the bedroom on the nightstands.”

She relaxed and nodded in approval. She withdrew her feet and switched her sitting position. She lounged against Mulder, wrapping his arms securely around her, and they enjoyed the rest of the comedy sitcom. He smiled into her arm and pressed a kiss, solidifying this moment in his memory. Even though there was a psycho that might be trying to kill them, he was the happiest he had been in a long time.

***********************

Mulder and. Scully had retired after television for a few more hours of watching prime time sitcoms. Scully disappeared into their bedroom and he did a quick lap around the beach house to check all their locks. By the time he got back up to their third-floor bedroom, he could hear the water running in the master bathroom.

“Mulder,” Scully called through the partially closed door. “Did you get everything you needed done?”

He could hear the partially slurred speech. “Is that wine I smell?” He dare not open the door. While this vacation had stress from fear of a psycho, it was bringing out sides of Scully he had only dreamed of and seen in one other lifetime. “Scully?”

“Hmm.” She giggled. “Maybe. Come join me, Mulder.”

“Where did you get the wine?”

He was already taking off his shirt and Scully’s laughter was causing his blood to boil in anticipation. “I snuck it in our last shopping trip,” she replied. She was giggling again. “Mulder, come on. There are still bubbles.”

Bubbles. “Aw, Scully.”

He pushed the door open slightly and saw her hair clipped back and a coffee mug in her hand. Most of her were covered by the bubbles from the jacuzzi so all that he saw was the one bare leg perched near the faucet. “Scully…” he crooned.

“What? Go grab yourself a coffee mug and bring the bottle with you!” She was smiling. Even though they decided to take their relationship to a new level, this still seemed so uncharacteristic of her. “Come on, Mulder. We’re on vacation.”

“I know we are,” he answered. He chose his next words carefully. “Weren’t you the one earlier who was concerned about our safety?”

“I’m not letting them get to me. Us. I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

“About telling your mom?”

“No. I want to try again when we get back to D.C.”

Mulder smiled and his concerns momentarily forgotten. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to the fridge, grabbed the open bottle, and a coffee mug from the fridge. She was smiling coyly at him. He topped off her coffee mug and shucked his jeans. In one fluid movement, he slid behind her and coiled his arms around her. “It’s a good thing you’re so small,” he teased. He kissed his favorite spot behind her ear. “Or else this w Scully lounged back into him. “I’ve been dreaming,” she whispered to him softly. She sipped the wine-filled coffee mug. “Don’t worry, it’s not any new past lives or anything.”

“I’m glad?”

She heard the question in his voice. “I am just thinking about this life and the last. Us. What could have been.”

Scully was always amazed how well they just worked together, either spiritually, or as she had discovered lately, physically as well. She sipped her wine. “Now or then,” he asked.

“Then. I still have a hard time believing it was real, Mulder.”

Together, they entwined their hands and caressed her flattened abdomen. He nuzzled her neck and closed his eyes. They both could remember those memories for the early 1860s, the joy of their unborn child, laying together, and dreaming about the future. “It was,” he replied. “And I don’t know how this whole past life thing works but we’ve been given a second chance.”

“By remembering?”

She turned her head in question and Mulder found her lips. “We’ll have that again.”

“Your faith is grounding.”

“Did you enjoy the lighthouse today?” He asked, changing the subject. “I was thinking why not tour all of them? We can drive back down to Cape Hatteras and climb the lighthouse there. Or drive an hour or so up to Corolla and climb the Currituck Lighthouse. And there are the ferries...Ocracoke, Knotts Island…”

“One day at a time, Mulder,” she laughed. “Today was Bodie Lighthouse. Tomorrow is Manteo. Tonight is this.”

“So,” he paused, setting aside both of the wine mugs. “Do you want to try to experiment and push the bounds of this fancy bathtub?”

“I bet you’re more effective than those water jets,” she challenged.

Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply. “I’ll get you to relax on this vacation.”

Scully just deepened the kiss and pulled him closer.

************************

Further up the barrier islands in Duck, North Carolina, Franklin Buckley, and Alex Krycek were at a small pizzeria nestled in a small outcrop of shops. Over shared slices and bad beer, they talked. “I still don’t get it,” Krycek started. “Why is this so fucking important to you? Mulder is no one.”

“Your boss is interested in them,” Buckley shrugged. “As a result, I am too.”

“I read your file you know.”

“Hell, I was in the papers.”

“And this somehow makes you the best choice?” Krycek sneered. “I still don’t understand that smoking bastard’s logic. I know you were in the papers. There is a fucking manhunt on for you.”

“And yet they can’t touch me.” Buckley waved the soggy pizza in the air. “We’re having pizza.”

“Why did the old man pick you?”

“Alexi…”

“Alex.”

“Alex.” Buckley grinned. “Have you ever wanted revenge so badly that you would do anything? Take back what is rightfully yours?”

Krychek grew quiet. “I have.”

“Then this is no different. It’s all a matter of waiting. I made the smoker an offer he couldn’t refuse. Are you going to finish that pizza?”

“No.” Krycek was distracted. He pushed the plate towards Buckley with his right arm. “Go ahead.”

“Must suck having one arm but I’ll tell you, this pizza is better than anything they served in the joint.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, it is all the matter of waiting and seeing.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wait and see.”

****************

Back in Nags Head, Scully stood on the deck with her arms around her. She watched the waves hit the shore as high tide came ashore. Mulder had run out earlier to pick up some dinner for them but, while he was gone, Skinner had called her cell phone with an update on the situation. While Buckley still had yet to be confirmed spotted, there had been an anonymous tip that Krycek was in league with Buckley. While the SACs of the branch offices were not as quick, Skinner was the one to make the connection. He hung up without giving Scully any orders to immediately return or what to do next. He promised to call her the next day if there had been any developments.

But this newest update from Skinner had left her uneasy. Their boss had danced around the possibility of recalling his two agents back from their vacation but had not stated anything directly. She watched the waves, memorized, and let her thoughts drift. This vacation of theirs was already turning south with each new update about Buckley. She was beginning to feel paranoid, like a haunting ghost on the edge of her vision. She sighed and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting behind her. Although she couldn’t see the sun at this point, it was already painting the sky in a brilliant canvas of colors and hues of reds, pinks, purples, and oranges. She tried to let herself get lost in the beauty of the moment but her anxiety grew worse.

She watched the last of the sun fade into darkness and went back into the beach house. Scully glanced at the green digital clock on the microwave and frowned when she read 7:13. Mulder should have been back by now. She tapped her knuckles lightly against each other to ward against the growing anxiety. She heard the main door unlock and his musical voice call, “Scully, I’m back! You’ll never guess what I picked up!”

She tried to refrain from clutching her pounding heart but failed. “Took you long enough!”

“I’m sorry, but you know how I get sometimes. Something catches my eyes and poof.”

She could hear him climbing the stairs, trying to juggle plastics takeout bags. He appeared, dropped the armload of food and a nondescript black plastic bag on the counter. He sneaked up behind her, kissed her, and whispered, “Miss me that much?”

She nodded, twisting her head to meet his kiss. “Always.”

He hummed and flexed around her. “You’re tense.”

“I spoke to Skinner earlier.” She tried to relax as she spoke. He hummed. “And I...let’s just discuss it tomorrow okay? We’ll lock the doors, keep our weapons nearby, and play it safe. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you say,” he whispered. “So, for dinner, I got us a surprise.”

“Dare I ask?”

He broke away but not before stealing another kiss. “We’re on the coast. You know the seafood is fresh. I literally just got it so you know it is good.”

“Get to point. Why were you late?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “I went up the strip a couple of miles and found this really cute place.”

“You just used the word cute.” She frowned teasingly, his lighter mood getting the best of her. “Did you find us china patterns?”

“That is a future date at the Alexandria farm market. I got us the best seafood.” He began to unpack the bags. “For starters, Agent Scully baked oysters.”

“An aphrodisiac, Mulder?”

He held up a finger to silence her. “Next, a course of shared soup, that is she-crab soup.” She laughed and hid her face. “Next, honestly I couldn’t decide between landlubbers and the sea, so a buffalo chicken wrap I think will heat up well tomorrow and a lovely scallop dinner…”

“I love scallops.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I got us a combo. Scallops and local shrimp with a salad and a baked potato. But, to answer your burning question, the reason why I took so long…” From his back pocket. She could hear the crinkling of a paper gift bag and he held out the mysterious wrapped package in the palm of his hand. “I saw this and immediately thought of you.”

“Mulder.”

With the food momentarily forgotten, she pulled off the paper and revealed a small velvet box. “You see, I can’t see you in another necklace than a cross or bracelets or rings but earrings...for sure.” She popped open the box and drew in a sharp breath. “Do you like them?”

“Mulder, these are beautiful.” She examined two fine little stud earrings with a sand dollars designed in the silver overlay. “Silver?”

“No, white gold.” He shrugged. “It was in this little kitschy shop run by a local artist who makes jewelry. I just thought.”

“I love them.” She awarded him with a kiss. “Thank you. In fact, I’ll put them on now just to show you.”

“You don’t have to. Besides, I know you well enough you will murder me first if I don’t feed you.”

“I am not that bad.” She closed the box and replied, “Thank you.”

“For what? Dinner or the earrings?”

“Everything.”

He pulled the plates and bowls down from the cabinet. Scully busied herself with fetching silverware and napkins, inwardly defeating the idea to tell Mulder about Skinner’s call until after dinner. He glanced out the window to the deck. “What about eating outside tonight?”

“Let’s eat at the breakfast island and then go outside. It was getting chilly while I was out there a while ago.”

He nodded and went to the radio in the living room. Mulder fiddled with the dial and settled on a classic rock station playing the Eagles. She set out dinner and he joined her. They silently sat next together over dinner. “So,” he asked, unsure of the silence, “what do you want to do tomorrow?”

She paused on the shrimp she was working on. “Skinner called while you were out,” she began. “Giving us an update. We got two SACs and field offices chasing this, along with Skinner, but no one has yet to confirm seeing Buckley aside from the fact they’ve flooded the airwaves with his picture. But there was an anonymous source that Krycek is involved.”

Mulder was quiet, cutting half of the baked potato. “Well, we both know the Smoker is involved. Morely’s were found on the site of his breakout.”

“I know,” she whispered. “He said he’ll update us again tomorrow and Skinner hasn’t ordered us back to Washington. Yet.”

“I sense a but coming, Scully.”

“But since we came down here, I can’t help but feel off or like we’re being watched or followed during all this.” She picked up her fork and dipped a scallop into the melted butter. “When we were at the lighthouse the other day…”

“You felt like we were being watched?”

She nodded, averting her gaze. “I know it doesn’t sound like me.”

“I trust your instincts, Scully.” He looked down at his own food. “And I got the same feeling too.”

“Our money would be gone.”

“But we would be safer.”

“As is our vacation.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I am not spending the rest of the two weeks we took off months in advance in an FBI safe house.”

“What would happen if we were closer for them to keep an eye on us? Skinner is in Norfolk right with the two SACs. Virginia Beach isn’t that far. I remember when we were there a few months ago hearing about Sandbridge. It was advertised to be like the Outer Banks without leaving Virginia. We could take the hit on the money and have the FBI pay for it.”

“Or get them to refund it and then pay for it. We’ve earned it at least.”

“I can’t agree more.” He sighed. “How do you want to play this, Scully.?”

“I want our vacation.”

“But?”

“I just can’t shake the feeling something is going to happen.”

Mulder rubbed his chin, forgetting he had melted butter all over his hands. She frowned and took a napkin, gently wiping it away. “Thanks. But back to your feelings,” he said. “I agree and have the same feeling.” He watched her reaction as she kept her face neutral like a poker player. “But I think we should consider our safety first.”

She nodded.

“What are you thinking,” he asked softly.

“That we can never catch a break. Let’s go outside after dinner and sit for a bit in the hammock. We can pack tomorrow after we call Skinner.” She sighed. “You know, I really was looking forward to having a real vacation with you.”

He nodded. “We can still have it,” he said.

“Can we? As I said, it feels like we can never catch a break.”

With the mood suddenly sourer, they both finished their meals and discarded the dishes. Scully hand-washed all the dishes they had been using, including the few sitting in the dishwasher. Mulder gathered a sweatshirt for her, two glasses, and the small bottle of aged rum he had purchased from them. She eyed the small liquor bottle. “I’m sorry, Mulder to be the downer of the party.���

He shook his head and walked over to her. He trapped her between the counter and his arms. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head against his chest. He smiled at her open display of affection. “You’re never the downer at a party.”

“I never told you about my first and last high school party.”

“Well, how about we part-tay outside to that hammock for one night and you can tell me. I’ll bring the booze.”

Scully chuckled. “What would my father say?”

“Hang and quarter him on the yardarm?”

“Aye,” she teased. She kissed him. “Help, I’ve been charmed by a pirate from New England who thought I was a mermaid.”

“That is terrible,” he whispered. They both smiled. “But more of an angel than a mermaid.”

“Let’s go outside. High tide was just coming in when I was out there earlier.”

Scully pulled on the sweatshirt he had brought her and the two glasses and the liquor bottle. Mulder followed behind her, turning out most of the lights as he did. She sat on the hammock like a big lounge chair and made room for him. She rocked it gently as Mulder eased himself next to her. “Let me do the swinging,” he told her. “My legs are longer.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

Scully poured them both a drink and held up his. She chinked the glasses together. “To our vacation being ruined.”

“Well, if it weren’t for the x-files, we wouldn’t be here and I don’t regret a second of it with you.”

“Fox Mulder the sentimental,” she whispered lovingly. Mulder wrapped his arm tightly around her and she chuckled. “I love you.”

He smiled and whispered, “Not a single second.” His long legs began to rock them. “We’re going to be okay.”

She nodded absently. She rested against his arm and listened to the ocean. “We’ll go back to Virginia tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell Skinner to make plans to keep us in Virginia Beach.”

“And get us a beach house. I’m not staying in a motel.”

“Won’t argue with that.”

She sighed. “Fucking Buckley.”

“Fucking Buckley,” he agreed.

“So, it’s settled?”

“Yes. I’ll make the call. Right now, let’s just enjoy the beach.”

He nodded and rocked the hammock with his long legs as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment with Mulder.

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

12. Part 4

Sometimes the graffiti on some parts on the home freak me out, like those ugly eyes. What is even that all about, pulling a face as I walked off and then jumped hearing the cage being rattled “fuck” his dogs are just everywhere, I mean they are not barking but they are staring at me. It’s actually incredibly quiet around here, I can only imagine it’s Chris making all the noise. That is kind of good to have such freedom to be who you want, to have the silence and the freedom to do what you want. Let me just ring Jen, because it is late. Pressing my phone against my ear, she did call me earlier but I was asleep and then I was arguing with Chris “I was worried, well not worried but Mel and I think you were having sex” these bitches are just annoying “really? Is that all you both think, well I will not be back tonight. Not for sex, so be quiet. Something came up, I am fine. So, I will just meet you there at the hanger. I will be leaving still ok? Just make sure my things are together and I will meet you all there” Jen let out an oh “why? What came up? The baby shower was so cute Robyn, like me and Mel were gushing so that is why we said you both had sex” she is nosey, I mean I would be the same “nothing bad, it’s nice he did that. Just we are talking but it’s fine. I am going now, night bitches” disconnecting the call and sighed out heavily, I am just at a loss. I don’t want him doing drugs but to lie and do it on the low is even worse, so I am just at a loss, he sees me as a goal this time around. Nobody will ever understand us, they will never understand the bond we hold because it is only us that get it, but if I thought I would be in this situation again, hell no. I just don’t know, what if I don’t be with him then what, I am saying if because I can’t predict the future but what if I just say no, I can’t be the goal. I am no fucking scientist on bipolar either.

Googling things don’t help but you never know, I googled Bipolar and love, I mean that is descriptive as fuck but maybe if I can just understand him like others don’t, I suppose it could help. I know this is bigger then me but he won’t do anything about it, last time there was no baby involved so I could just walk away and end it but I believe him, when he said he would find me, he would. He did in New York, but I refused to see him, and I cut all ties with him but this won’t be that easy, he will knock my door down. This is rather informative actually; I actually do feel I am on a roller-coaster with him. It actually says about his sex drive being more active than usual and the want for affairs, that is interesting because he hasn’t initiated that with me at all but he respects me in a whole different way, scrolling down “prolonged sadness” I read to myself, he continues to tell me I will leave him with his sad self, like that is bugging him that I am not near him, that is totally stressing himself out “is it an episode or real love” I read to myself, now reading this, this is not an episode because he is not like that with me. I just trigger this for him, I did last time and it is again. Looking up from my phone, looking at the gate and hearing some cars are pulling up, frowning a little “that nigga is home!” I jumped at the dogs barking, oh no someone is here. Making my way back into the home, I do not know this place at all “I am not feeling it, fuck off. I am home but I don’t want any of you here so leave” Chris already on the phone but I am going to hide behind him, he better get rid of them.

Chris turned around “you hiding behind me?” he laughed, he laughed right in my face like he would want me to be caught in his home “they gone, they just trying to get me out. Enjoyed my dogs? I was watching you” he pointed at the cameras, of course he was “they had more sense then you, you’re right” he’s annoying, walking off. I need to sit down “the pizza is coming, baby shower ain’t over” rolling my eyes, he’s acting like everything is ok “have you had sex since you had sex with me?” I am nosey, since reading that I just need to know “nope but I got two pizzas, I got some chicken one and margherita, some wings, breadsticks. You will be fed good, is that ok?” I don’t know if to laugh or cry, he is a whole goofy ass nigga that is just ignoring the issue “that is fine, thanks” sitting on the couch, so he hasn’t had sex with nobody else “why haven’t you had sex with anyone Chris? I mean you like sex, so?” he is lying “you’re lying to me” watching him walk towards the couch “I did actually but I didn’t finish, but I haven’t since I found out. I had sex because I was upset you got pregnant” he doesn’t even know what day it is “Chris” watching him sit down, my heart just fell for him and I hate that it has because I am trying hard to make him see sense “I hope you like the pizza here, I always get it from there, also thanks for staying. I would be upset if you went” I feel sad for him, but I am also angry and annoyed that he had it.

He seems not phased by what happened or what was said, he is happier that I stayed “Chris, honest truth. Tell me what you want from me? Like nothing to do with the baby but what do you want from me? Be truthful because I can’t deal with lies” I love this man so much, I really do “you said we were toxic, but I don’t think it is like that, but I want you. I want to be with you, I think we can be happy if you let me love you the way you deserve Robyn, I am good. I just get excited and I need to calm down, that was it, but I am here. I am just medicating myself; I don’t fuck with what they give me. Robyn you don’t understand, you think this shit is not real, but you saved me because I want to be good. I have always thought about you, I keep the memories around of you. I tried to love others, but I can’t, I got jealous to see how well you are doing, how loved you are and wished I had that, I really want that. I want you” putting my head down “what if at the end I don’t want you” I have to ask “I don’t think you wouldn’t want me, if I can be the man you always wanted me to be you won’t. I just need time and I need to be around you more; I hate being away from you. Now I got you here, I ain’t going to let that go and I won’t let anyone fuck with it, you’re having my baby and I am not playing that, I just need time I just see myself with you. And that is it, the love I hold for you is immense, it’s dangerous. I see why other niggas go or stop caring because I don’t change and it because I don’t care for them, I don’t care for what you say, I ain’t going to love kids first, it’s you” I breathed out, I feel his love for me, I really do “ok” I said in a whisper.

“You’re saying ok because I am right, I ain’t no dumb nigga Robyn. I know everything that be going on, I see people take advantage of me, I do. I am not stupid, I just at times go a little too far and I ended up with two kids, that is on me, but I am not no stupid nigga. And I am not going to sit back and relax and let you take my daughter away, at the end of the day I want you and I want that life you hold on the other side, I will always respect what you want because of the love I hold for you. You want me to change and hold off about us and I respect that, but I know what I want and I know what you want, just that I am not no perfect nigga, I ain’t that at all. I am far from that, because I may be ok on this day, then tomorrow I might do something stupid like today, that is just me. I am a head strong guy, you are a head strong woman and when I left the home after you told me, I was like this is not going to work because I want what I want, I know my life is a mess that is why I see you, I see a good life. I see a sense of security so you right. I will let you take the lead, I could change any day, but for what and for who? My kids are their mothers, I am the person to pay for them, and with you, it’s just love. I feel like, hear me out. I feel like god has put you in front of me, because I was lost, I have slept well since you have been in my life, I just don’t know. I know what you want from me, but I have those moments like then, where my mind races and I have to just calm it down. It races because I have ideas and I jump at it because I want it, like you. So, what I want from you, is to be there for me at the end, even if as a friend. When I say end, I mean where I am leading a better life, and pizza is here. They text my phone, I will be back” Chris got up from the couch, watching him walk off. I have never doubted Chris’ mental state, he is not dumb at all but the drugs don’t help him, smiling at Chris as he is looking at me just stood waiting for the pizza, he is not wrong because I do love him.

He has ordered way too much pizza, like what is the reason for this “reminds me of New York” wiping my hands on the tissues “late night New York adventures, that was fun. Also bad, my mom be bugging, like I am trying to have sex with you, and she is there just bugging. I wish my mom were in Barbados too, I was wishing it everyday cause we be getting pizza, we go back to the hotel and my mom was waiting for us, she said we too young. But then I goes ma, I am corny she doesn’t want me like that. You would be waiting on me all the time, you stalked me more. I don’t have a clue why either” Chris shook his head “I don’t either because you weren’t even that cute” I laughed “but you accepted dick” he retorted “and you came too quick, mhm. Caribbean pussy had you choked up, don’t play me” Chris blushed putting his head down “your titties are bigger though, more recent. Before pregnancy all that, they grown. I am impressed, I remember that” he smiled “thank you” I said for the compliment “it was just meant to be, I was meant to see you. You made me laugh the very first day I met you” he really did, and he does now “I got a question for you, so what do you want from me. What is it you are wanting?” looking at him returning the question, smirking at him “uhh, well I want you to be a better you, the guy I know you are to be. I think it has changed my mind on what I wanted, speaking with you as really made me see clearly about things. I want you to call me when you are feeling down, I want you to get sleep, I want you to wake up feeling optimistic that you will be alongside me with the birth of our baby. I just want the best of you, but I honestly want you to call me. I don’t know when I will be back in America now, so it will be you coming to me and if and when you do come and London doesn’t happen, we will take that on when it happens. We will figure it out. I don’t want you to think that is it, just because I am going I am leaving you behind, I just don’t want to be here. It’s such a toxic place, leaking information here and there before you can even give birth” Chris gets sad when I say that I am going “Bey and Jay didn’t leave America” I laughed, I had to laugh “I don’t trust Chris, you should know this by now. I mean you think I am liked but, it’s all bullshit. On the low they don’t, and it’s them. I won’t get that treatment, just like my album got that shit treatment, it’s all a fraud Chris. I feel the same way about it. It kind of makes me happy that you want to step into my life” I am shocked he actually said that.

Chris chuckled “I do, I see good. You have this tight bubble where you move, your people do and you all do it together. You could have kept this pregnancy a secret until the very birth of it, this is how you move now. I go to play basketball, and everyone knows, I want peace. I want to hide; I don’t want to be in the limelight anymore. Because I am never in it for the right reasons, I am like an excited ball of energy. I think with what I have I need it, I need to have that end line, I need to have that goal. I never had that, I just had my drugs and party. I fucked up, I get it but you and I both know that we are good, when it is just us” nodding my head “I uhm, I Googled what you had to make some kind of sense of it, because I needed to understand it” Chris’ smile as I said it to him just made me stop speaking “what is it?” I asked “you Googled what I got, it’s just nice to hear someone trying to understand me. You know when I say I got Bipolar, like this one time I kicked off. I do it sometimes, I have this moment when the sun rises. I love the feel of it, just silence and that. They was playing music and I kicked off, and I felt bad, so I said my bad, you know. It’s just my mental state. I felt like I got laughed at and it was a joke, they just stupid nigga. It’s the drugs, you have a lot of it. Like with my mom, we just don’t talk. Unless it’s Royalty, we don’t even speak on anything anymore, she lives her own life now. Uses my name for her clothing line and that is it. I follow her and then unfollow her, then when I comment on your picture, when I did. I got bullied and people don’t see it as that, because I am Chris Brown, do I not have feelings. People don’t understand how much it hurts to be constantly the bad guy, nobody could be me, nobody could just be me and utter a word and get bullied about it, I could literally drive my car and it would say Chris Brown sped down the highway and then they will say people still support that, he is still alive? Now for me, I have a mental illness and it’s like nobody cares, but I will always play it off. Best way, or I could just kill myself” he got up from the chair laughing “don’t say that” this is actually so sad “I am just saying, but it’s just bullshit. What did you read into? Did it say nice things?” I wish I could take him with me, just take him and nobody can touch him because he is so sensitive really “always nice” I said smiling “you’re trying to be nice to me now, they tell you to run huh” picking my plate up “but that won’t happen, let me help you clean” my mother raised me better then to just sit there, always help.

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m happy oh god i’m happy

TW: alcohol abuse, non-graphic sexual content, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self harm (in many forms), drug use, couchsurfing, mentions of delusions and paranoia, otherwise reckless behaviour

Note: this takes place in @illogicallyinclined’s hockey au and is a Prequel this is supposed to represent what Remus’s manic episodes look like everyone is different, but im using a mix of my own experiences with bipolar i and some friends who were willing to talk about theirs, then changing it to fit Remus’s existing Absolutely Feral personality, Jared and Payton are OC’s and teammates of Remus, the three of them are known for wrecking havoc at all times because none of them possess a braincell.

The art studio was empty, filled only by the assorted music of Remus’s sculpting playlist on the bluetooth speaker he brought in, and Remus himself. His hands glide through the wet clay and he basks in the slimy feeling between his fingers. Remus’s hair is held back by a small headband and he is wearing a tank top and jogging pants already covered in various mediums he has used through the day. He does not know where the energy to finish every project for this semester came from but he isn’t about to object.

If you were to look around this studio, there is a high contrast painting of a tentacle creature that is unsettling in an almost unidentifiable way, half of a self-portrait which uses resin teeth as the main element, as well as his current project of a large cup shaped like a decapitated head. In short, while Remus believes these are his best pieces, the chances of the university permitting them to be displayed are very low.

Remus gets frustrated that the music didn’t seem to be filling his inspiration in the way he hoped he changes the song revealing it to be approximately 4am, and no texts received since he sent D a picture if the teeth pile around 10pm.

—

“Can you go wake Remus up and ask if he wants any breakfast, he really shouldn’t sleep in this late, even if it is Saturday” D asks from the stove while Roman grabs his carton of milk from the fridge and doesn’t bother grabbing a cup.

D grimaces at him as he chugs back the milk, once again thankful that they have separate ones (even if that is at fault of Remus deciding to mix apple juice with milk in the carton without alerting anyone else in the household). “He actually headed out like, real early this morning, I spoke to him when I got up for a shower at like six. He said he’d be back today though?” Roman replied ignoring D’s look.

“Well, that’s even weirder. I’ll make extras so he can eat when he gets back, it's already eleven.”

“Sounds good,” Roman noticing D’s almost done slides a few plates next to him and accepts D’s soft ‘thanks’.

Suddenly they hear someone miss the keyhole three times before getting it and entering. Unsurprisingly, it’s Remus inappropriately dressed for a casual outing, surprisingly he seems to be holding several bags full of merchandise. “Helloo roommates! Look what I bought!” Remus shouts, slamming the door with his foot and bringing his bags to the couch.

“Are those... cups?” D asks turning off the stovetop to curiously check out Remus’s merch load.

“Hell yeah they are! I figured since you-” He pokes at D, “Took away all our glass cups after me and Roman went to that last party, I would take it upon myself to replace them. Look!” Remus proudly pulls the ugliest Jar Jar Binks cup out of one of the bags.

Roman visibly recoils as his brother parades the worst cup he’s ever seen around their apartment. D rolls his eyes but collects the cup and hesitantly places it into the dishwasher. “Thank you, Remus, these cups are horrid but they’re functional, which, I guess is good enough. Though, how much did these cost?”

“No idea, probably around sixty bucks total though, maybe. I went to three different thrift stores. Look at this one!” Remus holds up a vaguely terrifying cup that seems like it may have once resembled Spongebob Squarepants to Roman.

“That’s… Great, Remus, thanks” Roman says taking the offered item.

—

The three make it to practice 20 minutes early because Roman likes to prove he’s dedicated and a good captain. Coach Thomas and Joan greet them and Thomas talks to Roman briefly as Joan finishes setting things up. D and Remus do some stretches as others begin to show up, D comments on Remus being shaky and Remus hops around quickly explaining that he just woke up with a lot of energy for some reason.

Coach Thomas reminds Remus to take his time during practices speeding through everything doesn’t work if he keeps messing up before he even makes it halfway through.

—

D is going to kill Remus tomorrow morning. The repetitive sound of the bedframe slamming against their shared wall, and Remus wailing like a cat in heat at 1am is not something he wants to deal with right now. It’s a Tuesday night and D knows Remus has a class at 11am, one that D will not let him skip because he decided getting laid was more important. How does Remus even get a man to willingly enter that nightmare of a room? D rummages through his bedside table for ear plugs and regrets giving Roman the far room so easily.

—

“Jesus- Hello? Do you know what time it is?” The tired voice answers the phone after the third time of going to voicemail.

“Of course I don’t, Jared, I’m not a fucking nerd! I just thought I might extend my offer of filling the fountain in the middle of campus with bubble bath and a swim to you and Payton! D already said if I woke him up he would cut my dick off and feed it to his snake,” Remus audibly pouted at the end of his sentence.

Despite it being three am, it didn’t take a lot for Jared to wake up Payton and agree to meet him just off campus to run to the 24/7 convenience store for soap for the fountain. Remus leads the group in talking a mile a minute about something that Jared and Payton actually missed out on entirely. They try to contribute but realize Remus doesn’t notice when they have their own conversation anyways. They listen to him vaguely flit through topic after topic and get lost and confused in his own sentences, and once the soap is collected, they head to the large fountain in the middle of campus.

The fifth bottle of soap has been discarded and the fountain is sufficiently bubbly by the time the three hockey players strip to their boxers and begin their bath. There are attempted drownings, bubble beards, and the fountain change being thrown around.

At some point Remus stops talking for a second, observing the lithium bulbs through the fountain streams and bubbles floating across the courtyard. For a moment, he thinks he’s never been this happy in his life, these last few days have been the best days of his life. He lets Jared and Payton know this and like stare at him for a moment before teasing him about going soft and a few “I love you, bro” “Dude, you mean so much to me” and such were exchanged. They leave moments before campus security’s due to do their rounds in the early morning and laugh when about an hour later they receive a campus-wide notification to avoid the courtyard for repairs.

—

Remus spends most of practice being more annoying than usual. He gets a bit more of a stern talking to than he has in a while, in response says that he’ll try to do better to prepare for the game this weekend.

—

He did not succeed and got an even sterner talking to by Coach Thomas and Joan, and then by Roman separately.

—

Remus has a brief moment of clarity regarding his spending habits from the last week and a half in the middle of his current project. His solution is instead of buying the club size container of hot sauce, he makes a trip to the Taco Bell off campus. After dropping off the rest of his goods at the apartment, it was pretty late in the evening and he was dressed in nothing but neon green basketball shorts, slides, and a pretty badly stained grey tank top. Thankfully, Florida weather permitted this, though the looks he had been receiving all day disagreed. It likely did not help that if prompted, Remus wasn’t 100% on the last time that he slept, but if he had to guess it was two or three days ago, but that was probably a maximum of five hours. Surprisingly, he had never felt so good in his life. He’s also pretty sure he’s said that a lot this week.

He leaves Taco Bell with a small meal bag full of hot sauce at no cost.

—

D doesn’t ask any questions when he uses the bathroom in the early morning and is met with the sight of Remus in the bathtub. He is covered in a large variety of substances. The floor is covered in Taco Bell hot sauce wrappers, there’s a box full of water balloons of various colours and sizes. Remus waves with his available hand before he resumes filling the current water balloon with what may be a bulk container of banana lube. D pisses, not bothering to ask Remus to leave and just pulls the shower curtain over a little before washing his hands and deciding to figure it out tomorrow.

The next day, D woke up around 10am to a few texts saying some prick is throwing weird water balloons at first years off this academic building on campus. D didn’t think much about it until he was leaving his 12:30 lecture walking past splatters of mayo, egg, egg shells, hot sauce, and more, all separately. While observing the damage he found Remus asleep on some grass outside said academic building and had to call Logan for help to get him home. The two are used to this by now and D reminds himself to tell Remus to clear his ‘great ideas’ with someone containing a braincell.

—

Remus spends a good majority of his day listening to one song in the living room of the shared apartment. He was there when D left for classes, he was there when Roman left a little later in the day, failing to go to his own classes at all that day. The second D returns for lunch Remus is trying to explain a hidden meaning in the song, D brushes it off and reminds Remus, that to pass his classes he has to at least go.

—

This is Remus’s third night out in an area of town he really doesn’t know. He went home yesterday for early practice before coming back out. He knows it didn’t go well.

In attempts to make himself feel better, he blew a guy who’s name he already forgot but was hot as hell, he lost count of the shots he’s done, but at least there’s no practice tomorrow. He doesn’t have to worry about when he goes home, doesn’t have to worry about Roman or D and their weird concerned looks. He’s doing great! Why are they concerned, they just don’t get it.

At 2 am everyone gets kicked out of the club. Remus walks six blocks with his new friends with the promise of couch space to crash on and additional alcohol.

It’s suddenly 4:47 am and Remus is the only one awake and all the booze is gone. He is sitting under lithium streetlights smoking a cigarette on the porch of a strangers house with the humid Florida wind enables him to sit comfortably without a jacket. There is a moment, with sirens in the distance that Remus lets his eyes go out of focus. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels present. There is cracked cement under his feet, a dog barking a few houses down, and he wonders why he’s even here. The hidden Prince twin, here, in a city he has only been to once for a tournament, in a stranger’s house, drunk off his ass, his phone dead. He takes time to wonder, is this fun to him? It has to be right? Why did he just leave without telling anyone? Spending nights on the streets, or finding someone to go home with just so he didn’t have to find somewhere else to sleep. Is this who he is now?

He doesn’t know if he can answer that. Remus shakes himself before putting out his cigarette on his arm and deciding it doesn’t matter.

He still doesn’t sleep that night, but plugs in his phone and decides he needs to go home soon.

—

This is a different club than the previous night, someone sold Remus a few pills earlier and he figured why not? He feels better than ever. He lets the man he’s making out with know that and he lets out a kind of raspy laugh that Remus thinks is the hottest thing. He lets the other man know that too before sticking his tongue down his throat.

—

Remus is in the park yelling. It is almost 6pm, he pauses for a moment, completely forgetting what he was yelling about. He realizes that he is pretty drunk. Remus would normally like to say he only drinks with an excuse, but he doesn’t remember why he’s drunk, or how he got to the park. This isn’t near campus, he doesn’t recognize this park at all. He just stops yelling and googles the next bus to take him home.

—

Upon arriving home and greeting D, Remus falls asleep in his room for almost 12 hours to make up for the missing sleep from the last four days. When he is woken up for food and offered tylenol for his hangover, he tries to tell them he doesn’t have one. They don’t believe him, but he takes the food. Remus makes a joke recalling how the other day all he had eaten was some stale croutons he found in a pantry and half a bottle of Fireball he found in the fridge nearby. The joke did not land, but he was too busy laughing about it to notice.

The three eat their Sunday lunch with small amounts of banter and D switching between who he agrees with based on who’s statement didn’t sound like it came from a six year old. As they clean up, Remus starts excitedly talking about something that’s topic changed around four times in one sentence. Roman feigns interest but got lost and doesn’t care enough; D listens and has to ask Remus to repeat things slower every few minutes.

—

Several times throughout the night, D hears Remus loudly leave his room to check the front door. In the early morning D doesn’t hear Remus return to his room, but faintly hears netflix turn on in the living room.

In the morning, Remus seems wary of the door but does not say anything.

—

One day while messing around in the kitchen Remus is struck with the need to just go. The urge is so strong that the more he stands still in the kitchen the more his body just begins to tremble with barely contained energy. He doesn’t quite know where he’s going yet, but as he grabs his wallet, double checking he has his bus pass and ID, a jacket, his phone, and his keys. Without telling anyone, he walks to the main exchange near campus where he hops on the first bus that arrives. The bus isn’t particularly busy, and it makes it easier for him as he settles into the back of the bus bopping to his music, but not having the focus to listen to a song all the way through. He hits his hands softly on the very 90’s looking patterned seats to the beat of the song, watching out the windows with both legs bouncing. He rides this bus to the end of the line and catches the next bus to arrive at that bus exchange that takes him into a new smaller city. The sun is beginning to set and he finds a pub to grab some food and a few drinks at.

An hour and a half and four drinks later Remus is fighting some asshole in the pub and they both get kicked out. He wanders these smaller streets buzzed and poking at forming bruises while he smokes a cigarette. He walks by a convenience store and two homeless men outside ask him for a cigarette, he shares and spends a solid amount of time socializing with them and gets some booze for his troubles. They eventually part ways when one of them come out from the bathroom with a pack of stolen cookies. The store attendant chases them away and Remus finds himself wandering down empty streets again. Eventually, Remus decides to sleep for a few hours curled up in a stairwell, he doesn’t quite sleep, but does relax. Again, in the sounds of small city life, yellowed flickering light bulbs, and humid wind, Remus wonders why he’s out here.

—

The flashing neon lights and bass heavy music resonate through Remus’s bones like electricity giving him a never ending feedback loop of energy. Just before the club closes Remus sweet-talks a kind of nerdy looking guy into taking him home, while he’s mostly just hoping to not sleep outside tonight, getting laid wont hurt either.

—

Sneaking out of someone’s house before they wake up isn’t something Remus is necessarily proud of, but he doesn’t want to risk them doing something cheesy like make him breakfast. Sorry sir, Remus is a Manic Pixie Nightmare Boy, do not catch feelings, do not use for your own character development. He laughs to himself a little walking down the morning rush streets.

—

After waking up in bed with a man he doesn’t remember meeting the night before is a little jarring, but this is not the first time. It makes him wonder briefly if something is wrong with him. Remus is tired. Exhausted with himself and getting a little tired of this much fun. Instead of finding a diner for breakfast he catches a bus home and asks Logan if they can hang out tomorrow. If anyone will force him to go home, go to practice, sleep and not give him a choice to study or not without expecting him to explain himself. It will be everyone’s favourite Large Nerd. Remus doesn’t know what’s happening or why he feels like this, but he needs to go home and stop this for a little bit.Virgil, D, and Logan will help him get things a little back on track.

[cuteandtwisted]

prompt: "unrequited". hurt me ❤️

(I don’t know about hurting you bb. But here you go. Unrequited. ft blind & confused Even and bold and confident Isak) 

“Truth or dare.”

Even is on the floor, his long legs folded in front of him and hurting a bit around the knees. A bottle is pointing at him and a drunk girl is laughing to his right. It’s Friday night.

Even hasn’t done Friday nights in a while, but Elias insisted it would do him some good. So he ends up on the floor playing truth or dare with a bunch of drunk kids he barely knows.

“Dare,” Even mouthes, much to everyone’s delight.

“Kiss Sara!” Some girl orders him. “With tongue!”

Even has no idea who Sara is. He looks to the only familiar face around the circle they’ve been forming for over fifteen minutes now. Isak.

He’s Sana’s friend from school and Even first met him at the Bakkoush house a few months ago. He’s easy to talk to, funny, smart, confident, great at FIFA, too great actually. Even enjoys his company despite barely enjoying anyone’s lately.

Isak subtly gestures to the girl to Even’s left with his eyes, the presumed Sara that he has to kiss. Even gets on his knees and pecks her forehead.

He gets booed. He laughs it off. They forgive him because they claim to know that he just went through a “bad break-up“. It’s not even true. He’s on good terms with Sonja. But he’ll take it, glad they’re not making him kiss the random girl on the mouth.

He sits back down and gives Isak a grateful look. Isak nods and it’s like they have their very own secret language. Elias jokingly commented on it before, and Even has been careful not to use it since to avoid specifically this.

This. The subtle flush currently spreading on Isak’s cheeks. The flush that always spreads on his cheeks and down the back of his neck when they have a moment. Even looks away.

This is bad.

Even knows Isak is gay and that he’s not ashamed of it. And he admires him for being so comfortable in his skin. He really does. But Elias said that he thinks Isak has a crush on him. And Even doesn’t wish to lead him on. He doesn’t wish to get tangled up in any sort of drama this year.

But then again, it’s probably all in his head. Isak probably doesn’t care about him. It’s probably the alcohol making his cheeks pink and his stare tender and-

“Isak, truth or dare?”  

Even didn’t even notice that someone spinned the bottle again.

“Truth,” Isak replies, chuckling.

“Boring!” Someone shouts.

“Whatever.”

“True or False: you like someone around this circle?”

Even stills, tightness in his chest. He’s the only other guy in the circle. Isak is gay. He’s the only option. This is it.

Isak laughs it off like it’s nothing, brings his beer to his mouth, then chugs it.

Loud shrieks, cheers, and laughter erupt around the room. And it’s almost as loud as in Even’s brain. This is everything he was hoping to avoid.

“Oh my god! I knew it! You like Even, don’t you?! Don’t you, huh?!” Some girl named Eva nearly jumps on Isak’s lap.

.

“It’s true. I like you.” Isak tells him very matter-of-factly on their way home. They usually walk home together given that their apartments are close.

Even is nearly sucking on a cigarette, his cheeks hollowing while Isak stares at his side profile, his hands in his pockets.

Even doesn’t reply.

“Does it bother you?” Isak asks.

“That you like me?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

They walk and the air feels brutally cold on Even’s skin.

“But you don’t feel the same way,” Isak says next. It’s not a question but it sounds like one.

“I don’t swing that way. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Isak gasps. “I thought-. Hm.” A pause. “Never mind.”

“You heard things.” Even concludes.

“I did,” says Isak. “Is it not true?”

“If you’re asking if it happened, the answer is yes,” Even shrugs. He’s had this conversation before. It doesn’t bother him as much anymore.  

“That’s the definition of swinging that way, Even.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. So no, it isn’t.”

Isak snorts. He actually does. “It just slipped into your mouth?”  

“I’m bipolar.”

“I know that. What’s the correlation?”

“Sometimes when you’re bipolar, you do things you don’t mean. Like hurt people you care about and break things and steal money and-”

“And suck dick?” Isak interrupts him.

Well.

“Yeah I guess.”

“Are you saying that gayness is a symptom of your bipolar?”

“It was an isolated incident. So like. Whatever.”

It should be awkward and tense. But it isn’t. Even doesn’t feel much. He feels numb all the time. It’s almost suffocating.

“So I take it that you didn’t enjoy it?” Isak asks eventually.

“What? Sucking dick?”

“Yeah.”

“No, not really.”

“Okay.”

They walk a bit further, and Even is surprised upon realizing that he doesn’t mind Isak’s company after his confession. Not even one bit.

“Are we still playing FIFA tomorrow?” Isak asks.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Even echoes.

Isak turns around, starts walking backward and pulls his hoodie over his soft curly hair.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna say anything else?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Aren’t straight guys supposed to freak out when a gay guy says he likes them?” Isak teases.

“Well, let’s say I don’t blame you for liking me,” Even teases right back.

“Don’t get cocky,” Isak shoves him, laughing. If he can laugh about it, then his feelings weren’t that deep. This is good.

“Isn’t that what you like about me?”

“Your fake confidence? No.”

“Oh yeah? What is it then?” Even jokes. It’s not very nice, but Isak seems to be enjoying the banter.

“Your blowjob lips,” Isak says with a smile. “Quite a waste now that we’re talking about it.”

It’s Even’s turn to shove him now. “You’ve got a filthy mouth. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Hmm. Yes,” Isak teases again, feigning a moan. “Make me shut my filthy mouth, daddy.”

“You’re a fucking riot, huh.” Even laughs.

Isak laughs too, stretches his arms, sways his hips a little bit, his steps uneven. He looks so free, so carefree. He’s lovely under the moonlight like this.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” says Isak.

“What makes you think I need cheering?”

“Dunno. Just a hunch. You look like shit. No offense.”

“One would think I’m the one who just got rejected.”

“Too soon, asshole.”

They laugh. Even doesn’t think much when he wraps his arm around his shoulders as they walk. Because if Isak is hurting, he will tell him.

His feelings probably weren’t that deep.

.

They play FIFA and hang out at Sana’s house and even see each other at Uni for lunch. It’s no big deal. Isak does most of the talking, ranting about his classes or raving about the latest true crime documentary he watched on Netflix or synthesizing some conspiracy theory he read on Reddit. Isak talks and Even watches, nods, laughs. Isak is funny and smart. He’s his friend. It’s no big deal.

Isak invites him to parties thrown by his department and Even goes because it’s no big deal. And they might always end the night laughing over joints instead of finding someone to take home, but it’s fine. Even doesn’t like to do hook-ups and he’s not looking to jump into a relationship with some girl anyway.

“What about that guy over there? Should I go for it?” Isak asks him, always asks him before hitting on someone like he needs Even’s permission.

“You can do whatever you want, Isak.”

“Yes, but do you think he’s hot? I need a straight guy’s opinion.”

He’s so full of shit. But it still makes Even laugh. “He’s not as hot as you,” he tells him because that’s what he wants to hear. Isak looks smug.

“I won’t hook up with him then,” he says.

“If you’re looking for someone hotter than you, you’re probably gonna end up celibate for the rest of your life.”

“You realize that this isn’t very heterosexual of you? Right?” Isak teases, leans in a bit closer than he normally would.

“I’m just stating facts.”

“No. You’re flirting with me. It’s embarrassing.”

“Me? Flirting with you? Where? Show me where.”

“You’re a literal child.” Isak rolls his eyes but he’s smiling.

“Show me where I flirted. Show me!”

Even doesn’t know when he put his hands on him, tickling him, but Isak’s body feels sturdy yet tender under his fingers. He’s all muscles and soft skin. Even wants to keep touching. Even is confused.

Isak puts his hands on his, brings him closer until they’re chest to chest, pressed against the wall.  

“You want me to show you where? Hm?” Isak whispers into his ear and it’s filthy. He slides his right hand between them and cups him between his legs. “Here. Right here.”

Even gasps.

“Is this for me, baby?” Isak tilts his head and smiles before shoving him gently.

“Fuck off, yeah?” Even chuckles nervously then awkwardly runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you always half hard or only when I’m around?”

“Stop that right now.”

“You should probably get yourself checked. Your symptoms are showing, Bech Næsheim.”

Then he walks away, all smug and proud while Even erupts behind him. Fuck.

“I won’t let you get away with it,” Even follows him outside.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Suck me off?”

“Shut up!” Even pulls jumps on his back and brings both of them down.

They wrestle on the grass like idiots, end up with weeds in their mouths, and laughter in their chests. And Isak lets him wrap his arms around his shoulder on their way home.

“True or false: you had a good time with me tonight,” Isak asks.

“True.”

It’s no big deal.

.

“Is it true you’re hooking up with Isak?” Elias asks him one day.

“Huh?! No, we’re friends. Why?”

“Didn’t he confess his feelings to you back at that party?”

“Yeah and I told him I wasn’t interested. No big deal.”

“Yet you’re always together, touching and shit.”

“What’s your point?” Even asks, annoyed and irritated now.

“Are you sure you’re just friends? I mean to him. Did you make it clear to him? Sana won’t forgive me if you hurt him.”

“Hurt him?” Even snorts. “Isak doesn’t give a single shit. I don’t think anyone can hurt him.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Elias warns him. “You only see what he allows you to see. You should know better.”

Right. Ouch. Even used to be a better human being, once upon a time. Before all the walls and all the smoke.

“I’m not doing anything. And he doesn’t like me anymore. He’s over it. We’re just bros.”

.

It turns out that he’s wrong. Even mentions it jokingly to tease Isak about his tendency to change his mind like the wind. And Isak immediately rectifies his claim.

“I still like you. I may change my mind about plans for the evening every two seconds, but I still like you. I’d still drop on my knees right now if you asked me.”

Even is floored. It’s the most genuine reaction anyone has gotten out of him in a while. He doesn’t know what to say.

“We’re gonna need some rules, then.”

.

His rules are simple but cruel and dumb. Isak can’t say that he likes him anymore. They can’t joke about dicks or dropping on their knees. They can’t touch. They can’t be each other’s dates to parties. They can’t hang out alone.

It’s the dumbest list Even has ever come up with. But Isak doesn’t mind.

.

Even breaks all of the rules first.

He breaks them because he misses wrapping his arms around him. He misses cuddling him at the back of empty buses. He misses having a hand in his hair. And he’s not being very nice or considerate, but Isak isn’t particularly opposed to it. When Even opens his arms, Isak walks into them. It’s simple. They’re simple.

Isak is overflowing with affection to give and Even is suffocating from his blinding need for it. It’s simple. It’s a win-win arrangement.

Isak cuddles him when Even looks weary. He welcomes him between his legs when Even is feeling down and Isak is sitting on top of a short wall while they wait for their tram, running his hands up and down his back the way Even likes it. He plays with his hair when Even is trying to fall asleep in the library but can’t.

Isak is always up for it. Always giving him what he needs without asking for anything in return. Even wonders if Isak feels anything at all.

“True or false: if I were a girl, you’d be in love with me right now.” Isak asks him one night after a party. They’re sharing a bed. They’re drunk. It’s late. Even has no idea whose room or apartment this is.

“True.”

Isak pecks him on the mouth and Even opens up for him like he’s been waiting for this. Even breathes him in, slips his tongue between his lips, moans down his throat, puts his hands all over him. Then when it gets too much, he pushes him away.

“I don’t want to lead you on,” he pants.

“You put your tongue in my mouth,” Isak says with hurt in his voice. He’s never sounded hurt before.

“I wanted to know what it would feel like when I’m not manic. Don’t knock it until you try it, right?”

“And how did it feel?”

“Like nothing.”

.

Isak starts seeing some guy, Jakob or something. He stops touching Even. He stops cuddling him and giving him the physical comfort he needs and craves.

None of this is fair but watching Isak with the new object of his affections makes him crumble on the inside.

“True or false: you miss me.” Isak asks when he approaches him at the bar. Even has been staring at him all night like some possessive loser. They haven’t talked since that night a month ago.

“As a friend. I do.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I’m sorry for what I did.”

“It’s fine. I get it. You can’t feel what you don’t feel. I’m over it,” says Isak.

And I can’t unfeel what I feel.

“You’re over me? Really? So soon?” Even teases.

“Oh yeah. Have you seen Jakob’s mouth? He’s very talented, if you know what I mean.”

It doesn’t make Even laugh, but he lets it go. He lets him go.

.

Even is in a funk. He feels emptier than usual, a bit more numb, like his mind is shutting off on itself.

He starts missing class, then sinks a bit deeper. He goes to his psychiatrist, asks about adjusting his dosage maybe. He feels down but it’s a different kind of down. He’s not sure.

“Heart troubles maybe?” His mother teases when he tells her that he has no idea what’s wrong with him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Even chuckles.

.

Even doesn’t except him to show up, especially after one ‘I feel weird’ text. But he’s not surprised when he hears Isak greet his mother at the door.

He doesn’t move, keeps his back facing the door, and waits for Isak to join him, maybe.

But Jakob.

Isak cuddles him, spoons him, presses his nose to the back of his neck and breathes until Even feels steady again.

“What’s wrong?” Isak whispers.

“Your dick is pressing against my back.”

“Shut up,” he laughs. And Even loves feeling Isak laugh against his back while he holds him this close.

“Jakob won’t be too thrilled.”

“I don’t care about Jakob,” Isak breathes against his nape, tightening his hold around his stomach.

“What about his talented mouth?”

“I thought you were feeling down but you’re actually just fine,” Isak groans behind him, untwining his arms and beginning to move away. “I’m leaving.”

Even wraps his hand around his forearm and keeps him there.

“Stay. Please.”

Isak lies back down.

“What’s up? What’s going on?”

Even thinks. His mind is reeling and he’s struggling to understand how he’s feeling, struggling to make sense out of everything.

“Remember the stuff I said about my mania making me do gay things?”

Isak stills behind him. “I do.”

“I don’t know if that’s true anymore.”

“Your mania makes you do heterosexual things now?”

Even shoves him with his elbow. “Will you listen to me?!”

“Fine. Fine. Speak.”

“Hm. What if I really want to kiss guys? What if that’s actually what I want? What if it’s not just a symptom or whatever? What if it isn’t my brain playing tricks on me?”

Isak is quiet behind him, quiet but sturdy.

“Sonja always said that I only start having thoughts like that when I’m about to slip. And I always stopped myself, except for that time I literally went down on that guy who told everyone. But like. What if it’s unrelated? What if I’ve just been repressing myself? What if I’m full of shit? I’m so fucking lost.”

There’s a pause. Even catches his breath while Isak thinks.

“True of false: you’re just talking out of your ass because you no longer have my undivided attention.”

“Isak, I’m serious.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Even.”

“What you think, maybe?”

“What I think? I think that saying homosexuality is a symptom of mental illness is fucked up, and that it’s been hurting me all along, but I brushed it off because I thought you only said it to get rid of me and keep me at arm’s length.”

“What?” Even tries to turn in his arms, alarmed. “Isak-“

“But you’ve been thinking it and believing it all along because people put shit in your head when you were at your lowest. So I can’t even be mad at you for being so fucking repressed and blind.”

“Isak, what are you- let me-“  Even tries to turn around and take him in, but fails again, Isak holding him closer than before, so much closer.

“You kissed me the other night and my whole chest caught fire. I felt like I was gonna explode, but it meant nothing to you. You literally used the word nothing. That hurt so much.”

“Isak- I didn’t-“

“And now you summon me to talk about your feelings when you’ve been stomping all over mine for months now. You ask me to help you figure out your sexuality crisis when I’m still trying to get over that awful night. It’s a bit selfish of you, don’t you think?”

Isak leaves and Even feels like the ceiling has just crumbled on top of him. He’s been hurting Isak all along. He’s hurt him all along.

.

“Truth or dare, Isak?”

Even is sitting cross-legged on the floor with a number of people he doesn’t know and the one person he does know.

“Dare.”

“Kiss Even.”

Isak chugs his entire beer, never sparing Even a glance, like he’d rather die from intoxication than kiss Even again. He needs to fix this. He has to.

“Truth or dare, Even?”

“Dare.”

“Kiss Isak.”

Isak rolls his eyes and goes on an angry rant. “What’s with this dumb and lame dare? Why can’t you suggest something original and cool like a prank or setting some shit on fire. Why is it always fucking kissing? Like who cares?! why-”

Isak stops because Even is in front of him, barely breathing too.

“May I?” Even asks and he sounds so nervous and stupid. He just wants to do this right. Isak nods despite the frown on his face.

And Even dives right in, cups his face in both hands and kisses him like he means it, kisses it like it’s something, like it’s not ‘nothing’, like it’s everything. And Isak resists at first but he parts his lips two close-mouthed kisses in, and he’s panting by the fourth, and his hands are in Even’s hair by the fifth. And they’re laughing like idiots by the time everyone around them starts complaining and asking them to stop. But there’s no stopping. How can they stop?

Isak stands up first because Even’s knees feel weak under him, and he drags him by the hand down the stairs, and Even’s heart is beating fast so fast.

“True or false: it wasn’t ‘nothing’. It didn’t feel like nothing when you kissed me.” Isak asks, his eyes twinkling but insecurity still roaming them. Even knows. He knows him.

Even kisses him again, this time with tongue. He kisses him deep and slow, like he’s trying to get him to melt into the wall, and he feels Isak’s knees buckle and a throaty sound escape his mouth. goddamn.

“I lied to you that night,” Even breathes hard, and saying the words out loud feel weird. He was lying to himself as well. “It felt like everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Everything.”

“Romantic. Your mouth is showing lots of talent already,” Isak jokes, and he’s so lovely.

So lovely, Even can’t help but lean in with a smile and kiss him again, and again, and again until Isak’s snapback is on the floor and his hair is a mess, and Even’s mouth is red and buzzing under Isak’s thumb.

“True or false: you forgive me?” Even asks.

“Depends how this night ends,” Isak teases, throwing both arms around Even’s neck and bringing him closer. “My turn.”

“Your turn?”

“True or false: you like me too?” Isak asks, and there’s that vulnerability in his voice again. Like he’s not sure what this means to Even, like Even could kiss him for days and Isak still wouldn’t know until he tells him with words. This ridiculous boy.

“False: I love you.”

The end.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Skam Italia] Ad un passo da perdere te

The title is in Italian (A step away from losing you), from Ultimo’s Pianeti, but the fic is still in English.  So, I am totally to blame for this but I’d like to thank @ruinedbyroccofasano for listening to all my flailing and helping me picture this. Ideally it takes place at the end of ep 9, if you know what I mean.

I have absolutely NO IDEA where Martino is gonna be during episode 9.  This could turn out to be completely wrong. <

READ HERE or down below.

"You know what, mom? Pack your bag, 'cause we are going to Cecina."

The bright smile he got from his mom, the whispered "Thank you" as she kissed his temple totally overshadowed the fact that he had to take all his notes with him. Had he stayed at home, he wouldn't have been able to study anyway, so... Screw school, really.

How was he supposed to focus on some fucking dead language, on useless formulas that give him no clue on how to deal with Niccolò and his illness? What if Maddalena was right and none of what they shared had been real, not on Nico's part? What if he really did send him spiralling, only caused him more pain by indulging in his fantasies? How come he found their getaway cute and romantic when he should have been freaking out from the moment Ni bought those tickets? He had been so naive, so willfully blind to the signals there were telling him that something wasn't quite right... Besides, it was because of him and his attitude towards Emma that the Covitti siblings spread the rumor about the two of them dating. He didn't realize it back then, but Ni had been out outed as well. By someone he had to spend six hours with, five days a week. Damn.

He just wanted Niccolò to be happy. To be safe. Could he really give him that? He wasn't sure. People have tried to reassure him, saying that 'you can't fake those heart-eyes, Martì, he worships the ground you walk on (his friends) or 'he might have been a bit delusional, sometimes, but that's not a state you are in 24/7, honey... it doesn't work like that' (his mom). They claim he does make Niccolò happy, but what do they know?

What he knows is that he can't give up on them, on him. Can't even imagine how someone would walk away in a time of need. What he knows is that he loves Nico. His own parents, however, are living proof that it is not an everlasting feeling that can fix everything. It doesn't fix shit, really. Maybe he is too inexperienced, too self-centred, to be the person Niccolò needs by his side.

"Don't sell yourself short, love. All he needs is for you to be there. To feel like he can count on you." She said, when he vaguely voiced out his concerns. It can't be that simple, can it? If it was, then why...

"You know what, sweetheart? Pack your bag, 'cause you're to spend the night with your father." She stroked his cheek, smiling a little at the disbelief on his face. "Don't worry about me. I'm sure I will find someone who's willing to ride with me back home. Now, listen: I can only give you my side of the story, and... It couldn't have been easy, living with me. I-"

"Mom..." He cut in, reluctant to hear her blaming herself.

She never did that before. Not when it came to his father. She had always blamed him and and him alone, for their failed marriage. She had never really tried to turn her son against her husband, but she hadn't tried to smooth things over between them either.

Martino had always thought that reaching out to him, trying to save whatever was left of their father-son bond, would be read as utter betrayal by his mother. Until then.

"I can't tell you why he gave up on me, but I know that he tried his best for a really long time. You should talk to him. Hear what he has to say. Let him help you." She kissed his forehead, and handed him a ticket to Rome.

He got his phone out to call his dad and arrange their dinner together - no way he was going to spend the night in that house - when he saw a new message in his inbox. He rolled his eyes, sighing, telling himself that it could have been from Filippo. He hadn't replied to him, or to anyone really, ever since he got on the train to Cecina.

He couldn't bring himself to, without sounding like a coward that took the easy way out. Much like his father did. He'd rather pretend they never went on that short holiday together, that he hadn't seen Nico in the last ten days. It was much simpler.

Ni: Did you take those riding lessons, in the end? I'm at the bioparco atm but they won't let me borrow their giraffe. Guess I'll have to find something else for us to ride on.

Fuck. Why did he have to go and rub salt into his wounds? Thankfully, Martino had run out of tears to cry or he would have broken down right there, on platform 2. His fingers lingered on the keyboard, but before he could type in an answer he got another text.

Ni: I'm sorry I keep letting you down. You deserve better.

No. Okay. Niccolò should have been honest from the start, it would have saved them both a lot of heartached... but fear can make you behave like a jerk or an idiot. Marti had never been mad at him for that - scared and confused, of course, but never resentful - and he sure didn't feel like Niccolò had let him down by not giving him full disclosure so soon into their relationship. They had to talk, face to face, as soon as possible. He couldn't have him thinking he is a disappointment.

'Tomorrow. I'll call him first thing tomorrow. Or I'll just show up and ring the buzzer. I know where he lives. He thought, closing the conversation to for his dad number. He wasn't too keen on waiting so long, but he feared what Niccolò's parents might think if he showed on their doorstep so late in the evening. He was already threading on thin ice with them, after what happened on that fucking weekend...

                                    /////////////////////////////////////////////

So here he is, basking in the Christmas spirit of a ten year old and his mother.

Paola isn't half bad, after all, especially when she teases his dead for being grumpier and grumpier as the 25th draws nearer.

Martino isn't much of a fan of this particular holiday himself, but it did have its charm when he pictured himself giving his present to Niccolò - nothing really, just a guide on how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world - and then kissing him under the mistletoe... sitting on the sofa as they spiced their hot chocolate with some tabasco...

God, he misses him so much. Can he really wait until tomorrow to see him again? He can't and he's a fool for having believed otherwise.

'We need to talk. Alone. Tell where and I'll walk through the whole city to get to you.' He types in, and sends it without second guessing how harsh might have sounded without even adding a heart or at least a smiley face.

He must have given something away, because suddenly Paola is asking her son to help her with the dishes, leaving Martino alone with father.

"So... You wanna tell me what has been bothering you all night?"

Martino could get defensive and say "Nothing." or yell "So you give a fuck about me, NOW?" Nevertheless, he does appreciate his dad being straightforward and not making this awkward with a poor attempt at small talk.

"It's this guy I'm seeing..." He waits for the ball to drop, for his father to be either outraged with the news or not caring enough to react to it. He doesn't know what would be worse.

"Your boyfriend?" He asks, and Martino is totally taken aback by the sheer annoyance in his voice. Not at him dating a boy, but rather at this boy daring to string his son along. How dares he!

"Dad!" He tilts his head to the side, smiling. "Yes. I guess... I mean... He was, for a while, but now... I don't know."

He's trying to work up the courage to steer the conversation towards what happened last year, what made him decide he was done trying to be there for the woman he married... It's not easy; he actually dreads the answer. What if he's going to say something like "Well, when people aren't right in their head there's nothing you can do about it apart from trying to spend as little time with them as possible. You gotta put yourself first, or they're going to drag you down with them." That's not what he wants to hear.

"Is that him?" His father snaps him out of his thoughts, making him notice that he just got an answer from Niccolò.

Ni:

Marti, I'm sitting here... Where we met for the first time, thinking about you. It's nearly 22:46. That's when we left that awful Halloween party, remember? There's so much I want to tell you. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry for not telling you I was bipolar. I was so afraid of losing you that I forgot you can't really lose someone, because we are all alone in the end. If I hadn't pulled at the red thread so hard, breaking it, maybe we could have really faced the end of the world together. But if someone has to be the last man on Earth, I want it to be you. It has to be you.

I love you.

Ni

He reads it once, twice, trying not to tear up or panic. He does well with the first, not so much with the second. What... Why does it sound like a farewell note? Maybe because it is? But Ni is not... He would never... He wouldn't.

"Marti?" Oh. So he hasn't been swallowed by a black hole. He could swear he did. His father is offering some small comfort, now, squeezing his shoulder and looking into his eyes as he tries to work out what had him so terrified.

"No, it's not him." He mumbles, evasively. He doesn't have it in him to give his dad the whole picture. It would take too long, and every second counts when Ni might be thinking of... God. Why is he still here?

"It's Giovanni. He needs me, now." It's not really fair to involve Gio in this, but he is the one friend that makes his lie believable. It doesn't need to be a matter of life and death for him to drop everything and go: his father has known that ever since he first brought his best friend home when they were six.

"I have to go, I'm sorry."

                             /////////////////////////////////////////////

As he pretty much runs to the nearest bus stop, he curses himself for not asking his father the money for a taxi.

He tries to call Nico, but of course it keeps on ringing until it goes to voicemail. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Fuck his old ass phone, for not letting Martino send Ni a ten minute voice message in which he could either reassure him that he hadn't lost him or yell at him for sending such an idiotic message. Maybe both. Both are good.

Fuck the night buses, for taking forever to show up and even longer to get near his school. That's where Niccolò is, no doubt about that. He watches Chicco Rodi's tutorial on how to break into the building - which he saved on his phone, thank God - unable to keep waiting for Nico to call him back. When it ends, he is still nowhere near is destination. He might as well try sending him a text. He might be willing to read what Martino has to say, even if he doesn't want to listen.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean, Ni? You're spook- No, that would make him feel even worse. Try again.

You didn't lose me. I'm still yo- That's not too bad, but why would Nico believe him when let himself be fooled by Maddalena into thinking Ni would be better off without him? Hadn't he hated when Niccolò had made the same assumption, after Martino said all that shit about his mother?

He would if he could hear the seriousness in his voice, of course, but on a screen... It wouldn't work.

I'm on the night bus. I'm nearly there. Please, don't do anything stupid. Apart from me. This is slightly better. It's not the time for self-deprecating jokes, though, is it?

Wait for me, Ni.

He's crying now, so angry at himself for not finding the right words when Niccolò needs him the most. Martino is the one who keeps letting him down.

He's half tempted to throw his fucking phone - useless piece of junk - from the nearest window. To fight anyone on this bus. To kick a door open and get off. He nearly misses his stop, yelling "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" to some guy that has been staring at him since he got on.

He's at the end of his tether, he is well aware of that. He can't afford being unable to think straight, however. He slaps himself with two hands, hard enough to regain some mental clarity. Watching the tutorial was actually useless, since both the gate and the front door were left ajar, but that's okay.

He is a bit relieved, indeed, that Nico hasn't locked himself inside.

'm sitting here... Where we met for the first time'   In the radio booth, then.

He slams the door open, but Nico isn't there. Martino immediately sends a text, asking where the hell is he. Did he mean "where we were first introduce to one another" but rephrased it to stay within the character limit?

"FUCK!!! I SWEAR TO GOD, NI, IF YOU WENT UP TO THE TERRACE..." He shouts to the empty corridors, as he briskly walks to the stairs. In his haste to get to the roof, he nearly trips twice on the steps.

It takes some work, and a twisted ankle, but it does manage to kick the flimsy gate down. He then proceeds to break down the heavy door with his shoulder - yeah, he should have totally asked Ni what other way he had found to get to the terrace, when he had the chance... Not that being accused of vandalism isn't a risk worth taking.

Having heard all the commotion, NIccolò stands up. It takes an enormous amount of effort to do that, when he feels so sluggish and tired. He doesn't have to raise his head to know who it is. It can only be him... but why? Why did he bother? Is he here to tell him that they cannot break up over text? He did say they needed to talk.

"FUCK IT, NI, YOU'RE NOT ALONE!" Martino cries out, instead.

His voice sounds so raw, and broken, that Nico can't help but back away from him. He ended up hurting Martino, once again. He should go. Then, in a matter of seconds, he finds himself stuck in a bone crushing hug.

"Don't ever say that again. Don't even think about it. The last men on Earth has got to be us. Together. I won't have it any other way. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay, okay? " Martino is rambling now, digging his nails into Niccolò's shoulder blades and sniffling against his neck. He breaths in, deeply, feeling weak in the knees now the adrenaline rush is over. He needs to calm down if he wants his words to get through to Niccolò.

He sighs, kissing his lips to reassure himself that his boyfriend is here for real, in his arms. Alive.

"Whenever you feel lonely, tell me. You are not alone, Niccolò. You will never be. I won't allow it. You always, always, got me." *************************************************** A/N: So, what aboiut a 'minute by minute' epilogue with Martino asking for his mom's help rather than Maddalena's? We'll see if inspiration strikes...Anyway, I hate myself enough that I also want to write this Italian because "Te dimmi dove sei che mi faccio tutta Roma a piedi." and "COL CAZZO CHE SEI SOLO, NI" have totally another vibe from what I used in English :P Also, I know in the og it was Magnus that said that Even couldn't have been having a manic episode 24/7, but I wanted to change it a little... And.. What else? Oh yeah: do you really want me to believe that Martino keeps him under his full name in his phone ;D ? AFTER TONIGHT ?? He's just a step away from having under "Amò" (short for 'love')... For Nico's text I used this as an ispiration, but I didn't want to be too specific with the location: https://twitter.com/concertiallalba/status/1058386950770561026

[empvrecity]

🎧

[deep sigh] Okay, fuck. Captains log...I guess this could be considered number one, yeah? It's the first ramble that's been done for you so, I suppose. Anyways, here it is. April 2nd, 2015. Abby Whitmore, unfiltered, uncut, just extensive word vomit in hopes that I say what I want you to hear. No perfectly scripted speeches, no dramatics, none of the bullshit. Just me. This'll get ugly. This will probably get long. Sorry in advance, it's just...fuck. Tomorrow's gonna be shit. I'm so damn scared. There is no way this'll go well, but I'm hoping maybe, just maybe, you'll think I'm worth working it out. We're worth working it out. [scoff/sad laugh] 'He that lives upon hope will die fasting.' That's Benjamin Franklin. But then what do we have in life if not hope? Not a quote. That one's me. That one little flicker of hope inside of me is what's going to keep me going through the night. It will put me on my feet in the morning, and it will walk me to your place. The rest is up to me.

Ideally, this conversation wouldn't be necessary. Ideally, the mistake...atrocity I committed wouldn't exist. Ideally, we could carry on as we always have until the day we stop breathing. Ideally, ideally, ideally. But yeah. Life never really goes the way you want it to, does it? So tomorrow, I'm gonna tell you that I did one of the things I didn't think I would ever be capable of. The fact that it happened anyways terrifies me. I feel like I can't trust myself anymore, and that's going to fuck me up for awhile. Hell, it already is fucking me up. But thinking about facing that distrust alone, without you [voice cracks]...shit. It's going to break me. It's going to break me, and I'll have to accept that because this was my doing and no one else's. Not some guy. Not any kind of alcohol. Not even this fucking bipolar bullshit. Me, and me alone. Were I a more mentally stable person, would I have done it? Probably not, but I should have a fucking handle on this. Some fucking control. [pause]  I'm scared of myself and what I might do [sniffs] and I need you by my side. You're going to be mad and you have every right to be, but now more than ever I need you to stand by me. We can fix this. Please, please, please... [shaky breathing sounds and a cut]

Ugh, okay. I said uncut, but that would have been a solid three minutes there of me just making really embarrassing noises. I promise you didn't miss much. I want you to know that I won't hold it against you if you choose to leave. It will tear me apart, and I may be angry for some time, but that's on me. You have been so, so good to me, Dev. You are good and special and unique and you deserve so much. If that isn't with me...Fuck. If that isn't with me, then I hope it's someone who is able to appreciate your fucking awful jokes just as much as your beautiful heart and not take either for granted. [sniffles] Thinking about a future without you...it scares me. You've been there for me when no one else has, you saw the good in me and decided I was worth sticking around through all of the messy shit for, and I might have tossed that gift for one night.

I suppose I should talk about that one night, yeah? I'll spare the details, mostly because I don't remember them. I do remember that I was definitely very inebriated, and I remember that I definitely slept with someone that wasn't you. [long breath] I hate that. I hate saying that. It makes me feel so god damn dirty and vile. I regret it. I so regret it. Shit, I regretted it as it was happening. I don't remember the thought process behind it, I just...it was all happening so quickly and I was very much, um, up...high...manic...whatever, so I let it happen. I wanted it to happen. I'm not going to pretend I didn't. It was more so a want for satisfaction, though, not a want for this specific guy or any sort of connection with anyone. You know how it is for me. I get an urge, and typically I can solve it through appropriate means but I just...I didn't think. And god, I was so fucking drunk. I need to stop drinking, at least until I can figure this shit out and stop being such a damn mess. God, even as I'm talking about it now I feel sick. I hate it, I hate it, I hate myself. All I want is to change who I am [muffled] but I'm stuck with me. You aren't. Maybe getting away from me is what's best for you. Fuck.

[honestly let’s be real the fact that she’s now crying becomes more and more apparent throughout this last bit] I don't know that this is something I'll be able to come back from. I truly hope you never find yourself in a situation where you can't even trust your own actions. It's fucking terrifying. Even sitting here now, a completely clear mind, I'm scared. You have been my rock. Genuinely the best thing to ever happen to me. I'm more uncertain about life than I ever have been, and the fact that your solace isn't guaranteed at this point is breaking me. I keep stopping my worry and assuring myself that you will stand by me through this, even if we need a break as Dev and Abby the couple, and I really hope I don't have that wrong. I need to not have that wrong. But if this does end up being goodbye, know that whatever I say tomorrow, if I say anything tomorrow, doesn't even begin to cover all that you mean. I love you more than I have loved anything, which is fucked. But god, to have gotten to love and be loved by such a beautiful, intelligent, and kind person has been the greatest privilege. You have helped me see the good in all things, including myself, and I can't thank you enough for that. With you, I became better than I once was. That's fucking huge. Thank you for all of it. [sniffs] I'm getting really gross and weepy now, so I think I'm going to be done talking so I can lay down and let my non-word feelings out. I love you. Always will....over and out.

Abby took a deep, shaking breath in before hitting the button to stop the recording. There was nothing left to say. She threaded her hands into her hair, forehead propped on sweaty palms. Her entire body shook, wracked by silent sobs. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but when she finally lifted her head, the mindless yet impassioned doodles on the insert muddled by tears, her face wet with the same. A sigh to collect herself, and she picked the pen back up, writing one word over the drawings in her signature long, loping cursive.

eulogie.

[captainjackfuckingbarakat-blog]

So I’m working on an Ian/Mickey fic, but refuse to post it, until I’ve got a rough draft completed. Now, I’m not very far in it right now, but with college right now, motivation dwindles. So, I thought I’d post a snippet (ok, not exactly a snippet, it’s a few thousand words long...), and hopefully get some feedback on it.

Enjoy!

Felicia’s hand was flung in front of her, the diamond on her finger glinting with the sunlight beaming through the window and reflecting off it. Ian dug into the depths of his memory, for any recollection of a boyfriend, but he found none. He’d known the fiery auburn haired girl for three years – their first meeting definitely left them a story to tell. Despite the length of their friendship, Ian could only remember Felicia single, even last night she’d been eagerly grinding against some guy. “Oi, don’t be thinking too hard there.” She spoke with a thick British accent; she’d only moved to the states three years ago, shortly before meeting Ian, and she did nothing to cover her origins.

           “You’re just telling me about this now!” Ian seized her left hand, eyes glazing over the rock that took up half of her finger. Felicia had been a mysterious woman from the beginning, and had no problem constantly throwing him for a loop – like the ex-boyfriend she’d left behind with their infant daughter when she was 18.

           “He only proposed this morning. Sorry I decided to have celebratory sex with my fiancé to tell your sorry ass.” Felicia yanked back her hand, flashing one more adoring smile at her ring finger before shoving it into the pocket of her black romper. “Oh come on, I’ve told you about Mickey, dark and handsome. Haven’t I?” Felicia threw a gob smacked hand to her forehead and her face flushed. “Ey Ian, forgot to tell you, there’s this bloke I’ve been seein.”

           “Well jeez Felicia, surprised you didn’t wait until I was walking you down the aisle.” Ian had always been one to tell her about his latest fling, however he’s pretty sure she stopped paying attention at guy number 5, and that had only been a month in. He used to believe every guy would be the one, but after a harsh break up with a guy he’d dated for a year, he jumped off that train.

           “Who says you’re givin me away?” She put on a serious face, arms crossing across her chest in dismay, but they both knew that unless she was having the wedding in London, Ian was the only one that fit the job. Felicia’s mom had passed years ago, and her dad was barely hanging on since then, cancer eating away at his lungs. Her only brother stuck around to care for their father, while she’d run away at 16, and only went back for her mother’s funeral – he hated her. “I wanted to wait till it got serious. It got serious, then I forgot.”

           “Probably a few too many lines of coke. I told you that shit isn’t good for you.” Ian tutted his best friend – she was a party girl, but Ian figured out how to maneuver around it. He always let her do her thing, and did a good job at standing up to peer pressure. He had a lot more restraint than his older brother Lip, who was 24 and already a raging alcoholic. Ian was past his party days, and had enough on his plate these days without the booze and drugs plaguing him.

           “Good thing my fiancé don’t care how dumb I am. He loves me regardless.” Felicia flashed her ring again, if only so she could stare longingly at it, as if the man who’d given it to her would appear upon her wishes. “Tomorrow,” she pointed adamantly at Ian. “You’re taking me out for a celebratory drink.”

           “It’ll have to be an early drink. I go in at five, won’t be off until well after midnight.” Ian’s work hours were shit, and the job mundane. He crossed his arms all night as he worked as an intimidation technique at the fairytale, a gay club in Boys town. That’s how he’d met Felicia, a rowdy patron who was way too drunk, and he hadn’t taken a single step up the latter in three years. At least he still have a steady flow of cock, his one remaining vice – he’d even given up cigarettes along the way, allowing his lungs a break from nicotine and weed.

           “Pick me up at two for an afternoon cocktail.” Felicia shook his hand as if that were normal behavior – what, were they setting up some sort of business deal – the two friends had been more of huggers. “Tonight, it’s back to my fiancé, so you’ll have to party hard without me.” For Ian, that meant one beer in the privacy of his crappy apartment in the heart of Chicago, streaming Netflix through the night.

~

           “So, you have got to tell me about this guy.” They had been at the bar for all but ten minutes, with Felicia trying to distract him with crazy coworker stories – she worked reception at a law firm. The girl was already sipping her way through her second glass of whiskey, while Ian had taken a few sips from his Coca-Cola. The bartender had given him a dirty look when he turned down even a beer with minimal alcohol content. He was ready to find it a maddening bar like in the movie Coyote Ugly that would spray him down with water for his choice. “Come on, what’s his name again?”

           “Mickey,” Felicia said with a slap on his shoulder. “He’s the one.” She had always claimed not to believe in love, always cynical about the future, which likely explained why she’d kept this quiet. Boyfriends had only fucked her over in the past. “He’s fucking short, only an inch taller than me, but he never complains when I wear heals. He’s got these stupid tattoos on his knuckles, but somehow I find them endearing.” She went on, and Ian admired the look of love glowing from his best friend. He used to dream about something like that for himself, before he learned that no one would really care about a lunatic. He thought he’s had it with Jacob, but a year into their relationships, and Ian’s meds went haywire, and he was committed for a week. He returned to an empty apartment.

           “I think I’ll ask his sister Mandy to be my Maid of Honor. She’s a kickin girl. Maybe you can be a bridesmaid! We’ll deck you out in a pink frilly dress.” Ian rolled his eyes, because no matter how gay he was, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. “We’ll make you look so good, Mickey might even take his eyes off me and find you so attractive he leaves me at the altar.”

           Ian waved his hands in refusal. “I don’t want your straight fiancés affection.” There were enough guys that wanted to fuck him not dressed as a girl. He didn’t need to dress in drag to attract men’s attention – oddly enough, gay guys still seemed to dig that.

           “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s got a great cock. He’d tear your ass apart.”

           “Oh come on, I don’t need to hear about your sex life. Now I’ll be staring at his dick when I meet him.” They both knew that Ian was a top, not gold star, he’d fucked around more than he wanted to admit sometimes, but straight cock in his ass was repulsive. For all the guys Felicia never told him about, Ian told her in gory detail about the guys he’d fucked – she was the only person he ran to when he bottomed for the first time without getting paid for it. She always drowned him out with alcohol.

           “Who ways you’re meetin him? You ain’t even invited to the wedding Ian Gallagher.” Felicia waved to the bartender for a refill on both of their drinks, even though he wasn’t quite halfway through his soda. “Fine!” She cried as if Ian had been begging her for the last second of silence. “You can meet him. But no acting all high and mighty just cause you can attract classier guys than me.” This fiancé of hers was Southside, one of the few things he managed to catch while absently watching her lips move. Ian had been born and raised in the Southside of Chicago, but ran and didn’t look back much after he joined the military at 18 – even if that hadn’t worked out for him.

           “Oh come on. That’s a low blow. Just because I hate my family doesn’t mean everyone from the neighborhood is like them.” Ian was 23, not some baby that didn’t understand how the world worked. He had his qualms with his family, but kept it between them. Felicia knew as little as he could get away with telling her about the other five Gallagher kids, and the only thing she knew about the deadbeat parents, was that Monica was dead. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.” He better have been good to Felicia, because she never deserved an asshole for a husband.

           “I’ll set something up when he ain’t working. He works construction; it’s fucking shitty, but as least he makes money.” Ian understood; before he’d gotten the job as a bouncer, he’d sifted through some pathetic jobs that paid the bills, and allowed him to live as far away from his siblings as he could. He hadn’t wanted to chance running into them after he’d left for good when he was 19, upon his diagnosis of bipolar disorder. They looked at him the way they looked at their mom – he was fucking insane.

           “Mickey will hate you. He thinks straight edge guys like you are pussies. Guess he’s not exactly wrong, with you at least.” Felicia knew better than that. Ian had a lot of demons that followed him, but mostly his mental illness; it made him weak in too many ways. It stopped him from partying along with his best friend, and left him home most nights. “We’ll have to get you to help with the wedding, god knows I don’t know shit.”

           “And I do?”

           “Duh, you’re gay.” Ian had never been a stereotypical gay man, but that didn’t make him any less of a fag. He’d never fucking paint his nails, or where make up. Ian would rather spend a day bulking up at the gym; all this after hiding his sexuality for a good chunk of his life. In the Southside, with all the uneducated bigots, racists, and homophobes, it was a death sentence for a gay man to even walk down the street.

           “Hey, shut your face. You’re on your own with the wedding. I’m just showing up to make sure you don’t trip on your dress. Wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself on your wedding day, in front of your husband to be.” Ian finally managed to finish off his coke and put down money for both of their drinks. “Good talk. Can’t wait to meet the guy that puts that smile on your face.” He hugged her tightly as a formal goodbye, and headed out into the burning Chicago cold, and his beat up red Ford that barely ran anymore.

~

~

~

           Felicia and Ian hid together in a dimly lit corner booth, both drinking a beer, albeit Ian was a lot more cautious with his beverage. The brit had insisted they go to a steakhouse, and fill up on a twenty-five ounce steak, and one of each of the deserts for the three of them to split. The best friends saved eating out for special occasions, so that when they did, their bill was well over one hundred dollars, accompanied with a twenty dollar tip. It was just like when he was a kid, and Fiona would run into a bit of extra cash – usually they stuck with buffets. The restaurant was far from fancy, but it was their go-to place, and a couple waitresses recognized them – they only went about four times a year, but they’d been doing so for three years now, and the staff seemed pretty consistent. The booth they sat in was busting apart at the seams, and Ian pressed himself to the wall to avoid sitting on the slash across the middle of his side.

           “So, is Mickey just imaginary?” Ian pointed to the empty spot beside Felicia, and the third, unmoved menu. They’d waited an hour, and his best friend insisted they wait to order, because he promised he’d come, and Felicia still had faith in him. So Ian filled up on the bread the waitress kept bringing buy, and finally ordered himself something other than water. He’d done his best at attempting to not point out Mickey’s obvious tardiness, how bad of an impression Ian was getting of the guy.

           “He’s jus’ runnin’ late. He’ll come!” She was adamant about it, and Ian had no choice but to shut up and sit back with his nearly wasted friend. Felicia was moping, but refused to lose hope on her fiancé, and ordered herself another drink every time the waitress came back. There was a full glass of beer at the seat beside her that she’d ordered along with her first drink, but she left it, because he was fucking coming. Felicia pulled out her phone as her mope broke out into a fattening grin. “He’s jus’ parked. I told ya ‘e was comin’.” He was glad to be wrong.

           Ian hadn’t even seen a picture of the guy, so he hadn’t realized it was Mickey headed their way, until he slid in beside Felicia. His arm fell over her shoulder, and Ian recognized the knuckle tattoos, the only physical attribute she’d given him – this hand read fuck. Their lips slotted together in a brief greeting, and Felicia followed it with a hard punch to the shoulder. “That’s for bein’ late dickhead.”

           “Fucking bitch.” There was a small amount of scruff on Mickey’s chin, and his mop of hair was black, with a hint of something lighter there, and those eyes were a stunning shade of blue – Felicia’s dreamy talk hadn’t done them justice. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly and ran his thumb over her cheek. He spared a glance across the table to Ian, directing his apology to the both of them. Mickey kept his right arm securely around Felicia’s shoulders, but reached his left out for Ian to shake. U-Up was scrawled across the four fingers in the same unsteady spray of unprofessional ink. “You must be Ian. This one talks about you a lot.”

           The handshake was strong, but not threatening, like he’d gotten from other guys when he’d befriended their girlfriends – if Ian was straight, he wouldn’t have a hard time stealing someone’s girl, the amount of times he’d gotten punched assure that. “You’re Mickey,” the redhead pointed out. “Can’t say I knew much about you before, but she’s talked non-stop these last few weeks.”

           “I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me meet you. So, what is it? You don’t seem like someone she should be hiding.” Mickey didn’t say a word when he picked up the lukewarm beer, and finished it in a few long gulps, slamming it harshly back to the table and motioning his finger at someone walking by for another. Pothole duty must have really done a number on him. “I thought my family was crazy, but this girl’s just as batshit insane.”

           They put their orders in five minutes later, and another round of bread was brought around to their table. Ian laid off this time, but Mickey was quick to slather butter on a slice and shoved it down. “This bitch packed me an apple for lunch, can you believe that. How is that supposed to stop my stomach rumbling while I pour concrete into holes? I’d get it if she was a health nut, but an apple is like two fucking calories and no protein.”

           “If you wanted a cook, you shouldn’t be marrying her.” Felicia had tried to make Ian a can of soup one time when he was low – she hadn’t realized that it was a lot different than the flu at the time. She got him moving pretty quickly when his microwave exploded, and she’d tried to heat it up, can and all. “She’s also a slob. Glad it’s you she’d marrying and not me.”

           “Doesn’t sound like you swing that way anyways.” Felicia had always mouthed off about how much a fag Ian was, which usually led to her attempting to set Ian up on dates. He wondered if Mickey had almost been the culprit of the setup, before she realized he was straight and falling head over heels for her. “Must’ve been hard. Southside ain’t the breeding ground for pride parades.” Ian wondered what had been done right for someone that was so obviously dragged deeply into the drugs and violence of that neighborhood, to turn into a guy that could casually sit across from Ian. He still didn’t feel safe walking in his own neighborhood without a knife in his pocket – everyone knew that the redheaded Gallagher was batshit crazy and gay, because the drunks liked to talk.

           “Did you get out?” Ian wasn’t doing much better than his siblings, but he could at least say he managed to move a few blocks away, and officially out of the Southside, even if his roots were still bred in his bones. He avoided that old rickety house on North Wallace, and the memories that dragged with it. The last time he’d gone home was when their mom died, otherwise he made everyone come to him.

           “Kind of. Spend a lot of time back there. My sister’s still there, with our older brother, but I don’t really live there.” Ian recognized the pain their upbringing instilled on everyone, and they could easily swap war stories. They could decide whose parents were worse – he knew Frank and Monica were tame compared to others, even with both of them fucking off all the time, the drugs, and the bruises Frank occasionally gave Ian. “Of course, this girl had her life set with a rich daddy in London.”

           “My father’s money doesn’t say shit about me,” Felicia quipped – she’d never gotten a penny. Each person at the booth was equally broke, despite her background. Felicia had ran off at sixteen, and had only seen her father a handful of times since. “In fact, thing we might have to dine and dash.” They’d done it once, but Ian had felt so guilty, that he’d gone back and left a hundred dollar bill on the hosts’ podium, because he’d had the money to pay. It was a lot different from when he was ten, and Frank and Monica took the five kids they had at the time to some fancy restaurant. Their mom had just come back, after she’d left five years ago, and the group of them obviously didn’t belong – should’ve been kicked out right away for their appearance, because they were definitely too poor to afford it. Frank had ushered him, Lip, and their five year old brother Carl through a window in the men’s restroom.

           “Need I remind you, the cops hate me enough,” Mickey announced, easily dismissing Felicia’s possibly serious idea. “Southside, man. The Milkovich name is akin for trouble.” The last named sparked familiarity in Ian, not that he remember any of them, except maybe the father.

           “Any relation to, uh…Jerry?”

           “Terry,” Mickey nodded. “Afraid to say I’m his blood. I’m his son.” Ian didn’t remember much about the guy, but Ian had seen him hanging around the Alibi, and Frank slurred about plenty of their fights, Monica might have fucked him too. Kev told horror stories about the different shenanigans the Milkovich patrons had gotten into, none of them the innocent childish type.

           “Seem like a handful,” Ian nodded in sympathy, but didn’t spill into the dramatics about their asshole fathers. Frank was a pathetic drunk that left his oldest daughter to raise five kids, and Ian would never forgive him. Even if Ian had found out that his biological father was one of Frank’s brothers, rich and everything, the real dream for anyone that grew up like them. Ian had learned of this when he was fifteen, and much to Lip’s dismay, he refused to confront his father, because he already had his family. Ian Gallagher was never one to take the easy way out. “So, you were unlucky enough to fall for Felicia,” Ian commented with a breathy chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

           “Couldn’t ask for a better girl to spend my life with.” Mickey’s right arm had still been comfortably around Felicia’s shoulders, and he squeezed her close as he gushed about her. “I’ve lived with a girl like this one all my life. Guess it was just a test run, so I was ready for the real thing.” Mickey seemed genuinely happy, and it shown in the way his smile sparkled in those ocean blue eyes, and his face split as he let out gentle laughs. Everything told Ian that that was the kind of relationship he’d been dreaming of since he’d understood what it meant to be in love. He was glad Felicia was getting her fairytale ending.

           The arrival of the food halted conversation, as the couple seemed starved. Ian had made the mistake of filling up on the complimentary bread, and instead pushed his food around while participating in the conversation between bites. He laughed along with the jokes, and hung off Mickey’s childhood stories, sharing some stupid comments of his own. Nothing was really serious at the table. Ian knew as soon as Mickey stepped in, the dynamic between them would be changed, and they’d now be a trio. It wasn’t something he was ready to give up.

Ok, if you made it through that, please shoot me a message, or reply to this post. I’m just looking for either reassurance that it’s good, or ways to improve.

[harliquinne]

Why I shouldn't be too upset, why I shouldn't be in love, why I need to move on

Red flags that I should have left the moment it was raised, My ex is: A trump supporter:: I put up with soooooo much political support for such a god damn moron, I cannot believe the things he would say. He actually has one of those hats. Bruh. I am a fool. Homophobic:: when we were dating, I told him I was bisexual. He told me he didn't know if he could handle that, and seeing two people or he same sex made him sick. He also would roll his eyes whenever gay people were represented on tv, media, movies- what have you...saying that everything is trying to rub it our faces. Even though...people are people, everyone should be equally represented...that's a, I don't know, rational, reasonable thought. We would argue over this. I still cannot believe it and I am ashamed that I didn't leave when he said me being bisexual was gross- I literally told him nevermind, I was confused. It was one of the only times I've ever felt legitimately discriminated against. Like truly offensively so. I can't help but blame my mental illness for being so foolish and insecure...the amount of self-hate. Racism:: if you follow my blog, you'll notice I post a lot of poc beauty. Because I love my brothers and sisters, and I think they are of true beauty. I love them. I love their cultures. I love their charm. I love their strength. I love their voices and soul, their spirit. Again, I am ashamed that I stayed...through the whole, oh I have many black friends and I look black and dealt with discrimination for passing...black people are on tv all the time, just like gay people, rubbed in your face, overdone...as if white people are superior and deserve all the coverage. As if white people are the standard and need to stay the standard. As if it's wrong that they are equally represented in media. I am so ashamed...so ashamed that I kept that kind of person in my life, for all I stand for and love and believe. For all the strong black women that I look up to and reach for guidance and advice on how to be strong and respect myself enough to live through my struggles. I cannot believe that I was with a man that had so many radical views. He would say, we agree socially Politically...let me tell you how false that is. Even though I stayed, I'd always argue my beliefs and views, how wrong and fucked his words are...he would argue back and act like I didn't understand what he was saying. I'd give in, and tell myself we didn't have to agree on these things in order to be in love. I blinded myself out of desperation to get a feeling of being loved. Drug use:: when I met him, I had no idea. When we started fucking around and somewhat dating, I started hearing about it, he'd mention it. I told him I didn't like that and felt it was unattractive. He never really did it around me...then he face timed me in japan and his nose was all boogery and runny...he was a moron. I hung up. I didn't want to see it. He was almost showing it off, like he was a cool kid. He became more and more of a thing, and eventually I said, if you can't stop em, join em. I had a previous drug problem, so that kind of thing can happen. I loved it of course, the build up I mean...the flow has highs and lows, highs and lows, highs and lows- just like that. The come down to me is exhaustion and misery. Twisted in the head, ashamed, irritated. I started doing It with them, staying up til noon, drinking cuz it didn't make me spinny. I started to ask him to stop, I didn't want to be around it, it made me upset, it made m uncomfortable, it made me all around not happy and I didn't want him to do it either because it's not a good thing, it can be dangerous and he could get addicted. I was a fool. It has caused the most problems of all. He'd get so mean. He'd tell me to get my shit and leave. Get out. I don't care. I don't want you in my life. I will call the police. All I was doing was asking him to stop. I just asked him to no longer do it. I'd start to freak out and get emotional because he meant a lot to me... I put up with that. I put up with so much of that. I was a complete fool. I felt so desperate for love and I believe he really did love me. Treatment:: he never took me on dates. We'd go to restaurants sometimes...he took me out on my birthday. But we didn't even do activities together is what I'm saying. We didn't do anything. He said he had no money. He said he never bought the Coke, which is such a lie. He always wanted to party on the weekends instead. He would party and promise me we would do something the next day, but the next day he'd still be fucked up- so why would I want to do that. He never ate me out, which is a HUGE fuck no but I am sad so dealt with that. We didn't have sex as much as I wanted, once/twice a week. HUGE fuck that as well, I'm super sexual and kinky- I don't play that vanilla little basic ass white couple shit. He talked to me with a venomous voice, like I always misunderstood, like I was stupid, like I was wrong, condescending, rude, just flat out mean. He'd react to things I said like my voice was nails on a chalkboard. I know he loved me, he has shown me in his ways(he has an anger problem for sure, he needs to talk to someone but feels that his mental state is top of our breed)...but fuck. I didn't do anything wrong...he was just frustrated with my struggle in mental health as at the time, I wasn't being treated and I was also still misdiagnosed with Bipolar disorder. He didn't care about anxiety or anything like that, he believed that it was something that could be controlled and that weak people just need to focus and get their shit together. Meanwhile, I was having an attack. He leaves the room and does his own thing...annoyed that I pulled him from his socializing. He only thought about himself. He had no empathy even for those he loves. It's all about him and his happiness. I was nothing...even though he told me all of the time that was all in my head and my problem, not his. He told me, nobody has ever given you tough love- I'm here to give it to you. I'm such a fool, such a fool. I'm a complete fool. Even now, I am sad. I am so sad. I am so anxious. I have that terrible, terrible feeling in my chest. The tangled string, the tar, and the cotton surrounding the emptiness. I feel so let down. I feel wasted. I feel pretty fucking terrible. I shouldn't. I deserve better and I can do better, but fuck If this doesn't hurt like a Bitch. He doesn't even care, this person I believe loved me...I can't believe I did think he loved me. I am such a fool. I am so ashamed but so sad. So many red flags and they are still standing, but here I am, the one suffering. I left him. Why am I the one grieving? He isn't even a good person. He might be successful one day and I might think he is sexy as fuck with his dark skin and dark eyes and hair and his perfect ass...but he is wasn't good to me, he didn't care like I did, he didn't care...he didn't fucking care. Please, let me be alive again tomorrow...please let me rise back up and be the queen I am. Please let me open my eyes again and see what this man is, the truth...please set me free from these chains... I hate him. Please let it feel like I do. Please.

[greekowl87]

False Flags - Ghost Ship 6/?

A/N: I know this isn’t my most popular work but it is one close to my heart that I continue to work on even when real life and chaos reign supreme. I thank you for anyone who still takes a moment to read it and/or supports this endeavor. Finally got chapter six done. Chapter seven is underway and being formulated.

For those that need to catch up...The First Fic: (False Flags Redux) | Ghost Ship: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) or if AO3 is your thing, you’ve got your choices. Sorry for any grammar or issues of that nature. No beta, I suck at editing on the computer, and Grammarly only does so much. I still hope you enjoy it. Tagging: @today-in-fic, @improlificinsarcasm,  @baronessblixen, and @suitablyaggrieved

Buckley sat by the window of the hotel room carelessly spinning an unloaded Colt 1911 on the small table the motel staff had placed in the double room. Across the room, Alex Krychek groaned in annoyance and turned up the volume on the television with his one good arm. Buckley snorted and continued to spin the pistol. “Will you stop that!” Krychek shouted angrily. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“Am I? Good, Alexi.”

“Stop calling me that! I don’t know what the old man sees in you. Enlisting your help a second time? You screwed up and got caught last time.”

“And I got shot by Mulder too but the tip came from an anonymous informant. Besides, shouldn’t you be doing something useful. Like getting us dinner or something.”

Krychek shuddered. “And I lost a goddamn arm thanks to Mulder and I’m not complaining. God, don’t you ever shut up? I’m not your servant so stop bothering me. I’m not supposed to let you out of myself or else god forbid you to go rogue.”

“Why worry?”

“I’ve seen your work,” Krycek huffed. He thought about the file folder and the gruesome pictures he had seen. It reminded him of Jack the Ripper, especially when Mulder and Scully had caught him during his last crime spree. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I used to be a gangster from the 1920s.” He replied. His voice took on a Chicago accent briefly. 

‘That’s where I learned all that.”

“You really are insane. Bipolar. Order a pizza or something if you’re so damn hungry. The phone book is right there.”

Buckley chuckled and continued to stare on the window, spinning the pistol.

****************

They slept through the night but that didn’t do anything to calm one agent’s nerves. The ocean pounded the sandbars only matched Scully’s racing heart. Mulder sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Scully, you’re pacing,” Mulder quipped from the couch.

“I feel like a prisoner here,” she answered. She looked around at the ocean-inspired theme and shook her head. “It feels irreverent like Arcadia did.”  She crossed her arms and looked at Mulder. “Don’t you feel the same? We can’t leave.”

“I don’t remember anyone saying that. Skinner didn’t say that. We’re free to come and go as we please. It isn’t like Skinner has placed us in protective custody and he’s standing in the corner watching our every move. We have our weapons. We’re trained, federal agents. We’re okay.”

She shook her head in frustration. “I have the worst feeling growing in the back of my mind. He’s closer than they think he is.” She scratched the back of her neck and Mulder got from the couch to catch her hand. “What?”

“It’s not the chip,” he answered quickly. “This isn’t like Ruskin Dam. This isn’t the Syndicate coming after us. This is just old fashioned…” He sighed, unable to find the word. His fingers caressed the back of her neck gently. “It’s just our past coming back to haunt us. Quite literally. In the physical form of a sociopath.”

“You should have killed the bastard when you had the chance,” she replied. Scully relaxed into his touch and closed her eyes. “Might have saved us this headache.”

“You are the better shot between the two of us. Sorry. Couldn’t kill Model, couldn’t kill Buckley even at close range. But you, my kick-ass G-woman can shot a Sig Sauer P-226 with the precision of a surgeon and still take out and heal with the same ability. Maybe I should just give you my own weapon.”

Scully smiled ruefully and leaned into the shoulder she had shot years before. Mulder laughed and held her close. She took a deep breath and looked up to him and said, “I imagined our time down here filled with doing the tourist traps, relaxing with you on the beach, and just having fun.”

“We still can. The Bodie Lighthouse isn’t that far. Neither is Roanoke Island. Let’s go there. Check out the history. Maybe we can solve the case of the missing colony.”

“They’re national parks.”

“And we’re federal agents. We’ll be fine.” He gave her a weak smile. “Let’s do the lighthouse today. We can spend tomorrow on Manteo and have some dinner or something.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s better than seeing you pace back and forth. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “Anything is better than just being stressed.”

“I know you hate flying but are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Have you ever been up in a lighthouse?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Really? Coming from the woman who loves the seas.” Mulder grinned. “You’re going to love it.”

*********************

The FBI partners gathered their weapons and badges to hide them discreetly among their clothes. They grabbed Scully’s purse, locked their beach house, and went down to Mulder’s car. He hated seeing Scully like this and knew that this trip would be just the thing. They made the drive down NC-12 to Cape Hatteras National Park chatting silently with one another. When they arrived at the fork for Cape Hatteras National Park, he took the right back down the highway. After a short distance, he turned left down a small paved road where Bodie Island Lighthouse was. Mulder pulled their car in the small gravel parking lot and smiled at Scully. “Well?”

She leaned forward to look out of the windshield. The black and white striped lighthouse stood off in the distance with the white lightkeeper’s house nearby. “It’s quaint,” she smiled. “Very tucked away. I’d imagine you might be used to up in New England.”

“I’ve seen a few.

“It has a history as well.”

“I bet it does.” 

They climbed out of the car and Mulder was surprised when Scully openly took his hand and led him towards the Lightkeeper’s House, which served as the gift shop and the National Park Service’s Office. As if she had been there before, she knew right where everything was. Mulder became interested in some of the lighthouse knick-knacks as she purchased two tickets to climb the lighthouse. “Got those tickets to the stairway to heaven, Scully?”

“Hahaha,” she smiled. Much to this delight, she took his arm as they ventured back outside to a bench near the lighthouse to wait for the next tour. She guided him to sit with her on the bench overlooking the lighthouse. “I should really purchase a camera for this trip.”

“We can buy a postcard.”

“I’m talking about us.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Why do you have to be difficult?”

“Because I love it when you say, ‘You’re crazy, Mulder.’  Besides, who needs a camera when you have a photographic memory?” He tapped his temple. “All our recent memory making…”

She laughed and it lifted Mulder’s spirit. Despite having a reincarnated her ex-husband murderer who happened to be a serial killer in this life hunting down them while they were on their first vacation as a couple, he was so happy to hear her laughter. She smiled and rested her head against the bicep. She closed her eyes sleepily. “What do you say to about taking a nap in the hammock we have on the deck when we get home?”

“Despite the threat of…”

“Ssshhh. But yes.”

“As long as we pick up dinner along the way. Are you in the mood for seafood?”

“What about some Carolina BBQ?”

“I like you in a vacation mood. Why can’t you be more open to greasy foods when we’re in the field?”

“Vacation. There’s a difference,” she laughed.

Mulder watched a park ranger walk past them, calling, “All those for tickets for the 12:00 lighthouse tour line up behind me.”

“That’s us,” Scully whispered.

“Do you have to be first at everything?”

“I have to remind you who is the boss in this relationship. Tell me, Walking History Textbook, what is special about this lighthouse?”

“I remember,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “trying to blow it up with the retreating troops but I got orders to report to Norfolk instead.”

She chuckled. “Fucking past lives but then again, I have those to thank for my better sex life.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Shut up.” Her eyes opened and she tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“This salt air is doing wonders for your spirit,” he remarked.

“Maybe it’s the company more.”

Mulder smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly. She walked together to the front of the lighthouse where others were lining up in front of a park ranger. The woman park ranger smiled and waved people closer. “Gather around everyone. First, a few rules before we go up. The stairs in this lighthouse aren’t like the ones at Cape Hatteras. Only one person at a time can be on them, going up or going down in either direction. You can have multiple people on the landings,” the park ranger explained. “Now that we have that out of the way, can anyone tell me about the lighthouse?”

The tour group was met with silence as the park ranger started to talk about a mini-history lesson about Congress approving the lighthouse and its history from the Civil War to the present. As the park ranger concluded her mini-speech, she stepped back and motioned for everyone to begin their journey upwards. Mulder and Scully were in the middle of the group and took a moment to take in the moment all around them. Other tourists, the lovely March weather, and Scully in sunglasses smiling and laughing with her arm wrapped through his. It was so nice to see you here relaxed and happy.

“Are you happy?” Mulder whispered to her.

“Yes,” she answered. 

That was all he needed at that moment. He really should have bought a disposable camera to capture this moment. As they climbed the lighthouse in a single file line, he was entranced by the magic of the moment. They paused periodically on each landing, overlooking various aspects of the horizon. The salt marshes and sounds of the Ocean on the other end. The Atlantic on the other side. Scully laughing. Eventually, they reached the top, the wind whipped Scully’s hair.

She gripped the railings of Bodie Lighthouse and leaned over to look at the people below. Mulder’s hand rested lightly on her back and he whispered, “What a view huh?”

“Hey, mister!”

A young kid’s voice caught both of them off guard and as they turned they saw a young boy with a brand new Polaroid camera. He smiled, speaking loudly over the wind. “I’ll take three pictures of you for five bucks.”

“Try three,” Mulder haggled, getting into the spirit.

“Two dollars includes on the spot printing. Memories last forever.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Mom lets me watch a lot of tv. What do you say? Five dollars for three pictures?”

“What do you say, Scully?”

She nodded and smiled. The kid smiled and raised his camera. He took a series of three shots. One of them both overlooking the railing out to the Atlantic sea, second of them together smiling for the camera, and an unscripted kiss that briefly turned passionate, all of which was captured on the kid’s camera. Scully broke away, her cheeks flushed as she smiled. Mulder dug through his jean’s pockets until he produced a crumpled five-dollar bill. He exchanged it as Scully still took the still-developing photos.

Scully waved the photos in the sea air in a vain attempt to get them to develop quicker. She briefly flashed back to when she found that picture of them in the library archives in Newport News months ago from 1863. But there was something else that bloomed up inside of her; pride love, tenderness, devotion. Finally, something to memorialize and immortalize this moment now. She eyed the top image of them kissing with affection. Mulder was saying something before he returned to her.

“How did they turn out?”

“The kid has an eye for photography?” She answered.

They both gripped the photos to keep them from flying away in the sea breeze. “The Gunmen can make copies of these,” he whispered into her ear. “We can put one down into the basement and make Skinner jealous.”

“Or we can keep the copies for ourselves,” she answered. She rested her head against his chest; the sea breeze was in one ear with echoes of eternity from the Atlantic and his heartbeat was steady with promises of the future. “We need to buy a camera.”

“I can agree with that.” They watched the pictures develop on top of the lighthouse as they stood close to each other and as another momentarily in the winds of their entwined existence became immortalized once again on film. Scully felt relaxed and, for once, at peace. “Let me put those pictures in my purse,” she whispered softly.

Mulder gladly obliged and she carefully tucked away their pictures. They stood together, admiring the 360 panorama view that Bodie Lighthouse gave. After a while, they descended the staircase back down to the ground. Scully took his hand in public, unafraid who was watching and dragged Mulder to the gift shop. As he enjoyed the moment of this rare display of public affection, Mulder had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that disappeared when Scully’s lips met his.

********************

Buckley sat in the farthest car from the lighthouse, looking through his binoculars. Krychek sat next to him and asked, “Is it them?”

“Yep,” the other man replied. “Just like I told you.”

********************

Mulder looked at the Polaroids that had been taken at the lighthouse that day. He could only imagine the film on the disposable camera and how wonderful the shots were going to be. He and Scully laughing, posing together as a couple framed by the lighthouse and the Atlantic Ocean. The little kids who had charged them five dollars for the pictures were ruthless but he finally had some proof of their happiness in this life. He contemplated calling upon the Gunmen to use their technological magic to digitize the photos but that would be for another day. He had been relatively low profile with his relationship with Scully over the past three months and he did not want to push it unless she was okay with it.

“Hey, Scully,” he called, “when do you think we should tell your mom?”

“About what, Mulder?”

“Us,” he replied.

From the kitchen island, Scully was curled up on the couch with a blanket watching ‘Dharma and Greg’ and not really paying attention to him. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and twisted to look at him. “What aspect of us?”

“Well,” Mulder began, setting the photos down, “the change in our relationship for starters.”

“Or the IVF?”

“I wasn’t going to go there.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. He set the pictures aside and joined her on the couch. “I’ve just been thinking lately.”

“Well, I feel like there’s been a lot of that going around,” she said. Mulder unfurled her legs and rested her feet in his lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m not really thinking.”

“Or maybe you’re just too busy thinking. Are you thinking about the IVF?”

“I would want to try again if you are willing too.”

“I still want to think about it,” she replied.

He lightly massaged her feet and she hummed in approval. “I can’t believe how sore my feet are from climbing all those stairs.”

“It’s not like you aren’t used to all work. You’re the FBI equivalent of Wonder Women running in high heels.”

“I appreciate the compliant, Mulder, but if you remember, I decided to wear flip-flops that have no support.”

“Well, where else could you get weather nice enough to wear flip flops in March?”

She giggled as he got a particular ticklish area. “Only in Nags Head.”  She nodded to the show that was on. “So, I caught this the first time when I was in San Diego. Have you ever heard of it?”

“What is it?”

“The show’s called ‘Dharma and Greg.’”

“I believe I have,” he said. “Some flower child marries a lawyer and chaos ensues when they decide to marry on the first date. So which one am I? Dharma or Greg?”

“Dharma,” she answered. “But opposites attract and make us better for it. Wouldn’t you agree, Mulder?”

He chuckled. “I might be inclined to. Do you want to keep it on this or find some nature documentary?”

“I like that and this version of Domestic Scully.”

“Did you lock the doors downstairs?”

“Yes,” he answered, “and I triple checked all the locks and windows. The only window that will be open is the one to our bedroom on the third floor.”

“And our weapons?”

“In the bedroom on the nightstands.”

She relaxed and nodded in approval. She withdrew her feet and switched her sitting position. She lounged against Mulder, wrapping his arms securely around her, and they enjoyed the rest of the comedy sitcom. He smiled into her arm and pressed a kiss, solidifying this moment in his memory. Even though there was a psycho that might be trying to kill them, he was the happiest he had been in a long time.

***********************

Mulder and. Scully had retired after television for a few more hours of watching prime time sitcoms. Scully disappeared into their bedroom and he did a quick lap around the beach house to check all their locks. By the time he got back up to their third-floor bedroom, he could hear the water running in the master bathroom.

“Mulder,” Scully called through the partially closed door. “Did you get everything you needed to do done?”

He could hear the partially slurred speech. “Is that wine I smell?” He dare not open the door. While this vacation had stress from fear of a psycho, it was bringing out sides of Scully he had only dreamed of and seen in one other lifetime. “Scully?”

“Hmm.” She giggled. “Maybe. Come join me, Mulder.”

“Where did you get the wine?”

He was already taking off his shirt and Scully’s laughter was causing his blood to boil in anticipation. “I snuck it in our last shopping trip,” she replied. She was giggling again. “Mulder, come on. There are still bubbles.”

Bubbles. “Aw, Scully.”

He pushed the door open slightly and saw her hair clipped back and a coffee mug in her hand. Most of her were covered by the bubbles from the jacuzzi so all that he saw was the one bare leg perched near the faucet. “Scully…” he crooned.

“What? Go grab yourself a coffee mug and bring the bottle with you!” She was smiling. Even though they decided to take their relationship to a new level, this still seemed so uncharacteristic of her. “Come on, Mulder. We’re on vacation.”

“I know we are,” he answered. He chose his next words carefully. “Weren’t you the one earlier who was concerned about our safety?”

“I’m not letting them get to me. Us. I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

“About telling your mom?”

“No. I want to try again when we get back to D.C.”

Mulder smiled and his concerns momentarily forgotten. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to the fridge, grabbed the open bottle, and a coffee mug from the fridge. She was smiling coyly at him. He topped off her coffee mug and shucked his jeans. In one fluid movement, he slid behind her and coiled his arms around her. “It’s a good thing you’re so small,” he teased. He kissed his favorite spot behind her ear. “Or else this w

Scully lounged back into him. “I’ve been dreaming,” she whispered to him softly. She sipped the wine-filled coffee mug. “Don’t worry, it’s not any new past lives or anything.”

“I’m glad?”

She heard the question in his voice. “I am just thinking about this life and the last. Us. What could have been.”

Scully was always amazed how well they just worked together, either spiritually, or as she had discovered lately, physically as well. She sipped her wine. “Now or then,” he asked.

“Then. I still have a hard time believing it was real, Mulder.”

Together, they entwined their hands and caressed her flattened abdomen. He nuzzled her neck and closed his eyes. They both could remember those memories for the early 1860s, the joy of their unborn child, laying together, and dreaming about the future. “It was,” he replied. “And I don’t know how this whole past life thing works but we’ve been given a second chance.”

“By remembering?”

She turned her head in question and Mulder found her lips. “We’ll have that again.”

“Your faith is grounding.”

“Did you enjoy the lighthouse today?” He asked, changing the subject. “I was thinking why not tour all them? We can drive back down to Cape Hatteras and climb the lighthouse there. Or drive an hour or so up to Corolla and climb the Currituck Lighthouse. And there are the ferries...Ocracoke, Knotts Island…”

“One day at a time, Mulder,” she laughed. “Today was Bodie Lighthouse. Tomorrow is Manteo. Tonight is this.”

“So,” he paused, setting aside both of the wine mugs. “Do you want to try to experiment and push the bounds of this fancy bathtub?”

“I bet you’re more effective than those water jets,” she challenged.

Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply. “I’ll get you to relax on this vacation.”

Scully just deepened the kiss and pulled him closer.

************************

Further up the barrier islands in Duck, North Carolina, Franklin Buckley, and Alex Krycek were at a small pizzeria. Over shared slices and bad beer, they talked. “I still don’t get it,” Krycek started. “Why is this so fucking important to you? Mulder is no one.”

“Your boss is interested in them.”

“And this somehow makes you the best choice?”

“Alexi…”

“Alex.”

“Alex.” Buckley grinned. “Have you ever wanted revenge so badly that you would do anything? Take back what is rightfully yours?”

Krychek grew quiet. “I have.”

“Then this is no different. It’s all a matter of waiting. Are you going to finish that pizza?”

“No.” Krycek was distracted. “Go ahead.”

“Must suck having one arm but I’ll tell you, this pizza is better than anything than they served in the joint.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, it is all the matter of waiting and seeing.”