#i love mr walking cancer bless him

[pookieace]

very mini haul for what i bought today :3

[toastedwrittenthoughts]

Pink Ladies Ep 8 Thoughts.. 

Episode 8.. Was rough.

Here are my thoughts.... Not that anyone asked for them.

The fact that Jane has to run away from both Buddy and Richie made me shake my head, and the fact that the Pink Ladies mention that she has 2 potential dates to worry about whereas they don't gave me the best of friends vibes.

Richie looking hurt, but still understanding of Janes decision about going to the Ball with the Pink Ladies. God. Man.

The internalized lecture she gave herself after he left. Say what you will, we've all had a moment like that. Like 'why did I say that?"

Gil coming in to the Frost Palace like a force and even after trying to shake the nerves out, him smacking books out of some persons hands never fails to make me laugh.

I gotta say that I FREAKING LOVE THE FACT!! That Gil respected both Richie and Olivia enough to WAIT UNTIL he got the brothers blessing to move in and ask her out. And as soon as he has an opportunity to do it, he goes straight for it! Atta boy! Get your girl! 

Olivia making him WORK for it with his hunt for nickels.

Hazel. And Wally.

Buddy looking visually a little rougher pleases me. Takes Jane's news well enough on the chin.

Gil being nervous and kinda skirting how he feels about her. .. My sweet boy..

Making nickels outta dimes... All I could think of.

Lydia walking by and Cynthia TRACKING here.

Nancy having a meltdown over her infatuation.

Nancy dropping a big C and Cynthia sounding so concerned.

"Its worse than cancer... Its inside of me. Growing. Spreading."

"A child?'- My roommate.

Cynthia being shook that Nancy has a thing for Potato. Both are probably shocked as hell..

Crushing Me is a western bop.

Potato looking thrilled and kinda scared of Nancy never fails to make me laugh...

Dot looking crushed..

Shy Guy looking subtly thrilled and SLIDING to go sit with the gang and tell them.

Classic Pink Ladies. Put their mind to it, they got dates in 5 minutes.

Richie chilling in the TBird, jacket off, looking at a lighter... Mmm. Yum.

Richie comforting Dot and deciding to go the the ball together is just... so pure. But what he says to her about how the person he likes going with someone else... "I know how that one HITS." And for Richie, they just keep on coming.. Then again, he's used to it. And Dot recognizing pain, offers him a lolly like someone does a drink or a cigg. And her lighting up at going together.

The whole PTA meeting... Just. Don't even get me started. Spelling in front of high schoolers? Are you kidding me? What about the others who's ears aren't covered?!

The more the girls are together, the more I love their dynamics. Jane and Olivia gushing together over the décor, the way they boost Nancy up in all her... Nancyness intensity. And the way Jane reacts when Cynthia comes into view. In a dress.. Just.. sweet girl.

Olivia and Mr. Daniels... GoFUCKYourself. No. Everything. About. You. NO!

Olivia almost using 'I have a date' like a goddamn shield...

Wally being charming AF when Hazel is nervous is just.. Daw.

Buddy looking FOUL and guilty to his dad who tries to dismisses it.

I thought it would pan over to Jane but the fact that it was Richie! Hooo boy!

And the look he sends over his shoulder before it softens in Jane's vague direction... God. Add in the fact that Richie was at a casino acting out when Jane got the news that she lost, and then to hear that after she lost, she didn't even lose fairly because Buddy's dad cheated... My first thought was that he couldn't go an tell her or even comfort her.. And the anger he must've felt to hear that his girl got cheated out and that Buddy hasn't come clean when he 'wants too'.... Lot to process.

The Pink Ladies hyping up eachother. The Birds being awkward around them..

Gil's comment about being a cartoon wolf around Olivia killed me! 

Gil being nervous when he hands her the corsage... YOU CAN SEE HIS HANDS TREMBLE! 

Richie keeping his reactions to Dot pleasantly neutral. He only livens up with Jane. 

Dots Sandy Reference! 

In my opinion, Richie's (Jonathan Neives) performance this episode seemed.... I dunno... weaker? than previous episodes, but when he was with Jane, he seemed to really be himself. Am I just being crazy?

Susan taking the Pink Ladies side in both the dance counsel and when talking to her mother made my opinion of her lift up a little. 

The conversation between Susan and her mother.. And the doctor... 'Buddy had a right to know...'  

Holy. Shit. 

Like, it makes sense and it does check off the classic box of head cheerleader and top quarterback... That is how you say something without saying something. 

Richie cant miss an opportunity to even subtly flirt with Jane. And the way she smiles back at him... Just.. My babies!

Dot picking up on vibes. They are kind hard to miss

Gil being a 'respectful dancing distance away' from Olivia until she pulls him in and the way he melts against her. And her giggle!

Cynthia and Shy guy.. The whole scene is (as weird and bad as this is gonna sound) a good kind of cringe. But Shy guy... My sweet boy.

Richie and Jane having 'ideas'!

Breaking my hear kid! Fly free!

Fly free!

It'll probably be an unpopular opinion but I'm glad we didn't get a kiss between Richie and Jane, especially right after Dot took 'one for the road.' And how he looked at Jane when she did it like... 

He wiped his mouth with his hand. I was both pleased and kinda offended in a good way.. 

"What about Buddy?"/"What about him?" The way his face subtly changes! AND THEY PLAYED THEIR SONG! I started humming 'Carelessly' and then FREAKED OUT!

BORN.TO.HAND.JIVE!

Olivia going after Susan.. is justified but scorpions can still sting eachother.. And dishing out poison like its shots goes out to anyone and everyone she can.

S.O.A.B.. Buddy didn't even come out and say it himself... But when it's already out there, he caves. 

Richie just trying to keep things calm... I felt kinda robbed that we didn't get a.. bigger reaction out of him.. And how he just pushes Buddy away..

Oh DOT! Damn! Dot! 

Wally and Hazel knowing that shits about to go down and need to GTFO. 

When we see Richie and Buddy.. I won't call it fighting.. It's more like a decent tousle.  "GeT him Richie!" 

Wally and Hazel. The Stars and the Sea. Cuties.

"That's. Not. Fair." I swear, that saying makes my eye twitch.

"If you would just Pick a side. Pick a boy." AND THE FACT THAT JANE doesnt respond. Say what you will, but Richie and Olivia make solid points, even when they are hurt/mad.

HE'S IN JAIL?! Olivia! WTAF ARE YOU DOING?!

Nancy looking as broken as the window....

[joybreathingdragon]

1000 Gifts 2024, November 6

Today has been a fantastic day here. Some beautiful moments in my day include...

Semper and I took a walk in the 47F air. It was glorious!

Eating breakfast on the patio in the sunshine. Felt so good.

A Facebook memory of my beloved Patton. Six years ago I went to a kill shelter near me to look at a Lab mix and ended up getting a pitbull that looked like a sad gargoyle. He was picked up from the street by animal control, and he had scars all over his body, but he was the sweetest dog. I lost him last November to cancer, but those 5 years we had him, he was the purist expression of love I have ever experienced.

My favorite blanket. Just saying.

I have a good landlord. He is a blessing.

My neighbor across the street is around 90 years old and lives by himself. He is a good man. I really like him. The last few days there has been a lot of activity at his house, some vehicles I know, some I don't, so I texted his son this morning, told him I had noticed the activity, and asked if Mr. V is okay. Thankfully, yes, he is. There is a family wedding this week, and that is the activity. I am excited for the couple and so thankful Mr. V is okay.

Shrimp and salad for breakfast. I know, not traditional, but that is kind of why I liked it.

What about you? Anything fantastic...or soul soothing...happening in your world?

[pinecellar]

Mr. Business is dead and I don’t feel so good myself

My mom used to read Lewis Grizzard, who was a humorist from Atlanta who was popular during the 1980s. I remember seeing his books on our bookshelves and one was called “Elvis is Dead and I Don’t Feel So Good Myself.” I dunno why the title resonated with me as a kid, but I often think of it when someone I liked or loved has passed.

Biz passed suddenly this yesterday morning. I was sleeping in (I was up late doing video editing work, with Biz actually lounging on my computer tower enjoying the warm exhaust) at the time when I heard what sounded like a growl from his cat treadwheel. My partner, who had been working in the living room, ran in and saw Biz collapsed on the wheel. His breathing stopped, his pupils dilated, and his body was limp. The little guy was gone. According to my partner, Biz had been surprisingly lively that morning. He had eaten a few treats, sunbathed, cuddled with my partner, and even playfully batted at Cary. He then proceeded to get on his treadwheel (something he had been too tired to do as of late) and start trotting. It seemed like he was gonna have a good day. Then, within an instant, he made a noise and then departed this world.

We believe he likely had a sudden heart attack, but it could be anything. He had FIV since we adopted him. He had so many health issues, but damn, he was such a little trooper who never held a grudge when we had to take him to frequent visits to the vet. However, the melanoma was growing so rapidly in his tiny body and the tumors were becoming so big and prone to injury that he was spending most of his time in a soft collar to prevent him from scratching them. It was so hard to see him complain from not being able to itch himself. It was only a couple of days ago that he got the collar off and ended up scratching himself so badly in the night that he and our wall were both covered in blood. My partner and I knew that we didn’t want any creature in our care to suffer, however, despite the complaining about the collar from time to time, he overall seemed okay, particularly when taken for his nearly daily long walks where he marched up to strangers and charmed them. We wanted his eventual passing to be peaceful and free of pain and we agonized over when to make the call to give him that. Instead, he seemingly decided to make that choice for us.

Mourning is strange. It’s a mixture of sorrow, relief, gratitude, numbness, and a million what-ifs. My partner and I mourned Biz for months before his passing. When we found out about his rare cancer and that it would likely spread fast, we wept on and off for days. We vowed to make his last months the best. I hoped he would make it to see Spring one last time and go on the leashed walks he loved so much. He did, and I can confirm how much he loved his time in the sunshine. That was such a blessing and I realize how lucky we were that we had that knowledge, as sad as it was at the time.

Biz was my first cat that I adopted as an adult. He was a little ball of personality and spirit and I am so grateful to the people who took him out of that shelter and brought him to our city. Our time together was briefer compared to other cats I’ve had in my life, but goodness, it was rich. He symbolized grit and survival to me, not just his own, but mine as well. When I adopted Biz, I had finally achieved financial security so that my partner and I could move into a larger, pet friendly place. We saw this little one eyed, FIV positive orange tabby who made it despite the odds against him on a local rescue site. He was a tiny, scruffy thing that marched right up to us when we arrived at his foster’s apartment. When we took him to our sparsely decorated new place, he immediately made himself at home. He seemed fearless. I knew he was the one.

He always will be the one. I had always wanted a cat who was a friend to all and he was that to a T. He charmed everyone he marched up to. Most people in our building knew Mr. Business. People in our neighborhood knew that silly, one eyed guy. Biz made our lives richer just because he made us meet our neighbors, which is nearly impossible in a big city and even harder when your caretakers are somewhat introverted.

I miss him, probably always. I’ll miss his little tantrums when he wanted to play or go outside. I’ll miss his snuggles. I’ll miss kissing his little spot over his stitched shut, empty eye socket (which I know sounds gross when I type it out). I’ll miss how excited he got when it was time to go on his walks. My family and I lost our cat Shiro well over two decades ago and we still talk about him often. Shiro was one in a million and Biz joins him as a fellow one in a million-er. My life may seem a little less bright now that he’s gone, but I know it will always brighten back when I remember the thousands of moments I spent with him. Phones might be awful, but I have so many wonderful clips and pictures of him thanks to that device.

I love you, Mr. Business. Thank you for being a part of our lives.

You know, I may feel a bit awful right now that he’s gone, but I know I’m gonna be okay.

[aajjks]

Mrs. Choi says “I have to be here for the meetings, also before the plane leaves I will call my husband to inform him of our proposal.” She text him to tell him everything and of course the father FaceTimes his wife very angry…

Mrs. Choi says “Sweetie here is Jungkook he wants to ask you something.” She passes the phone towards him and says “He is right here.” Her father wanted to go off but he stops as he listens to him, even though he is genuine and respectful Y/N father couldn’t help but let his true emotions show on his face. His voice was clipped and tight “As long as I get to see her I am fine, and as long as I get to walk her down the isle, I will be alright. Just do not break her heart, you know Suho was her best friend, and you killed him without remorse, and you killed someone else, Johnathan, he was like a big brother to her, and he was about to get married to someone. I hope you know you have a blessed woman. Just take care of her and we will have no problems.” He hangs up the phone and by the way Jungkook looks at Mrs. Choi tells her that something is wrong as he calmly hands her the phone.

Mrs. Choi looks at his text and says “Alright, we’ll you have a blessings. Did you want to hear that?” She also text Y/n that he is planning to marry her after the trip.

Meanwhile with Y/n

She is reading a book then she gets a text message and she looks at the person who sent it, and it was her mother. Her mind went into shock as she read the message and didn’t process that she dropped the book. Once she realized she goes to her bed and starts screaming into the pillow. She looks at the rings that Suho have to her and she starts crying even more.

She hears a knock on the door and she rushes to get it but as soon as she opens the door she is alarmed as she sees Jungwon standing in front of her with the maids costume.

She looks at him and he makes a sign to be quiet, he rushes her to a room and locks it. He cuts the lights on as he hears her nagging him but he hears her stop. He looks at her disgusted face as she looks around the room, then he says “Believe me now? The man worships the ground you walk on.”

She looks disgusted yet sadden by the fact that he had to go that far. She saw picture everywhere, even some of them are marked out with only her circled with a heart. Even some of her when she was just a child, her heart hammered in her chest. She really needs to get him some help, this isn’t a way to go.

She looks at Jungwon and says “W-Why did you bring me here? Momma told me he has plans to marry me, this….this is way to much. I feel sick and very weak. Please I- I do not want to be here but… but I have to in order to save you.”

Jungwon says “I have thirty minutes until the security cameras turn back on and the guards to wake up. I have been here many times and made sure to stay hidden. I really love you noona. I have also recorded him….doing stuff to a pillow with your dress you had on for your high school early graduation.”

There was a pregnant silence then Y/N concludes “He still isn’t over his wife. I had a dream about him calling me noona, a pregnancy test, and him chasing me with a knife. I am gonna have nightmares.”

⚠️⚠️⚠️

(Trigger warning)

Jungwon says “Mrs. Lee is Y/N sunbaenim’s mother…. She told me everything. She told me how domestic she was and her personality and everything with Jungkook. Basically she was Jungkook’s caretaker until she got cancer, but before that they got married and got pregnant but due to her having cancer that they didn’t know it costed them their firstborn. They were inseparable then he got really insecure then it drove him to insanity and he killed her because he thought she was cheating but she wasn’t. Someone hurt her and took advantage of her and he believed the guy. Also that guy that hurt her is still out there and he took her wedding ring.”

Y/N looks at him and ask “What does all of this have to do with me?” Jungwon looks at her with sorrow and says “He is lonely, delusional, creepy, and a worshipper apparently. He probably thinks you are his wife, because you act like her. The way Mrs. Lee describes her daughter reminds me of you.”

-✨

Five weeks pass by quickly for you but not for jungkook.

Oh he’s dreading these work meetings. He just wants to come back home to you and now that’s he’s got your family’s approval and blessings he can’t wait to marry you.

Every night he goes to bed, he fantasizes about your wedding together, oh it’s going to be like his first, even grander and beautiful.

Jungkook picks up the phone from his night and and calls you, the line is going so he waits that is until you pick up.

And he almost cries when he hears your voice.

“Hi baby, I missed you so much, how are you?”

[detectivejigsawpines]

The Ultimate Disney Villain Showdown-Part 3

I think that covers the animals. Now on to part 2 of Round 1-Mundane Villains!

Hans (Frozen)

Manipulator

Heartstomper

Yet another guy who just can't wait to be king

Strengths: Manipulation, charm, cunning, charisma, singing voice, horse, nice sideburns, sword

Weaknesses: Being punched in the face, sisterly love

VERSUS

Sheriff of Nottingham (Robin Hood)

The original Wolf of Wall Street

Tax collector

Big-bellied bully

Strengths: Intelligence, strength, sword, capable of throwing his weight around, light on his feet for his size, pettiness

Weaknesses: Incompetent vulture sidekicks, unnecessary cruelty, occasional inability to see through disguises, being chased by tents, catchy songs, having a twangy southern accent in medieval England

****

Cruella de Vil (101 Dalmatians)

Sadistic puppy killer

Fur fashion fiend

I don't care what the new movie tries to tell you, she is not a good or sympathetic person

Strengths: Ruthlessness, determination, intelligence, being a rich white female with a bobbed haircut, intimidation, drives like a maniac, terrifyingly awesome mansion

Weaknesses: Temper, impatience, incompetent henchmen, future lung cancer victim, greed, vindictiveness, able to be outsmarted by dogs

VERSUS

Madam Medusa (The Rescuers)

Child labor supporter

Cruella expy

Yet another example of a Karen

Strengths: Shotgun, pet crocodiles, intimidation, boat driving skills, manipulation, determination

Weaknesses: Impatience, temper, fear of mice, hotheadedness, bad boss, vanity, able to be outsmarted by mice

****

Shan Yu (Mulan)

Leader of the Hun Army

Howling wind

Possibly genetic experiment crossbreeding him with a hawk or something-check out those eyes

Strengths: Intelligence, sword, pet hawk, strength, freaky yellow eyes, giant freaking army, ruthlessness, determination

Weaknesses: Avalanches, fireworks

VERSUS

Mr. Scroop (Treasure Planet)

Technically an alien, but just go with it

Spider psycho

Israel Hands expy

Strengths: Giant pincers, ability to crawl on ceiling, vindictiveness, cunning, manipulation, eavesdropping, being part of a criminally underrated awesome movie

Weaknesses: Temper, impatience, the cold void of space

****

Percival C. McLeach (The Rescuers Down Under)

Poacher

Walking Australian stereotype

Surprisingly frightening by virtue of how willing he is to murder a child in cold blood, and because of the face he makes in that one scene

Strengths: Manipulation, being voiced by George C. Scott, strength, multiple weapons, Joanna (lizard sidekick), cool hat, determination, ruthlessness, intimidation

Weaknesses: Bad boss, beer gut, temper, gets outsmarted by mice

VERSUS

Lyle Tiberius Rourke (Atlantis)

Mercenary

Graverobber

Double-parker (allegedly)

Strengths: Manipulation, combat skills, ruthlessness, weapons, intimidation, pettiness

Weaknesses: Lack of conscience, ultimately a sellout, can't handle being cut by magic blue glass

****

Gaston (Beauty and the Beast)

Hunter

Stalker

Self-entitled bas...ketcase

Strengths: Charisma, cunning, manipulation, weapons, determination, slyness, popularity, good looks, deep singing voice, combat and hunting skills, high alcohol consumption

Weaknesses: Overblown sense of entitlement, illiterate-ness, vanity, selfishness, inability to accept rejection

VERSUS

Clayton (Tarzan)

Hunter

Poacher

Boss level after defeating Sabor

Strengths: Shotgun, machete, stealth, cunning, determination, manipulation, hunting skills, voiced by BRIAN BLESSED, absolutely massive chin

Weaknesses: Temper, impatience, berserker rage, susceptible to vines (not the Internet kind)

****

Bradford Buzzard (DuckTales)

Accountant

Leader of secret organization

Massive killjoy

Strengths: Manipulation, secret-keeping, espionage, bookkeeping, cunning, caution, practicality

Weaknesses: Control freakishness, fear of potentially dangerous situations, unresolved childhood trauma, inability to accept own villainy

VERSUS

Dawn Bellwether (Zootopia)

Born leader (it's literally in her last name)

Fearmonger

Political terrorist

Strengths: Hench-rams, manipulation, determination, deceptively cute appearance, ruthlessness

Weaknesses: Not physically strong, cute fluffy sheep, hatred of predator animals

****

Bill Sykes (Oliver & Company)

Gangster

Loan shark

Kidnapper

Strengths: Dobermans, intimidation, realistically horrifying, determination, willingness to kidnap a little girl

Weaknesses: Underestimating weaker parties, future lung cancer patient, trains

VERSUS

Governor Ratcliffe (Pocahontas)

Gold-digger (literally)

Designated villain on account of name

Historically inaccurate

Strengths: Charisma, opportunistic, authority, musket, nice hat, gets two villain songs in the same movie

Weaknesses: Greed, recklessness, racism, uncompromising

****

Lady Tremaine (Cinderella)

Evil Stepmother

Amateur slavedriver/domestic abuser

Social climber

Strengths: Manipulation, authority, expressing disappointment, cunning, using casual cruelty to ensure cooperation, looking absolutely terrifying in the above scene, being voiced by the same woman who voices Maleficent

Weaknesses: Jealousy, greed, helplessness against true love or whatever 🙄

VERSUS

Mother Gothel (Tangled)

Wannabe flower child

She and Frollo would be a match made...somewhere

Terrible babysitter

Strengths: Emotional abuse, semi-immortality, cunning, manipulation, ruthlessness, deception, not afraid to get her hands dirty

Weaknesses: Vanity, selfishness, unused to defiance, unwilling to age gracefully

****

Captain Hook (Peter Pan)

Pirate

Neverland inhabitant

Wannabe child murderer

Strengths: Hook (well, duh), swordsmanship, cunning, crew, cannons, loophole abuse, wrath, very snazzy dresser

Weaknesses: Cowardly, whiny, crippling fear of crocodile, obsession, overconfidence, semi-competent crew, constantly beaten by a child

VERSUS

Judge Claude Frollo (Hunchback of Notre Dame)

Religious leader

Hypocrite

Abusive parent

Strengths: Authority, religious mania, being voiced by Tony Jay, awesome villain song, even more awesome hat, manipulation, deception, ability to destroy self-esteem, determination

Weaknesses: Obsession, decades of suppressed libido, xenophobia, tendency to talk/sing to the fireplace, hallucinations, lava

****

Toffee (Star vs. The Forces of Evil)

Former general

Bipedal lizard

Nice dresser

Strengths: Regeneration, manipulation, intelligence, practicality, strength, possession, nice suit, patience

Weaknesses: Boring, dresses like a lawyer, sadly underutilized by his own show which had a TOTAL COPOUT ENDING THAT WAS SO STUPID I CAN'T EVEN-

*Deep breath, deep breath*

...You saw nothing. Just move along, nothing to see here.

VERSUS

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)

Evil scientist (NOT a pharmacist)

Either a genius or an idiot, it's hard to tell

Most wholesome villain ever

Strengths: Titanium arms, ability to build -inators in a day or less, ability to break or at least lean on fourth wall, combat skills (at least when up against platypus), ability to burst into random song and dance numbers at the drop of a hat, ability to break cycle of abuse and do his best to be a good father to his daughter, virtually indestructible

Weaknesses: Easily distracted (possibly ADHD), almond brittle, unresolved childhood trauma, pettiness, loneliness, social awkwardness, doesn't seem to understand the concept of NOT including self-destruct buttons on -inators, fears bats and vending machines

[thebirdandhersong]

Thank you for praying for me and for Briar and for my family :') it has been a real wild ride these past few weeks and I truly truly appreciate it, all of you (and thank you especially to @kayliebooks for organizing the prayer post in early March..... it meant so much, Kaylie!)

There is So Much that has been making up the craziness of Songbird's life right now but I shall endeavour to be brief for anyone who is interested:

the trip to Thailand and my grandfather's passing

By some incredible means of grace, my mother and I were able to fly to Thailand (despite work and school) and spend two weeks with my grandfather, who we knew by then had stage four lung cancer. It was such a blessing to be back in the country of my childhood and to be with extended family we hadn't seen for years. I could spend days describing my grandfather's house and Bangkok: my grandma's kafir lime trees, the tiny kitchen and the wobbly table for two, the sound of the birdsong (which is so different from our North American birds here in B.C.!), the flowers that had already bloomed in mid-March (plumerias EVERYWHERE), my grandfather's white rose (he bred it himself and was very proud of it.... he kept it close to the glass sliding door so that he could look at it every day), the blueness of the sky and the weight of the humidity and the way the heat just sits on your skin.....

It was two weeks of staying with Grandpa and Grandma, cooking with my mother, eating with my relatives, and just living daily life with my extended family. It wasn't always easy, and there was a lot of anxiety about his chemotherapy sessions and his difficulty swallowing and moving around. But Mom and I determined to be Hopeful and to let Grandpa know that we were sticking firmly to our hope, and that was what we did for two weeks. We were able to pray with Grandpa three times--something he's rarely consented to before in the past.

Lord only knows what good I did for my grandfather being there--I felt rather useless most of the time and very conscious of the language barrier. There wasn't much else I did other than smile a lot, cook a little, massage people's shoulders, sit in silence next to him. But we left Thailand happy that we'd gone and looking forward to visiting again in the summer with the rest of my family. (That was what we promised Grandpa we would do.)

Grandpa passed away half a week or so after we returned to Canada. They had to take him to the ICU for irregular heart rate and in a short while it became apparent that he was fading. My uncles came to be with him during that time. And Mom was able to talk to him that night over the phone, right before he passed. During that conversation, he accepted Christ. Which is something that gives Mom and I a lot of hope, but I do still miss him terribly!! He's the first person I've ever lost. There are moments that remind me of him.... sometimes I see a beautiful flower on my walk to church or work that I know he would've loved (I drew him lots of pictures of Canadian flowers) (he would especially love the roses here...... he loved his roses very much) or hear a song he might like, and then I remember that he's not around for me to tell him about these things anymore, and become very sad. But I remember him every Sunday when we have prayers of the people in Mass and I will always be grateful for the time Mom and I spent in Thailand with him :) Thank you for praying for him. He passed away without the kind of pain we were scared of, and Mom and I were able to laugh with him and hold his hand while we were there.

(I was rather sad about not being able to bring Mr. Knight to Thailand and introduce him to my grandfather (which I'd been hoping to do in future years) at first, but realized that I had been given the chance--Mr. Knight did get to talk to my grandfather over video call during the visit. And my grandfather (bless his heart) gave him a good-natured shovel talk in that conversation, which left Mr. Knight a little flustered :))

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 25

Y/n puts an end to everything.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

⚠️HUGE⚠️ trigger warnings: rape, drugging, sex trafficking, VERY graphic descriptions of violence, physical violence (please let me know if I leave anything out)

Hannibal could walk through a valley of human suffering and not even flinch. You couldn't tell if that made him subhuman or superhuman. You, however, were just human.

You wanted to be a badass. You wanted to kick the door down and make a scene. But one woman was enough to break you.

She was wearing only a large t-shirt. A cloth bandage covered in blood covered her pubic area like a makeshift pair of underpants. She laid limply against a stone. Her arms were punctured where needles had been.

"I don't..." she mumbled, clearly intoxicated beyond function. "...don't make me..."

You knew you couldn't afford to stop. But compassion kept your feet firmly on the ground in front of her.

"What is Chase making you do?"

"I can't-" She said, pressing her forehead against the rock. "I can't be an unwoman-"

She began to slam her head against the rock with clear intent to take her own life. Without thinking, you grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the grass. She sobbed, a bloody, but thankfully, survivable, gash on her forehead.

"Tell me your name." You demanded, squeezing her shoulders.

"...Tiffany." She said with a sudden lucidity.

The name unlocked a memory in you. It was the still image of a sunny young girl, immortalized on a faded missing person's ad hung up at the grocery store. Tiffany Rose Pierce, it read.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Tiffany." You whispered. "I'm gonna get all of you out of here."

"Vanguard won't like that." She said, slipping back into a state of minimal consciousness.

"Stay here." You instructed, pushing yourself back to your feet.

You readied your gun and slowly, carefully pushed the cabin door open. Suddenly, the stained glass window was the least of your worries.

The entire area was lined with cheaply-constructed bunk beds, like an overgrown henhouse. Women with distinctively long hair were shackled to the lower bunks. Their shaven counterparts, the unwomen, were forced to be the slavedrivers. They held the chained women down.

You heard the rattling of chains coming from the right. It was accompanied with screaming and wet slapping.

"Take daddy's cock you filthy fucking broodmare." A familiar voice grunted.

The only way you could look at him was behind the barrel of your gun. He was exactly how you pictured him while listening to his voice in the car. Unremarkable, middle-aged and serpentine.

"Pastor Armitage!" You yelled.

To hear someone call him by his title in the midst of violating a person was enough to send him into a panic. He sputtered and his entire face turned red.

He didn't suffer for long, though. A 12 gauge shell right through the face took care of that. Fragments of his head, his blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. His knees buckled and his limp body collapsed.

The room fell silent. Smoke trickled out of your barrel.

"Where's fucking Chase?" You asked the room.

Someone weakly pointed up the stairs. You met her eyes and nodded.

"Sorry about the mess."

Now you knew how Hannibal felt. Blowing someone's head off made you acutely aware of your own head on your shoulders. You held it higher. You felt no remorse as you ascended the staircase with your gun blazing.

You came across a room with some words etched in the door. 'Skin room'. You launched your foot squarely into the door, causing it to violently swing open. 

You examined the room from behind the gun. Chase had done a hell of a job dressing up this cheap cabin bedroom like a hotel suite, but the smell hit you before you could be fooled. A brick chimney, a wine cooler and a mahogany desk were positioned so the eye would gravitate towards the luxury while the nose picked up the brutality. The stained glass window was suspended in front of the real window, absorbing the mid-morning light and giving the room an eerie sepia tint. 

You cocked your gun to announce your presence. You heard the sound of running water, and then a side door swung open. 

“You’ll forgive me a couple minutes to freshen up.” Chase said, shaking his hands dry. “Cleanliness is close to godliness, after all.” 

You said nothing. You didn’t want to dignify him with a conversation. 

He bent over and pulled a bottle of wine from his cooler. He placed it squarely on the desk. You looked at it, then did a double take. He grinned sadistically. 

“Is that...” You leaned in to get a closer look. “1907 Heidsieck Monople Gout?” 

Chase shrugged. “You tell me. You’re the wine expert.” 

You’d heard many a conflicting story about the legendary 1907 Heidsieck. Some said as many as 2,000 bottles were pulled up from the depths of the freezing Baltic sea. Some said a single bottle could go for half a million dollars. With that kind of precedent, you never thought you’d ever have to worry about it. Yet, there it was. Right in front of you. 

“I’m saving it for a special occasion.” Chase said, suddenly reminding you where you were.

You returned to your gun. “For when you kill me?” 

“For when I save you.” Chase smiled, his unnaturally white teeth glistening in the sepia light. “See, Miss [F/N], you survived two of my attempts on your life. God has smiled down on you.” 

“Or, maybe,” You interrupted. “You’re just horrible at killing.” 

Chase raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"A knife through the hand hurts like a bitch, but it isn't fatal." You shrugged. "And you didn't do a good enough job beating the fear of death out of Catherine. Else she might have actually gone through with it. Maybe if you'd sent Tiffany-"

"God loves you." Chase interrupted before you could poke more holes in his attempts on your life. "Why you're still alive when so many less deserving of death have died is beyond me, but god works in mysterious ways, doesn't he?"

"She sure does." You smirked.

Chase cleared his throat. You'd pegged him as the type to get irrationally angry at the implication of god being a woman, so his reaction surprised you.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He gestured to a seat across from him.

You narrowed your eyes. "I don't think so."

"Pity." He pouted. "Not even for poor Mr. Graham?"

It dawned on you that he probably still thought he had Will, and you could use it to your advantage.

You held your gun at your side and hesitantly sat down in the seat. A gluttonous smile spread across Chase's face.

"So it wasn't wine after all." He said. "It wasn't even your own life. You're only willing to save your soul for the sake of your precious Will Graham."

"What do you care?" You growled through your teeth. "This is just a power grab for you. You wouldn't know what genuine empathy for another person feels like."

He grinned, as if someone had just flipped his 'on' switch. "Jesus does."

"Did Jesus use his influence to lure teenage girls into a sick breeding ring?" You sneered. "I don't remember that from VeggieTales."

"Genesis 1:28." Chase said. "And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply."

"I suppose you also don't eat shellfish or wear mixed fabrics." You rolled your eyes.

"It's always the same arguments from you atheists." Chase scoffed, adding a distinct bite to the last word. "When are you going to show some actual proof that the bible isn't an infallible model for human morality?"

"Maybe when you stop eating shellfish and wearing mixed fabrics." You repeated.

"They are minor sins at best." Chase grimaced. "I have gotten right with Jesus. You, on the other hand, oh, you. Your sins are weighty."

"I did just blast a rapist's head off." You admitted. "And it's going to be two very soon if this one doesn't get to the fucking point."

"I know about your exploits." He squinted. "With Mr. Graham and the man with the Nazi accent."

"He's actually from Lithuania, which, if you wanna be technical," you corrected, just for the sake of being annoying. "Is an ex-Soviet state, but whatever."

Chase tensed up at being corrected. "I know about your hedonistic sexual activities with two men, your exploration. But in the bible, Satan approaches these two people called Adam and Eve..."

"No he didn't." You shook your head. "It was a serpent. The devil wasn't a concept when Genesis was written."

Chase gritted his teeth. "God made one man and one woman. Each to fill each other's sexual desires, within the context of marriage, entirely-"

"But Adam had two spouses, didn't he?" You cocked your head and smiled. "Eve wasn't even the first woman in Adam's life. That was Lilith."

Chase heaved a frustrated sigh. "How do you know that?!"

"I was raised catholic." You said in the tonal equivalent of smacking him upside the head. "I was forced into religion at a young age and brainwashed to hate myself."

"See, that's where we agree." Chase tented his hands, thinking he found a genuine point of connection. "Organized religion is a cancer on society. Christianity is fundamentally about a relationship with god."

You laughed. It was the first real, good laugh you had in a while.

"Don't laugh." He scolded. "I am sorry that that was your experience with religion and that the Catholic church modeled a false teaching of who god is and what he wants. Not all christians-"

You wiped a tear from your eye. "Homie, you killed four people in front of me."

He placed his hand over his heart. "And christ forgave me. And he can forgive you too."

"Alright, this has been fun and everything," you said, standing up. You aimed your shotgun and cocked it. "But, I did come here to kill you, so, open wide."

Chase put his hand squarely over the barrel and pushed it out of the way. "You don’t have the guts to pull the trigger."

You pulled the trigger and blasted his hand clean off. Any hope of reattachment was shattered, as bits of his hand painted the walls and floor.

You opened the gun and let the two empty shells fall to the ground while Chase screamed in agony.

Instead of going through the motions of reloading, you smashed him over the head with the gun. He wrapped his good hand around the barrel and attempted to wrestle it away from you. You took this as an invitation to corner him against the wall with the still-hot barrel against his neck. He smashed his forehead into your nose, sending you tumbling backwards.

The shotgun fell to the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose to control the blood flow. Chase wrapped a champagne towel around his stump and picked up a small revolver on his desk. He let off a shot, which lodged itself into your shoulder. By the time he let off the second shot, you were on the ground. The third shot didn't fire, just let out a flash and a bang.

"Goddamn blanks!" He cursed.

He tore open a drawer and rummaged around for bullets, giving you a window to come up from behind and gouge your fingers into his eyes. He screamed, dropping a handful of bullets. He flailed aimlessly, then charged backwards, slamming you into the cheap drywall.

He felt around for the bullets without the advent of eyesight. You knew you wouldn't be able to take aim with your shotgun with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, so you dove for the revolver.

Chase grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you down. You hit the floor with a thud, the collision making the bullets jump. Chase grinned, using the sound to place them. He turned around and reached for one, while you scooped up another that had rolled under the desk.

You scrambled to your feet. Chase's hand was just centimeters from the revolver. Thinking fast (but not so thoroughly), you grabbed for the revolver. You wrapped your hand around the barrel, putting yourself at a disadvantage if he fired off another blank.

Chase, however, wasn't that forward-thinking, and opted for a childish game of tug-of-war instead. Knowing he had the brute strength advantage, you waited for him to pull back and released your grip. Chase tumbled, cursing on his way down.

With no thought on your mind but ending this, you launched your foot into his sack, causing him to scream and drop the gun.

Just as you thought it was over, just when the gun was in arm's reach, he kicked your knees backwards and you fell. You swallowed the pain and army crawled for the revolver.

"I don't think so." Chase spat, smiling like a maniac. He grabbed your face with his good hand and his fingers slithered down your throat.

"Choke..." he demanded. "Choke, demoness."

Strengthened by animalistic instinct, you crushed his fingers under your teeth. The sound of snapping bone filled the inside of your head and a sudden rush of blood flooded into your mouth. He withdrew his hand, leaving a finger behind to limply fall down your throat.

You coughed and gagged while Chase screamed. A single bloody digit dislodged itself from your windpipe, flew across the room and landed on the desk.

Chase sputtered something resembling a laugh. "Maybe you're not such a dumb bitch after all."

You grabbed the gun and pushed yourself up with the help of the desk. The finger stared up at you as you loaded the single bullet.

You positioned the finger onto the trigger and guided it with your gloved hand. Then you aimed it at his forehead. Dead by his gun, by his trigger finger. Bleeding on the ground in his private bunker while the empire he built collapses around him. A coward's death. It was poetic enough an end as he deserved.

"You want to say a prayer before you meet god?" You offered.

"My soul is saved." Chase said through ragged breaths. "My place in heaven is secured."

Bang. One bullet, right between the eyes. A bloody fingerprint on the pistol. You dropped the revolver and collapsed. You just laid there, listening to your phone buzz.

[zoefandom127]

Here’s what i imagine Rose’s thoughts are while she’s writing Wake Up. Did anyone ask for this? No. Did I stay up until 2 am writing it? Yes. Yes I did.

Summary: She was Rose Molina for heaven's sake. She was inherently too stubborn to die. Or so she thought.

Here’s The One Thing I Want You To Know

It was almost time.

She was leaving everyone behind.

Her parents, Victoria, Bobby.

The kids. Ray.

She didn't know if she could do it.

She was Rose Molina for heaven's sake. She was inherently too stubborn to die.

Or so she thought.

Ray he...he's going to be so lost, so heartbroken. She remembers a time when their relationship was still fresh. On the third date, he told her he was in love with her. It came out fast and he covered his mouth as if he didn't mean to say it. His eyes were wide as he tried to apologize. When he walked her home, on her front porch she gave him a kiss and whispered in his ear "I love you too."

She didn't want to leave him alone. She didn't want him to have to handle everything by himself—the bills, the chores, the kids. No doubt he'd say he wouldn't be ready for it, ready to live without her.

But...there wasn't a choice. There was nothing else no one could do.

He'll be able to handle it. She knows he will. He'll say he won't but he's strong. Stronger than he gives himself credit for. He can and will find a way to balance it all. For her, she knows he will.

And Carlos.

He was so young.

Has she been there enough? Has she spent enough time with him?

She can't leave now. No, she has to be there for her baby. Her sweet, sweet Carlos. She hasn't experienced enough with him. He hasn't experienced enough with her. They haven't had enough time. At this age...kids need their mother. They need both parents present.

Stop.

She's been down this road before. "There's nothing we can do, Mrs. Molina," they said, "We're sorry." There's nothing they can do.

Carlos...he would be fine. He would be okay. Ray would take care of him. Ray is the best man she knows. He has enough love to last a lifetime. Their kids are in good hands. Amazing, beautiful, loving hands. They'd be fine.

But…

Julie.

That girl...she didn't even know what to say.

Julie is a musical genius. A prodigy. She...she really wanted to see her prosper and grow into her beauty and musicality. She knew Julie wanted her there too. But there is not enough time. And that's okay (it's not). It'll be okay.

She had wanted to be there to watch Julie become big because she knew her bebita would be big. A talented, beautiful young lady who took no bullshit from anyone and who stayed true to herself. Just like her mother.

Now Julie, bless her heart, she would be a wreck for a bit. She knew it. She knew how close she was with her daughter, how much of an impact she had on her with the music they made. But she'd find her way. Julie is one of the most persistent, gifted people she had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Her family would be fine without her. This would shake them but the Molina's were stubborn (they got it from her) and persevering (definitely got that from Ray). It doesn't matter what breaks them, they will get back up again. No matter how long it takes.

Carlos, that beautiful soul of a child, would be anything and everything she knew he could be.

Ray, the best man she had ever known, would be anything and everything she knew he could be.

Her baby, her Julie, would be anything and everything she knew she could be.

They can't focus on her. They can't focus on what's gone, what's lost. It's like she always said—it's not what you lost, it's what you gain.

Hm. That's a good lyric.

Of course, Rose Molina was thinking about song lyrics on her deathbed. Typical.

And...appropriate.

Where was that notepad the doctors had used to write down her heart rate and stuff?

Let's see…

What would she want to leave them for after she's gone?

Here's the one thing

I want you to know

You've got someplace to go

Okay, good start Rose, you still got it.

Life's a test, yes

But you face it head-on

Hm. Doesn't rhyme. Should it rhyme for all of it? It already rhymes in the first verse.

Life's a test, yes

But you go toe to toe

Better.

You don't give up, no

You grow

She was already humming the potential melody beneath her breath even though the short rasps messed with the fluidity of her voice. Maybe she could get a keyboard in here, though it wouldn’t sound as good as the piano at home.

Man, she missed that piano. She missed home.

And you use the pain

Cause it makes you you

Though I wish I could you through it

And she did. So much.

Tears were pricking the corners of her eyes. No crying, Rose. Write the song.

I know it's not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it

They had to move on. The thought of them doing it without her caused a pang in her heart that wasn't from the port currently residing in her chest.

So get up

Get out

Relight that spark

You know the rest by heart

Her family could do it. She had faith wholeheartedly that they would wake up and live their lives the way they wanted to. Even if she's not there. There's nothing she wants more for them.

Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

This whole cancer thing is really putting a damper on her handwriting. She'd have to ask the nurse for a computer so she can actually put it all to music. They wouldn't refuse a stage 4 cancer patient from using the hospital printer, would they?

It's not what you lost

It's what you gain

Raising your voice to the rain

Damn it, Rose, you've done it again. It's nice to know she was going to die with her musical abilities still intact. The Lord is good (she could almost hear Victoria screaming "Amen" in response).

She could see it now—Julie would be sitting at the piano, singing her words to Carlos and Ray. It'd be one last reminder that she was and always will be with them. Death couldn't get rid of her that easily.

Maybe, it'd be enough. Hopefully, whatever they're going through, this will help them through it.

Rose pressed the alert button to get the nurse in the room.

She needed that computer stat.

I feel like Rose would joke a little (in her mind, not out loud) about her cancer. Me and my friend used to joke all the time abt my her cancer. And she’s the one who started the jokes. (Her name in my phone used to be Lil Kèymoh). Dark humor is definitely how we got by. Anyways, plz go to ff.net and ao3 and show some love to this if u liked it!! Goodbye-bye.

[mchalowitz]

the woman is the king, part two

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of this story! writing again has been so great and i’m excited for everyone to read where it goes from here! 

part 1: melissa

part 2: dana

———

The exam room is harshly lit, brutally overclean. When the doctor gives the diagnosis, it knocks the breath out of her, and she has the audacity to declare her gratitude. How could she.

The fragility of her age comes to mind on the drive home; her eyes prickle watching her copy of her oncology referral slide across the dashboard.

Dana is only thirty-three. Melissa was only thirty-three. She ponders her mother, Maggie, at thirty-three. Her destiny already decided; along for the military ride. She was carrying the fifth Scully child that year. Their matrarical line is cursed by the thirty-third year.

She simmers with the news for a few days; plotting methods of delivering impending doom. Mulder, the usual harbinger of bad news, is the one she tells first, and she believes using a clinician’s touch might soothe her.

The pronoun that binds them, the “we” travels from his vocal cords to their air between them. When he pauses, she can fill in the blanks of how he wants the sentence to end. We can do something about this or we can fix this. The problem is, there isn’t anything to be done.

Inside her head is a glass and cancer is the water from a faucet turned all the way on. They are merely waiting for the overflow.

--

Tara is pregnant; she is having a boy. Her brother’s wife is thirty-three. It must be so nice, to be dubbed a Scully, and yet remain so blessed at this foredoomed age. 

An appointment to be pumped with poison and Tara’s baby shower fall in the same week. What a scheduling nightmare, she jokes, when she declines the invitation with warm regards. Bill does not laugh and he buys their mother a plane ticket. 

The total lack of skeletal structure takes her over, has her melted into the couch. Scully finds the initial nausea passes quickly this time. It is the wave of self-consciousness from Mulder bearing witness to this betrayal of her body that lingers. 

“It must be kind of exciting,” Mulder comments. She is watching him wipe down the counter and she doesn’t remember a single time she has seen him willingly clean anything. He is not half-assing any of the responsibilities bestowed upon him by the Mrs. Scully. 

“It might be more exciting if it were someone else,” Scully responds, forgoing her usual diplomatic response on the subject. 

Mulder pauses, focuses in on her eyes, and in unsaid words, he nods in agreement. He throws the wet rag into the sink with a stomach-churning squelch and falls beside her on the couch. 

“You know,” she adds, “Melissa always said she wasn’t going to have kids until she was forty.”

Melissa would goad her into increasingly ridiculous futures; nothing is more ridiculous than futures that will never exist. Neither of them could have predicted such an outcome. 

When they were young, one Scully sister was rarely found without the other. It was only the intricacies of adult life that would split them apart. Melissa yearned for adventure; to shed ideals and expectations from their youth in far off places. Their parents envisioned a certain fate for their children, and Dana followed it, until she didn’t. 

As she conjures up those conversations about where their lives would go, she realizes she cannot even remember her voice. It rolls over her like a wave, the awareness of fading memories, and it cracks her guise held barely together. 

Her glassy eyes brim and she finally crumbles, feeling wholly pathetic. She lacks her usual resiliency that he is accustomed to seeing from her as she weeps, “My sister is gone and I have cancer, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says.

“I’ll miss everything,” she whimpers. The weight of mortality hits her; the decades worth of wasted holidays and the lost memory of her nephew’s birth. Scully will never stand in resolution with her partner after their tireless work for the truth. The loss of an uncomplicated life feels enormous. 

She laments what she was never sure of even desiring; the two-story in the suburbs, the babies of her own, the one true love...

“Let’s get married.”

--

His offer hangs in the air. Scully cries a bout of nausea and bolts for the bathroom. When she emerges, Mulder is there to tuck her into bed.

The sun sets and it rises again on a new day. She comes out of the bedroom apprehensively. Finding Mulder on one knee in her hallway isn’t an idea she can rule out completely. It wouldn’t even come close to the craziest thing she has seen him do.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder rubs circles into his forehead with his cell phone pressed to his ear. She gets close enough to vaguely hear the caller on the other end, listen to the outrage behind, “I couldn’t even put the kettle on without her standing right behind me. In my own home, Fox,” and making it seem as though this is the only issue in the world that matters. And Scully kind of wishes that was true.

“That’s her job, Mom,” he replies. The tone of his voice almost makes her laugh. A polite but clear get me out of here she knows well that comes out during conversations with authority figures, midwestern cops, and not unsurprisingly, mothers.  

Their eyes meet, he looks at her as though she is his unsurpassable savior. He begs off the phone, making the usual adult child promises, and sets his cell phone down on the table. 

Scully commends Mulder for trying to be more involved with his family since his mother’s stroke. But what a fate he has, caring for the medically and emotionally broken women in his life. He gives her a tight lipped smile and she asks, “Is everything alright?”  

“Jury’s still out,” he declares with a shrug. He stands and starts walking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water, toast, a ring?” 

A certainly interesting turn of events for them, a question that could develop into an actual conversation about the night before. 

“Mulder.”

“We could get married, Scully.” 

“This is so like you, Mulder. This is your stream of consciousness decision making,” she counters. Scully flattens her hands on the table, takes a breath, and attempts to change her tone to sound a little more kind. “I know the idea that I’m dying is bleak. But there are implications to getting married. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

Scanning Mulder’s eyes, Scully can see he understands what she means by implications. “Don’t think about that,” he tells her finally, “If you really believe this is the end, what do you still want to experience?” 

Scully’s eyes flash away, toward the door. Four years ago, she stood in that spot, and assured her sister unequivocally of her absolute disinterest in dating her new partner. Even if he were just a guy. 

Selfishness has often forced a wedge between them; a precursor to many experiences they would have as partners. His brilliance and humanity drew her in then, not unlike the way it does now. When the question was posed--just any guy--their debates were thrilling, a little flirtatious even, and now they can absolutely infuriate her, but she respects his ideals, and she knows that sentiment is reciprocated. 

On occasion, Scully is even a little selfish, and allows herself to appreciate just a guy with a little flop of hair that falls onto his forehead, and with the most charming smile. 

Whether it be guilt or admiration, Mulder wants her to experience everything before it gets taken away. She can admire the altruism. 

Mulder doesn’t ask again, he only suggests. And she accepts. 

--

The commencement of their marriage is without fanfare in a government building on a Friday afternoon with grocery store flowers and a safe kiss on the cheek to clinch the deal. There are no rings but he holds her left hand as they bound down the courthouse steps. During their late lunch at a local diner, the waitress notices their attire, and offers them a free slice of pie, any flavor they want, because it is a special occasion. 

A few paces ahead of her on the way to the car, Mulder opens her door. “Your getaway car, my bride,” he teases. The smile on her lips quickly fades. His jovial face morphs to confusion. 

But it’s the drip. Blood splatters on the clean, clear plastic protecting their chocolate cream. She tries to maneuver for her purse but he quickly procures tissues from the inside pocket of his jacket. 

He squats next to the passenger side of the car and holds tissues to the nose of his bride. 

--

Something is weirdly, intangibly incorrect. 

It starts with weekend plans. Mulder is already well aware of her singular escape, her monograph for the Penology Review, with its looming deadline coming up. 

He normally makes comments about her unwavering professionalism. It is a mutual agreement to keep their marriage to themselves. The federal government has no investment in the inner workings of their lives; they are legally married and they both know that could easily mean reassignment for both of them. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking in a few witticisms for his own amusement. 

Mulder knocks. That’s weird.

The wine is truly suspicious. Except for the occasional beer, Mulder was never much for alcohol to begin with, but what is especially bizarre is the sudden lack of concern over her doctor’s recommended meal plan. He had been following it down to the last letter, and while a glass of wine is not exactly forbidden, it is not the first item on their shopping list. 

“We never really talk much, do we?” 

Admittedly, the shared looks and delicate touches of silent communication is where they excel, but the question is still somewhat puzzling. Since beginning a routine of casual marital cohabitation, she believes they talk quite a bit. The minutiae of everyday life is often a topic of conversation in ways it never has been. 

Scully still plays along by agreeing that, no, they don’t talk. She sips wine and tells him true-ish stories of Marcus, the prom date of a Scully, but not herself, and the infamous pumper truck scandal involving her brother Charlie. 

Romantic intimacy has not exactly been a component of their marriage and she has found that cancer does not make one feel like the most desirable of specimens. He has never expressed anything to make her believe he feels anything for her beyond friendship, despite the deep affection they share. 

He leans in now; his eyes closed and head cocked. Kissing him isn’t a repulsive idea, but it just seems off, because Mulder is acting so strangely out of character. 

Scully scrambles off the couch to get away from the man that is so clearly not her partner. Absolutely horrified, she stares at Mulder, and has no reservations when he steps forward to cuff the pathetic and vile man that invades her living room.  

--

Many lines have still not been crossed and she doesn’t think they ever will be. The cancer is still aggressively present with the treatments doing very little. 

Scully prepares herself for the eventuality of hospitalization, potentially for good, and it is very tempting to keep that from Mulder, to allow them to remain in their bubble, but she knows that isn’t fair.

Her car idles on the street outside Harold Spuller’s care home and three soft raps sound on her driver’s side window. She sucks in air deeply and wipes the tears from her cheeks before rolling down the window.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so heated back there.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. When her eyes flash up to his, so guilty and fond, her words fall out in a tumble, unable to prolong this evasion of the truth any longer. “I don’t know why I lied to you. I’m not fine. My treatments aren’t working and my doctors don’t think another round will change that.”

“I’m in this with you, Scully.”

“I know you are,” she affirms. She ducks her head down toward the steering wheel, like a little girl caught eating dessert before dinner. “I’m tired, Mulder.” 

“I’ll follow you.”

His headlights shine in her rearview mirror, trailing behind all the way back to where they began this night in Georgetown. Arriving in the apartment, she shuts the door behind them, and informs him, “I’m going to take a shower,” and he nods, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. He loosens his tie and starts meandering toward the bedroom. 

The phantom ghost of his touch remains on her shoulder and it reminds her of his romantic soul that she is only now been introduced to. Mulder is more emotionally open and affection than she is. He treats her like a wife. They are married, after all. 

Their marital bliss is of their own design; enjoyably innocent with its lack of certain intimate elements left largely undiscussed. However, there is delight to be found in mere shared company. With a no-work policy now enacted in her home, the opportunity to see funnier, more relaxed, and domestic sides of each other often makes it feel as though their marriage could be real. 

An unspoken agreement to live this arrangement without rules creates something representative of authentic matrimony. Ignoring the initial awkwardness when sharing a bed leads to the normalization of pressing into his warm side each night; falling asleep faster and deeper. Leisurely playing with his hair while reading on the couch one evening introduced a few form of relaxation they both enjoy. He even calls her “honey” occasionally, and she must admit, it makes her feel pleasantly warm to hear it. 

It wasn’t right to keep him out of the loop.

Sitting on the tile shower floor, Scully washes the last six hours from her skin. In an attempt to prove to herself, to everyone, that she can still do this, she pushes herself too far. The best decision for the case was to take down the nurse. For her fragile body, not as much.

A small box sits on top of her towel. She picks it up, weighing it gently in her palm.

Mulder already lies innocently under the covers and appears deeply enthralled in his nighttime reading. He looks very youthful and sweet in his wire-framed glasses and his large feet poking out at the end of the bed. She presents the box in question and inquires, “Mulder, what’s this?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs. He glances up briefly, taking off his glasses. “Oh. Wedding present.”

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, she sits down on top of the comforter, and cautiously opens the box. Her eyes fall on a gorgeously dainty bracelet with a small diamond affixed to a silver chain. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Scully finally admits. Mulder smiles, wordlessly leaning forward to close the distance between them. His kiss finally comes with soft lips and firm resolve.  

--

A keen ear kept on the exchange occurring in the hallway, Scully hears the malice in “let her die with dignity,” the intense intent to guilt. Since childhood, Bill has been masterful at identifying a scapegoat. 

Appearing at her bedside, Scully takes her brother’s hand. It has been quite some time since they were together in person and she is aware she should focus on the grand gesture of his presence. But they have always sparred on injustice and she just witnessed him as the purveyor. 

“I don’t want you to talk to him like that,” she tells him. 

It takes almost nothing to generate a quarrel between the two of them. “You keep defending him, Dana, and I don’t see what there is about him to protect,” Bill argues. “You wouldn’t even be in this situation if...”

“Fox has been very helpful,” Maggie interrupts. Their mother is well versed in deescalating the disputes of Dana and Bill; the oil and water of the Scully children. “Bill, sit down and be civil.”

Where Mulder pushes, Bill pulls, and Dana is left somewhere in the middle. Something akin to a jealous feud brews between the two men in her life; each vying for the role of ultimate fixer. It is only when Mulder orchestrates the impossible that her brother cannot deny the miracle. 

Most conversations were plans for a comfortable end or perhaps a prolonged, managed experience. The concept of remission, a life without the dark cloud of cancer, was a possibility never even considered. 

The day of her discharge finally arrives after a final weeklong observation of her progress, and Mulder, as a now regular fixture of the post-critical care ward, shows up to her room early as usual. He drops a bag on her empty hospital bed. “I brought you some clothes from your apartment,” Mulder informs her. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything as uniquely versatile as the hospital gown.” 

“I appreciate the effort,” she smiles, ripping open the plastic bag.

Scully can feel an awkwardness emanating from him with three feet between them. She is taking stock of the items he provided when he finally speaks, “Listen, I can be out--” 

With a week to discuss the topic, neither of them were brave enough to allow it. The last thing Scully wants Mulder to believe is she married him to take advantage of a kindness he extended to her. It was done with such a different outcome in mind; a selfless act with an outcome to be bathed in heartache. 

Now, there is no plan on how to approach where things will go from here. Scully didn’t ever think she would be in a position to have to consider it. 

At the very least, they deserve time to enjoy a lack of this particular impending doom. 

“Should we get dinner tonight?”

If there is anything they deserve more of, it is time.

It is health.

It is stability.

[friendofhayley]

This one’s a little late because I’ve just started work again this month! Thank you again to all the fandom content creatures for giving us an escape. Here are the best fics I read in August and they’re all bangers. This rec includes 13 fics from the One Direction, Teen Wolf, and Umbrella Academy fandoms. The starred ones are fics I would drop in front of your door if I was your cat.

Larry (One Direction)

1. Naked Attraction by reader_chic_2 | reality tv au - Louis is basically a pixie dream guy - rock star Harry - true love - 12k

Louis Tomlinson was the only gay and unfortunate staff member chosen to step in for one of the six possible partners when someone dropped out. He hated working there, and he definitely didn't want to agree, but it was too good of an offer to be turned down. Nothing would come out of it, surely, and they even agreed to keep his identity a secret.

That all changed when famous singer Harry Styles walked out. Louis had no idea who he was, and Harry liked that about him.

2. thick alpha (series) by @eeveelou | a/b/o - Louis just wants to take care of his man and that includes kink hijinks - emotional hurt/comfort - chubby kink - 3+ parts

Louis loves Harry's body from the first moment he sees him. It takes Harry a little convincing to see what Louis sees.

3. *still feel the same around you* by @gaycousinlarry | this gave me cavities!! - out of order - girl direction - older Larry - 13k

Twenty-five years is a long time to fall in love with someone, to learn all the ways a person can fit into one's heart. It’s also an awful long time to lie to one of the most important people in your life.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

4. Who Can Take the Sunshine (series) by Anonymous | fae Stiles - dad Derek - this is just so pure and can just take you out of any bad mood! - see how magic works - 12+ parts

It all starts when Derek and his five year old daughter meet Fairy Stiles at the market.

5. *Blood is (Not) Thicker Than Water* by Anxiety_Baker02 | tw: abusive extended family - BAMF Stiles - pining Derek - this WILL get you worked up - 78k

Stiles hasn’t seen his extended family in years- mostly because they’re assholes. His cousins bully him relentlessly, and his aunts and uncles aren’t much better. So when he hears that they’re coming out for a family reunion, he’s understandably upset. He knows the next week is going to be hell, and it’s made worse when a new pack shows up, vowing revenge on their pack.

6. Be still, my love (series) by tugela54 | werewolves are known and discriminated against - omega Stiles - pining - misunderstandings - 3 parts

When Stiles’ boss unexpectedly goes into rut, he offers himself to the lycan, knowing all too well how utterly terrifying it can be.

Will his gamble pay off, or ruin everything…?

Klave (The Umbrella Academy)

7. Like Real People Do (series) by ObliqueOptimism | yeah so Klaus self-harms himself to deafness - family bonding - good siblings communicate, who knew? - fluff and angst - 6+ parts

Vanya got a call from the hospital, Klaus had harmed himself while in rehab. She decided then and there to be there for him. Together they heal, grow, become the family they'd never been, and change the future in immeasurable ways.

8. And When I Look In My Window, So Many Different People To Be by ObliqueOptimism | witch Klaus - BAMF Klaus still has daddy issues - bless this author - the more ghosts you know - 24k

If you were to go looking for Klaus, you wouldn't look to the alleys where drugs are bought, or to a rave where you could lose yourself in dance, no. No, you would look to his garden full of protective herbs, to his bedroom at three in the morning where he tends to make magic amulets. Klaus grew into his power, both as a witch, and as the Séance.

9. Tombstones In Their Eyes by @siriuspiggyback | disabled Klaus - despite themselves this family can care! - hurt/comfort - angst with a happy ending - 12k

His siblings don't pay a lot of attention to Klaus, don't notice the dog tags and new tattoos, but even the Hargreeves have to notice a missing limb.

10. *Choirs Threaten in Voices I Only Feel* by @veteranklaus | hey veteranklaus? I’d die for you - blind Klaus - I love how this fic changes Harold Jenkins - Ben as a seeing eye ghost? perfection! - 61k

The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.

There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

11. *Numbers (series)* by @veteranklaus | this series legit made me disocciate for a few days especially since I just finished The Accident by Wiesel - the Holocaust is a trigger warning - very dark - the writing is literally award-winning, like the research done? the empathy paid to the characters? god tier!! I’ve written several research papers on post/during-holocaust times and i just want to applaud you for the work you’ve done in writing this - 2+ parts

The briefcase transports Klaus into a time to fall in love with a bookshop owner and photography enthusiast with soft amber eyes and a yellow star sewn into all of his clothes. And later, Klaus will stand next to that same man behind a fence, and he'll hold his hands up to a camera and pray to a merciless god that his siblings open a history book and find him.

12. *At the Edge of the Universe* by @veteranklaus | this is turning into a veteranklaus rec post but i don’t care - this is the life Klaus and Dave deserved!!! - the gays are really winning today y’all - cottagecore but make it the 1970s - 58k+

There is a knock at the door. With a heavy sigh, Klaus untangles himself from the mess of Dave's limbs with a mutter of 'I've got it'. They rarely get visitors out here, their closest neighbour being about three miles away, and Klaus didn't even hear a car or see any headlights outside.

He opens his door, expecting to see old Mrs Richards asking for one of the dog treats they always keep for the occasions her dog runs off. He does not, however, expect to see his siblings - all of them, standing outside his door. Well, Five is being held up by Diego, and Vanya is being carried by Luther, but they are all there, on his doorstep, on this evening in 1970.

13. Counting Down The Days To Go by @siriuspiggyback | sick Klaus - sibling bonding - Klaus goes to therapy - there are some lines that just kick the breath out of you - 24k 

It started off small. Easy to explain away. That was his downfall, in the end. By the time they diagnosed him, it was too late; the cancer had gotten a tight hold on his body.

Klaus wouldn't tell his siblings, not yet, no matter how much Ben begged him. He wanted to feel as normal as he could, for as long as he could.

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

Angel of Death

Chapter 3: Living on a Prayer

Chapter One: Dead Things

Chapter Two: Death’s Desire

🚨Warnings🚨: Hospice; Terminal Cancer; Death; Assisted Suicide; Grooming - Pastor Looks at Angel in a sexual manner that makes her uncomfortable and leaves his hands on her back, hands, and face too long; Mention of Bullying; Abuse; Forced Tattooing of a Minor; Mentions of Witchcraft; Language.

Word Count: 3,708

A/N: Here is the full thing finally!! I’m so excited to have it finished so I can move on to the next chapter and working on other ideas and series. I hope it was worth the wait for those who have been waiting a while! 

Do you know what hospice is, Angel?” 

You were more focused on your surroundings than Pastor. The air was stiff in the small bedroom, heavy, like it was going to settle in your lungs and cause you to choke until you couldn’t get a fresh breath. There was barely enough light to see the old man that lay in the bed, or the younger woman who sat on the edge, holding his wrinkly hand as she attempted to hold back tears. The heart monitor behind the woman beeped steadily, another machine on the opposite side of the bed letting out loud sighs as if it were breathing itself through the stifling air. 

“Sweetheart.” Your mother’s kind voice brought your attention back to the man squatting in front of you. You weren’t sure why he drove you and your mother an hour away from home, but you assumed you’d find out soon enough. 

“Do you know what hospice is?” 

You shook your head in lieu of an answer. 

“Hospice is when people are too sick and the doctors know they will never get better. They’re about to pass and they try to make the person comfortable and give their family time to say goodbye.” 

You glanced over to the man in the bed. He was dying, and the crying woman was saying her goodbyes. But why did Pastor bring you here? 

“Mr. Newman is very ill, Angel. His daughter wants him to be able to pass on his own terms, and hopefully go right to Heaven.” 

It was starting to come together in your young mind. It had been months since you stole your best friend’s soul and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find her. Her parents stayed in Angel’s Paradise despite this, even offering you gifts for another chance to see her. You left them in front of her grave instead. 

Everyone was silently afraid that she didn’t go to Heaven, but no one ever mentioned it. They all knew the direction you threw her and that damn necklace and what it was supposed to mean. 

It made you sick to think about for too long. 

“I want you to try, my angel. Take Mr. Newman’s soul and guide him to your Father in Heaven. You would be releasing him of so much pain. Do you want him to be in pain during his final days?” 

Another silent shake of your head. 

“He wants to go. His daughter wants him to go. Only you can help him pass over.” 

Pastor smiled forlornly, offering his hand to you. He guided you to the bed, helping you up beside the machine that was breathing. 

“Focus, my angel.” 

You took a deep breath, glancing at the old man’s daughter who looked at you hopefully. You placed your hand on his chest and closed your eyes, feeling something in him start to pull. You yanked back hard, the rest of his soul separating from his body. You were the only one who could see the soul of the man gasp when he was released from his prison, the screeching of the heart monitor threatening to break your concentration. 

“Do you still have a hold of him, Angel?” 

A nod. 

“Great! Now focus! Send him to your Father!” 

The old man looked at you with a face of pure elation, looking up hopefully before you threw him upward, the soul disappearing into the ceiling. 

The room fell silent and you suddenly felt empty. It was like you were stuck behind a curtain and the real world felt so far away. Mr. Newman’s daughter began to sob and the sound slowly brought you back.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” 

You just nodded, climbing back off the bed to hide in your mother’s side. Pastor took your place, praying with the woman for a moment. Her ‘amen’ was followed by a stack of cash placed in Pastor’s hand. 

“Have a blessed day. Come along, Angel. Time to go home.” 

------------------------------

This little act lasted a few years. Pastor received applications from all over the country, but only accepted ones from Michigan. As long as the family had a large stack of cash waiting for you, Pastor was happy to cart you all around the state to lead Lambs home. He, of course, said he was only doing it out of the kindness of his heart but the new cars, clothes, jewelry, and hot tub didn’t seem to line up with that idea in your mind; you never complained when you got the things you wanted though. You didn’t realize Pastor had new plans for you and Angel’s Paradise to take place for your birthday.

Your thirteenth birthday was in two weeks and set to be the biggest bash Angel’s Paradise had seen yet. You ran through the living quarters of the church to find your mother to share your excitement, stopping short of your mother’s door when you heard her speaking to someone. 

“A tattoo?” 

“It will be symbolic of the Angel she is. And maybe later, we add more. But I want to start with the wings.” 

Pastor wanted to tattoo wings on you? You instinctively reached across your body to clasp your shoulder, imagining what it would look like. Imagine the pain you’ve heard about. 

“One of our new residents is a tattoo artist. He will do a good job, I promise.” 

Your mother didn’t respond, but you could imagine the face of uncertainty she was surely presenting. 

“You know I would never hurt [Y/N]. The last thing I want is to hurt you or her.” 

There was shifting on the bed followed by complete silence. You continued onto your room, wondering if your mom agreed. 

------------------------------

Your curiosity was quelled a day later as you were led into a small house you had seen completed just a few weeks earlier. You gave the man a friendly smile, remembering him from his meeting with his son who died overseas. The man and Pastor shared niceties as you followed into what should have been a bedroom, but was made into a makeshift tattoo studio. Drawings and pictures covered the walls like a personalized wallpaper, a desk covered with even more pictures and paintings that looked like the spectre you summoned against the far wall. The man folded up a padded table and shoved it into the corner before pulling out a strange looking chair. You vaguely heard Pastor tell you to take off your shirt and you looked up with a mix of fear and confusion in your eyes. 

“I have something you can wear to cover your front,” the man quickly interjected, pulling a thin cloth robe out of a drawer. You hesitantly took it and held onto it for dear life as the men exited the room to give you some notion of privacy. You sat on the chair and let out a huff before calling out to let them know you were ready.

“My angel,” Pastor cooed, moving a chair so he could sit in front of you as the other man finished preparing the ink. “The Lord came to me in a dream. He is so proud of the work you’re doing with His gift. Sending his Lambs back home to Him, allowing people to see their loved ones again. You’re doing so well.” He smiled, reaching forward to take your hands. You tried not to shiver from the cold feeling his touch gave you. “He showed me a ceremony we can have for those Lambs here in Angel’s Paradise. That included two raven wings on your back, and certain flowers on your chest. I don’t want to lie to you, my angel, it’s going to hurt. But think about what the Lord wants for you. Think about your mission.” He squeezed your hands and released them so the tattoo artist could lay the stencils on your skin. “Just pray through it, okay? He will help you through.” 

Pastor left you before the needle touched your skin, mumbling something more about praying through the pain. The notion of doing anything to help the pain disappeared from your mind almost instantly. The man tried to talk to you in an attempt to distract you from the pain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Silent tears just streamed down your face as you mentally begged for relief from the One who wanted you to go through this. Pastor’s voice was all that you could hear, though, telling you to continue praying and that this was what He wanted. You knew he would lament about Jesus being whipped to save us from our sins, and that this was your equivalent. This pain was going to allow you to become a better shepherd for His Lambs. 

 You didn’t want to imagine the kind of pain you would be in if you said no to this and ran off, anyway. 

The man finally stopped dragging the needles over your skin hours later, mumbling apologies as he applied bandages to your back and arms. He gave you privacy once more to get dressed and didn’t seem to mind when you used the time to finally let out a sob instead.

You began your walk home, the cold air threatening to freeze the tears on your cheeks. You didn’t stop to talk to Pastor or your mother when you entered the living quarters, just wanting to be alone as you asked the Lord once more to relieve you of this pain. Your mother came into your room anyway, trying to offer love and support, but was quickly brushed off.

If she truly cared, you wouldn’t have been left alone to endure through the process. 

------------------------------

You couldn’t even enjoy your birthday like you had wanted to. It was supposed to be fun, full of laughter and light, but you just felt like a bird in a cage meant to perform tricks for treats. Adults came to you and wished you another happy year, but it was quickly followed by questions of what you were going to do for them. When could they see their loved ones, could they see them for longer periods if they brought you better gifts. The other children just stayed as far away from you as they could possibly be, standing in a circle and whispering amongst each other while looking at you with disgust. 

You didn’t know what you expected from them. This was just what they did. The townsfolk had erected a little schoolhouse near the front of the town as teachers moved into Angel’s Paradise. Pastor didn’t make you go, and you couldn’t care less about the reason, you just didn’t want to go. Your peers already avoided you like a leper, not wanting to make the wrong move or say the wrong thing and end up like your friend from all those years ago. You heard their whispers of ‘freak’ and ‘Reaper’, and you happily accepted the idea of needing a different education if it meant you didn’t have to be stuck in class with people who hated you.

You were in the sanctuary of the church, doing your daily piano lessons. Your tutor was a kind woman who was the nation’s best piano player before her sister died and she became overwhelmed with grief. For a brief meeting with her sister, she took the time out to teach you all that she knew in exchange.

“Carol, I’m going to have to cut the lesson short today. You can speak with Holly at another time.” 

Your piano tutor looked dejected but nodded as she gave you one last note on your playing before excusing herself. Pastor smiled down at you and took Carol’s place on the piano bench. You continued to look forward at the sheet music, focusing on the notes instead of Pastor’s eyes on you. As the years went on, it felt like they wandered further and further down, but he did that to plenty of women. 

“How is your back, my angel?” 

You rolled your shoulders and straightened your back. “Healed, I think.” 

Pastor ran a hand over your back with a smile. “I’m glad. I think you’re ready for the next tattoo the Lord wants you to get.” 

“Another one?” 

“Are you questioning your Father? Angel, he has a plan for you. You have to follow it to the letter,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking down at your lap.

“That’s okay, my angel. Young ladies always have questions.” Pastor gently pushed your hair back, pushing your head just slightly so you would look at him. His gentle smile was back but it felt so empty. “Here. I drew it for you.” 

You took the piece of paper that was handed to you and unfolded it to uncover the design. Your first thought was that it was beautiful. Different flowers arranged in a beautiful bouquet. 

Your second thought was how painful it was going to be. 

“Where?” 

“On your chest.” 

Your hand flew up to the collar of your shirt, your nails gently dragging along the exposed skin as you tried to imagine what it would feel like. How many nights would you cry yourself to sleep from the pain? 

“Do you know what the flowers mean, my angel?” Pastor asked. He began pointing to each flower as he explained their reasoning, “The sunflower, it’s your devotion to God. The calla lily and roses represent beauty; yours as well as His Lambs. Daisies, for your innocence. The dogwood flowers represent eternal life, which is what you give to those Lambs that ask for your help. This is thistle, and it represents earthly sorrow, which is what their loved ones still feel. And laurel, to represent their memory. Do you like it, Angel?” 

You nodded. 

“The Lord wants us to create a ceremony for those that want help going to Him. It will allow people to say goodbye to those they love, and finally go home. I think you’re going to like it. I’m so proud of you, my angel. You’re growing into such a beautiful young woman.”

Pastor kissed your temple and hesitated for much longer than you anticipated. 

“The tattoo artist will come get you in a few moments, okay? Just pray through the pain.” 

------------------------------

Pray through the pain. Pray through the discomfort. Pray through the fear. So many prayers and none of them ever calmed the storm inside of you. You wondered if the woman who was being rolled down the aisle in the sanctuary was scared. 

Olive was her name. She was young, much younger than anyone you had visited with Pastor. A bad bout of breast cancer that quickly took over her body that left her with a couple months to live when she should have her whole life ahead of her. 

She had been in Angel’s Paradise for about a month, settling into the “visitor’s apartments” as Pastor called it, with her sister. Olive enjoyed listening to you practice the piano and often helped you with your math homework.

Olive was being pushed by her sister in a wheelchair adorned with flowers and ribbons. Residents of Angel’s Paradise fell over themselves to give her flowers or to lay hands on her from the pews, sending up prayers that she will finally be comfortable and at peace. Her sister helped her from the wheelchair to a bed that was set up on the altar, the stained glass version of you staring down at her, a silent promise it would all be over soon. Olive took the flowers she was given and laid them on her chest, smiling as Pastor began a little sermon about death and eternal life in Heaven. 

Your piano tutor played a quiet processional as Pastor began a prayer, asking the Lord to guide your hand and bring his sweet Lamb home. You took a deep breath and started yet another prayer yourself, begging for peace before the large wooden doors opened. The residents gasped at the sight of you. Dressed in a flowing white gown, you looked like a true angel. The neckline covered the flowers on your chest and came up to a thick collar around your neck, leaving the back bare to show the wings you earned. 

You focused on Olive’s kind face, forgetting about all the other eyes glued to you. She looked so happy, so ready to be put out of her suffering. She was silently encouraging you to do what you were put on this earth to do, to realize the Lord’s gift he blessed you with. 

You suddenly didn’t feel as scared as you were, that peace you craved finally washing over you. 

You stood on the opposite side of the bed so the residents could see you as well as Olive. Pastor asked for her last words and you could tell what she said was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like you heard it. That feeling of being stuck behind a curtain, a veil, began to cover you while you prepared yourself. 

“I’m ready,” made it past the veil, Olive smiling up at you with a slight nod. “Take me home, [Y/N].” 

The rest was a blur, hidden behind the veil that felt like it was getting heavier with each soul you sent home. Pastor took your hand and walked you out of the sanctuary, pushing you toward your room to change for the funeral. 

------------------------------

You never liked funerals, but who did? Some were more fun than others, more a celebration of the person’s life and not about mourning their death. You hoped Olive’s funeral would be more like the former, but it never really mattered. You had a job to fulfill, a job the Lord gave you and you couldn’t let your Father down. 

You thanked the Pastor’s wife for her help getting you into the grand black ball gown you were to wear for the actual funeral. It was a classic mourning dress, but it did have a lower neckline to feature the flowers on your chest instead of the feathers on your back.

You ran downstairs to try to find the black lace veil you were supposed to wear to cover your face, hoping you left it on Pastor’s desk from when he gave it to you. You stopped short when you heard your mother’s voice. 

“Really, that much?” 

“Maybe we can find a reason to go on a trip. How does Hawaii sound?” 

Your mother just giggled. 

“I’ll get you a little bikini…” 

“Oh stop it!” 

“Fine, something skimpy just for me…” 

You knocked on the door and slowly pushed it open, noticing your mom smoothing out her skirt as she moved away from the desk. 

“I think I left my veil,” you said cautiously. 

“Oh, yes, my angel.” Pastor smiled and walked over to you, carefully pinning the veil into your hair with the utmost care. “Look at you…” Pastor lifted your chin so you would look at him, brushing his fingers against your jaw before finally letting go. “Come, my angel. It’s time to put Sister Olive’s body to rest. You did so good, my angel. The Lord is so proud of you.” 

------------------------------

It had been over a week since the Hargreeves brothers had seen [Y/N] last. Klaus went by the jewelry store a few times and that bitch Lisa just angrily told him she hadn’t seen her either and then kicked him out. He went by the thrift shop, the bar, the corner store,and she was nowhere to be found. Klaus had, of course, gone by her apartment at least once a day, knocking on the door until his knuckles started to bruise. 

“I’m gonna try to get through the door.”

“C’mon, Ben,” Klaus groaned, sitting against her door with a cigarette between his lips. “We both know I’m not sober enough for any ghost tricks.” 

“You might not be, but I can feel her,” Ben informed Klaus, jumping up and down like he was going to run a marathon. “[Y/N] just has this… Pull. I think I can do it.” 

Klaus just waved his hand. “Go for it. If you get stuck, it’s not my fault.” 

Ben nodded and ran toward the door in a full sprint, his body hitting the door full force. Who knew a ghost could be in physical pain? He laid on the ground beside Klaus groaning while his brother laughed.

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“I am allowed to laugh. You laugh when I fall down drunk.” 

Another groan from the ghost. “Fuck you, asshole.” He sat up with a huff, staring at the door. Maybe her energy allowed him to be solid, like when she touched him? Either way, he wasn’t getting in the way he planned. “Any ideas?” 

“Why am I always the idea guy?” 

“Because you’re dumb enough to come up with something I can work with.” 

“Maybe I can call Diego to pick the lock.” 

“Can’t you pick locks?” 

“Hm?” 

“We all learned how to pick locks, dumbass!” 

“Then why couldn’t you have suggested that sooner, Ben?!” 

“I don’t know, Klaus, it’s only been over a decade since I’ve done it!” 

“Will you two shut the fuck up if I let you in?!” 

Klaus and Ben looked up to see [Y/N] in the doorway, looking angrier than they had ever seen her. 

She didn’t wait for an answer, pushing herself off the door frame to allow the brothers inside. The apartment looked so much different than the other times they had come by. Where the records and plants were, cork boards with people’s pictures took their place. Scattered on the tables and ground were open books with bookmarks sticking out and writings in the margins. Klaus recognized some of the symbols from that one time he dated the head witch of a coven he joined for the orgies. There was a pentagram painted in the middle of the floor, surrounded by white and black candles where [Y/N] had clearly been working just moments before. 

“What in the Scooby Doo is all this shit?” 

[Y/N] sighed as she looked around what used to be her living room. “So I might be in some trouble.” 

TAG LIST Message or comment to be added! 

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[timeless-hollywood-classics]

Richard Ewing Powell (November 14, 1904 – January 2, 1963) was an American singer, actor, voice actor, film producer, film director and studio head. Though he came to stardom as a musical comedy performer, he showed versatility, and successfully transformed into a hardboiled leading man starring in projects of a more dramatic nature. He was the first actor to portray the private detective Philip Marlowe on screen.

Powell was born the middle son of three boys in Mountain View, the seat of Stone County in northern Arkansas. His brothers were Luther (the eldest), and Howard (the youngest). The family moved the boys to Little Rock in 1914, where Powell sang in church choirs and with local orchestras, and started his own band. Powell attended the former Little Rock College, before he started his entertainment career as a singer with the Royal Peacock Band which toured throughout the Midwest.

During this time, he married Mildred Maund, a model, but she found being married to an entertainer not to her liking. After a final trip to Cuba together, Mildred moved to Hemphill, Texas, and the couple divorced in 1932. Later, Powell joined the Charlie Davis Orchestra, based in Indianapolis. He recorded a number of records with Davis and on his own, for the Vocalion label in the late 1920s.

Powell moved to Pittsburgh, where he found great local success as the Master of Ceremonies at the Enright Theater and the Stanley Theater.

In April 1930, Warner Bros. bought Brunswick Records, which at that time owned Vocalion. Warner Bros. was sufficiently impressed by Powell's singing and stage presence to offer him a film contract in 1932. He made his film debut as a singing bandleader in Blessed Event.[4]

He was borrowed by Fox Film to support Will Rogers in Too Busy to Work (1932). He was a boyish crooner, the sort of role he specialised in for the next few years. Back at Warners he supported George Arliss in The King's Vacation, then was in 42nd Street (both 1933), playing the love interest for Ruby Keeler. The film was a massive hit.

Warners got him to basically repeat the role in Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), another big success. So too was Footlight Parade (1933), with Keeler and James Cagney.

Powell was upped to star for College Coach (1933), then went back to more ensemble pieces including 42nd Street, Convention City (both 1933), Wonder Bar, Twenty Million Sweethearts, and Dames (all 1934).[3]

Happiness Ahead was more of a star vehicle for Powell, as was Flirtation Walk (both 1934). He was top-billed in Gold Diggers of 1935 and Broadway Gondolier (both 1935), both with Joan Blondell. He supported Marion Davies in Page Miss Glory (1935), made for Cosmopolitan Pictures, a production company financed by Davies' lover William Randolph Hearst, who released through Warners.

Warners gave him a change of pace, casting him as Lysander in A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935).

More typical was Shipmates Forever (1935) with Keeler. 20th Century Fox borrowed him for Thanks a Million (1935); back at Warners, he did Colleen (1936) with Keeler and Blondell. Powell was reunited with Marion Davies in another for Cosmopolitan, Hearts Divided (1936), playing Napoleon's brother.

He made two films with Blondell, Stage Struck (1936) and Gold Diggers of 1937 (1937). 20th Century Fox then borrowed him again for On the Avenue (1937).

Back at Warners, he appeared in The Singing Marine, Varsity Show (both 1937), Hollywood Hotel, Cowboy from Brooklyn, Hard to Get, Going Places (all 1938), and Naughty but Nice (1939). Fed up with the repetitive nature of these roles, Powell left Warner Bros and went to work for Paramount Pictures.

At Paramount, he and Blondell were cast together again, in the drama I Want a Divorce (1940). Then Powell got a chance to appear in another non-musical, Christmas in July (1940), a screwball comedy which was the second feature directed by Preston Sturges.

Universal borrowed him to support Abbott and Costello in In the Navy (1941), one of the most popular films of 1941. At Paramount he had a cameo in Star Spangled Rhythm and co-starred with Mary Martin in Happy Go Lucky (both 1943). He supported Dorothy Lamour in Riding High (1943).

He was in a fantasy comedy directed by René Clair, It Happened Tomorrow then went over to MGM to appear opposite Lucille Ball in Meet the People (both 1944), which was a box office flop.

During this period, Powell starred in the musical programme Campana Serenade, which was broadcast on NBC radio (1942–1943) and CBS radio (1943–1944).

By 1944, Powell felt he was too old to play romantic leading men anymore,[citation needed] so he lobbied to play the lead in Double Indemnity. He lost out to Fred MacMurray, another Hollywood nice guy. MacMurray's success, however, fueled Powell's resolve to pursue projects with greater range.

Powell's career changed dramatically when he was cast in the first of a series of films noir, as private detective Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet, directed by Edward Dmytryk at RKO. The film was a big hit, and Powell had successfully reinvented himself as a dramatic actor. He was the first actor to play Marlowe – by name – in motion pictures. (Hollywood had previously adapted some Marlowe novels, but with the lead character changed.) Later, Powell was the first actor to play Marlowe on radio, in 1944 and 1945, and on television, in a 1954 episode of Climax! Powell also played the slightly less hard-boiled detective Richard Rogue in the radio series Rogue's Gallery beginning in 1945.

In 1945, Dmytryk and Powell reteamed to make the film Cornered, a gripping, post-World War II thriller that helped define the film noir style.

For Columbia, he played a casino owner in Johnny O'Clock (1947) and made To the Ends of the Earth (1948). In 1948, he stepped out of the brutish type when he starred in Pitfall, a film noir in which a bored insurance company worker falls for an innocent but dangerous woman, played by Lizabeth Scott.

He broadened his range appearing in a Western, Station West (1948), and a French Foreign Legion tale, Rogues' Regiment (1949). He was a Mountie in Mrs. Mike (1950).

From 1949 to 1953, Powell played the lead role in the NBC radio theater production Richard Diamond, Private Detective. His character in the 30-minute weekly was a likable private detective with a quick wit. Many episodes ended with Detective Diamond having an excuse to sing a little song to his date, showcasing Powell's vocal abilities. Many of the episodes were written by Blake Edwards. When Richard Diamond came to television in 1957, the lead role was portrayed by David Janssen, who did no singing in the series. Prior to the Richard Diamond series, he starred in Rogue's Gallery. He played Richard Rogue, private detective. The Richard Diamond tongue-in-cheek persona developed in the Rogue series.

Powell took a break from tough-guy roles in The Reformer and the Redhead (1950), opposite wife June Allyson. Then it was back to tougher movies: Right Cross (1950), a boxing film, with Allyson; Cry Danger (1951), as an ex con; The Tall Target (1951), at MGM directed by Anthony Mann, playing a detective who tries to prevent the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

He returned to comedy with You Never Can Tell (1951). He had a good role in MGM's popular melodrama, The Bad and the Beautiful (1952). His final film performance was in a romantic comedy Susan Slept Here (1954) for director Frank Tashlin.

Even when he appeared in lighter fare such as The Reformer and the Redhead and Susan Slept Here (1954), he never sang in his later roles. The latter, his final onscreen appearance in a feature film, did include a dance number with co-star Debbie Reynolds.

By this stage Powell had turned director. His feature debut was Split Second (1953) at RKO Pictures. He followed it with The Conqueror (1956), coproduced by Howard Hughes starring John Wayne as Genghis Khan. The exterior scenes were filmed in St. George, Utah, downwind of U.S. above-ground atomic tests. The cast and crew totaled 220, and of that number, 91 had developed some form of cancer by 1981, and 46 had died of cancer by then, including Powell and Wayne.

He directed Allyson opposite Jack Lemmon in You Can't Run Away from It (1956). Powell then made two war films at Fox with Robert Mitchum, The Enemy Below (1957) and The Hunters (1958).

In the 1950s, Powell was one of the founders of Four Star Television, along with Charles Boyer, David Niven, and Ida Lupino. He appeared in and supervised several shows for that company. Powell played the role of Willie Dante in Four Star Playhouse, in episodes entitled "Dante's Inferno" (1952), "The Squeeze" (1953), "The Hard Way" (1953), and "The House Always Wins" (1955). In 1961, Howard Duff, husband of Ida Lupino, assumed the Dante role in a short-lived NBC adventure series Dante, set at a San Francisco nightclub called "Dante's Inferno".

Powell guest-starred in numerous Four Star programs, including a 1958 appearance on the Duff-Lupino sitcom Mr. Adams and Eve. He appeared in 1961 on James Whitmore's legal drama The Law and Mr. Jones on ABC. In the episode "Everybody Versus Timmy Drayton", Powell played a colonel having problems with his son. Shortly before his death, Powell sang on camera for the final time in a guest-star appearance on Four Star's Ensign O'Toole, singing "The Song of the Marines", which he first sang in his 1937 film The Singing Marine. He hosted and occasionally starred in his Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theater on CBS from 1956–1961, and his final anthology series, The Dick Powell Show on NBC from 1961 through 1963; after his death, the series continued through the end of its second season (as The Dick Powell Theater), with guest hosts.

Powell was the son of Ewing Powell and Sallie Rowena Thompson.

He married three times:

Mildred Evelyn Maund (b. 1906, d. 1967). The couple married in 1925, and appear on the 1930 census in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where Powell was working in a theater, and on a 1931-passenger list for the SS Oriente, returning from Havana, Cuba. They divorced in 1932, although Mildred retained her married name.

Joan Blondell (married September 19, 1936, divorced 1944). He adopted her son from a previous marriage, Norman Powell, who later became a television producer; the couple also had one child together, Ellen Powell.

June Allyson (August 19, 1945, until his death, January 2, 1963), with whom he had two children, Pamela (adopted) and Richard Powell, Jr.

Powell's ranch-style house was used for exterior filming on the ABC TV series, Hart to Hart. Powell was a friend of Hart to Hart actor Robert Wagner and producer Aaron Spelling. The estate, known as Amber Hills, is on 48 acres in the Mandeville Canyon section of Brentwood, Los Angeles.

Powell enjoyed general aviation as a private pilot.

On September 27, 1962, Powell acknowledged rumors that he was undergoing treatment for cancer. The disease was originally diagnosed as an allergy, with Powell first experiencing symptoms while traveling East to promote his program. Upon his return to California, Powell's personal physician conducted tests and found malignant tumors on his neck and chest.

The marker on Dick Powell's niche in Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Glendale, California incorrectly identifies his year of death as 1962. Powell died at the age of 58 on January 2, 1963. His body was cremated and his remains were interred in the Columbarium of Honor at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California. In a 2001 interview with Larry King, Powell's widow June Allyson stated that the cause of death was lung cancer due to his chain smoking.

It has been speculated that Powell developed cancer as a result of his participation in the film The Conqueror, which was filmed at St. George, Utah, near a site used by the U.S. military for nuclear testing. As well as Powell, who directed the film, about a third of the actors who participated in the film developed cancer, including John Wayne and Susan Hayward.

During the 15th Primetime Emmy Awards on May 26, 1963, the Television Academy presented a posthumous Television Academy Trustee Award to Dick Powell for his contributions to the industry. The award was accepted by two of his former partners in Four Star Television, Charles Boyer and David Niven.

Dick Powell has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 6915 Hollywood Blvd.

[everydayeveryday]

Reflections Of A Man by Soul, Mr. Amari

"When a man complains of your standards being too high, it is usually because he’s used to dealing with women who have none.”

“He could be a “good man” and still not be the “right man” for you.”

“You could be doing everything right: working, cooking, cleaning, great sex…everything. But if it’s for the wrong man, that still won’t be enough to keep him.”

“Remember this: a good man can’t be kept and the wrong man isn’t worth keeping. So then you may ask, “What does a woman have to do to keep a man?” The answer is this…let go of the idea that it is within your power to keep him and focus more on finding a good man that loves and respects you enough to want to stay; therein lies the secret.

You see, you could be doing all the right things, but if that man doesn’t love, respect, and appreciate you and the things you do, it will all be for nothing.”

“Abusive men, however, are like cancer to you. You have to identify their type early on and cut them out of your life. Whether it’s mental, physical, or emotional abuse, please understand that his only purpose is to eat away at you until there’s nothing left.”

“Whatever you do, never chase a man. Why? Because it’ll make him emotionally lazy and he will feel like he doesn’t have to do anything to meet your emotional needs.”

“If one or the other is weak, the relationship suffers. In other words, it defeats the purpose for you to try to build a relationship with a broken man whose intent is only to tear you down.”

“A weak man is incapable of sweeping you off your feet. Why? Because he doesn’t have the emotional strength to lift your spirit.”

“Just because you ask a question, doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t trust him; some things, just by being in the relationship, you have a right to know.”

“They say, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” but I disagree. What you don’t know can and will hurt you. And the longer it takes for you to find out, the more it will hurt you in the end.”

“When the trust is gone, everything else will soon follow.”

“Trust is not a one-time thing; it’s a constant work in progress.”

“Think about it; every man who has ever cheated on you, at some point, you considered him to be trustworthy.”

“If he loves and respects you, he won’t cheat. If he does cheat, one or both of the above is missing.”

“Cheating is never an accident; it is a conscious decision.”

“When a man cheats on a woman, it’s not so much the physical act that hurts her; it’s the feeling of her being emotionally betrayed by the one person she loved and trusted to never to do such a thing…that’s what hurts the most.”

“There are times when people change and it’s up to you as to whether or not you believe their change is enough for you to take them back. However, don’t let loneliness, or the fact that you miss them, cloud your judgment to the point where you find yourself back in the same bad relationship you just got out of.”

“Sometimes, him being the wrong man isn’t the real problem. The real problem is you deciding to give him a chance, knowing he’s the wrong man, thinking you can change him.”

“True love is an exciting experience…one that should never cause you to feel emotionally lonely.”

“If ever there comes a time when you feel emotionally lonely in a relationship, it may be because what was…no longer is.”

“Have you ever felt like your heart had been ripped right out of your chest… like when they walked out the door, they took with them your very last breath?”

“One of the most disappointing things that you, as a woman, could ever go through is to fall in love with a man that can’t love and respect you because he hasn’t learned to love and respect himself yet.”

“A woman’s tears don’t necessarily come from one heartbreak, but rather they come from the accumulation of years of heartbreak and the frustration that you feel after putting everything you have into your relationships, day after day, month after month, and year after year, and still ending up with the same heartbreaking results.”

“Breaking up can be quite the emotional roller coaster ride. Just know, when the ride is over and you’ve gotten it all out of your system…it’s okay to move on.”

“For in you is the power to endure and the strength to carry on.”

“So blessed is the smile of the strong woman because after all you’ve been through, you’ve finally found your own happiness and that smile represents the new you.”

“The ones that are the hardest to get over are often the ones that teach you the greatest lesson.”

“The past is what it is; you can’t change it. What you can do is learn from it and use that to make better decisions in the future.”

“If you can’t see the beauty of your life from where you are now, remove the obstacles in front of you and look again.”

“As long as you hold on to your anger for the wrong man of the past, he will forever have control over your ability to be happy in the future.”

“you’re not only a one in a million…you’re a once in a lifetime.”

“Just a reminder, no matter what you are going through, love yourself first and you will always be loved;”

“In my opinion, there are mainly three types of people who would criticize you for having a strong wall around your heart: Those that are too lazy to work for your love, those that have never been through the lesson, and those that have been through it but still haven’t learned.”

“A strong woman is self-defined. She knows that the only definition of her that matters is her own.”

“Be strong… Be patient. The right man is out there searching relentlessly, through all the nonsense, looking for you. Give him time.”

“Don’t ever think that you will avoid being disappointed by lowering your standards for a man. In the end, not only will you still be disappointed by him, but you will also be disappointed in yourself for ever having lowered your standards in the first place.”

“In your relationship, never settle for less than what you deserve. At the same time, never think you deserve more out of a relationship than you are willing to put into it."

“The most important impression a man can make on you is not the first impression, but rather a lasting impression that only comes from consistency over time.”

“Be more selective and patient. Knowing that most men will say anything means that you can’t believe everything. Remember, without consistent actions, over time, his words have no value.”

“Make sure you don’t break yourself, trying to fix a man that is already broken.”

“There are some things you can help a man with and there are some things only he alone can fix.”

“Never waste your time trying to convince someone else of your worth. If they can’t see it, they are not worth the effort.”

“The beautiful thing about the ones who truly love us is that they are always able to see our worth, even when we doubt it ourselves.”

“Don’t be fooled by a man’s words and his inconsistent actions. Instead, look for consistency over a long period of time because, if you think about it, every “wrong” man, that you ever dated, seemed like the “right” man in the beginning.”

“When you have to rely on yesterday’s happiness in a relationship, to get you through today, it might be time to move on.”

“memories are in the past and if that’s all your relationship has, it might not have a future.”

“The best sex in the world, without love, still won’t fill that void. It’s a quick fix and you won’t realize it until you wake up the next morning and realize you’re still alone.”

“Ladies, stop grading these men on a curve. Either he meets your standards or he doesn’t; stop making excuses for him!”

“They say, “Love doesn’t cost a thing,” but I disagree because falling in love with the wrong person could cost you everything.”

“The right man won’t want you to lower your standards; he would rather push himself to meet or exceed them.”

“The right man will take pride in your happiness. He knows that the happier you are, the happier he will be.”

“It’s about him being the first one you come to in all your major decisions. To him, the most valuable thing in his life is being the most valuable person in yours.”

“Don’t lose her because you allow your ego to become bigger than your heart.”

“best memories are often made from the smaller things”

“As long as you love him and he loves you and you both are fully committed to making it work, nothing or no one can ever come between you.”

“When things get hard, don’t just give up without trying; it’s those hard times that often help define the true strength of the relationship.”

“All I ask is that you take a moment and ask yourself what love means to you. Once you have your answer, you’ll know exactly what kind of love you’d be willing to accept from someone else.”

“If you are going to love her, give her 100% or nothing at all. Anything less and you are, not only cheating her, but you are cheating yourself as well.”

“If she decides to give you a second chance, it’s usually not because you deserve it; but rather because she still believes in you and the idea that love, if given the chance, will somehow prevail in the end.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

Death Bed (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

This was inspired by the song Death Bed by Powfu! I’ve had this in my head for so long and it’s probably my favorite thing I’ve worked on. I really hope y’all enjoy it! Please leave a comment with some feedback they make my day!!!

Warnings: Cancer, talk of character death, angst, sad ending.

Summary: The reader has been diagnosed with stage 4 terminal cancer. After hearing the news she stops treatment with plans of living out the rest of her days with Sebastian.

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Sebastian wasn’t happy when I decided to stop treatment. It took both me and the doctor to explain to him that it wasn’t going to do any good. But for a man who decided to put a ring on his girls finger just two weeks before that initial doctors trip, I can understand how that could be hard to hear. 

So that’s how we ended up here, still in bed, at noon. Sheets disheveled and me laying directly on top of Seb.

I don’t wanna fall asleep, I don’t wanna pass away. I’ve been thinking of our future cause I’ll never see those days...

“I feel like we need to get up and eat eventually,” I said breaking the silence. 

“But that would require moving,” He said.

“I know you’re hungry, I can feel your stomach rumbling,” I smiled. 

He contemplated his next words, almost deciding if he should let me be right or hold his ground. 

“I’m hungry,” he blatantly stated.

“Hi hungry I’m dad,” I said craning my neck up at him to see his reaction. 

“I hate you,” He laughed.

“No, you love me,” I said setting my head on his chest again. Another long silence of contentment ensued.

I don’t know why this has has happened, but I probably deserve it. 

“How could this happen?” He stated “Why? Why you?”

“I’ve always had the worst luck in life. I probably deserve it.”

He grabbed my chin so I would look at him. With glassed over eyes he said.

“No, not you. Never you,”

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I laid in bed as Seb made blueberry pancakes, our breakfast had turned into more of a brunch. It was almost always brunch these days. On my good days when I had the energy I would try and help but there were times he would make me sit down and watch. I think it made him feel better to take care of me and I wasn’t going to take that from him. 

I been praying for forgiveness, you’ve been praying for my health. When I leave this earth hoping you’ll find someone else. ‘Cause yeah we’re still young there’s so much we haven’t done, getting married, start a family, watch your wife with her son.

“So you have any other women lined up for yourself when I finally kick the bucket?” I asked yelled out jokingly.

He walked in with a tray full of our food.

“You really think I’m thinking about that shit? I just put a ring on that finger a couple months ago!” He said sliding into bed next to me.

“You should be thinking about it! Who is going to take care of you when I’m gone huh? Mackie?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out!” he laughed. 

I leaned up against his chest and he sighed, running a hand thorough my hair.

“I’m never going to be able to move on from you y/n,” he said in a more serious tone.

“You have to Seb. All we’ve talked about these last three years is settling down, getting married and having kids. I still want that for you,”

“I talked about those things with you though y/n. I wanted it all with you.” he said 

I wish it could be me but I won’t make it out this bed, I hope I go to heaven so I see you once again

“I wanted to be your wife so bad,” I said feeling my heart brake.

“Who says you can’t be?” He perked up causing me to sit up and look at him. “Let’s round everyone up right now, anyone who can make it. Who says we need a caterer and a DJ? Let’s get married today!” 

“Sebastian Stan I love you,” I smiled planting a kiss on his lips. 

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It was the perfect wedding. Chris was in town and Anthony booked a last minute flight in order to get there. Paul Hauser, Seb’s I Tonya co-star made it as well as some of my old co-stars and Sebastians mother. We bought a cake from the supermarket down the street and signed the marriage certificate at NYC City Hall and called every preacher in town before we had to convince Paul to get his five minute minister license online. Sebastian even bought me a dress.

We ended up having the perfect wedding in our apartment. We partied all night with friends and family and ate shitty supermarket cake. Mackie sang Baby Got Back for us and Chris cried giving a toast. 

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Sebastian started, “I’d like to make a toast and this one might be a tear jerker so someone hand Evans a tissue box,”

Everyone laughed and I moved over to give him a side hug.

“It’s no secret as to why we’re here today and I’d like to say thank you to everyone who came. I know it was last minute, but I’ve wanted to marry this woman for a few years now and there was no way I was letting it slip away from me.” he said looking at me “When I look back at this day I’ll always remember how beautiful you looked and how good it felt to hear you say I do. You’re so strong, brave and beautiful baby and I love you so much. I don’t know how much longer we have left, but I know it’s never going to be enough. So this ones for you Mrs. Stan. You made me the happiest man alive.” He said raising his glass.

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“Hey Mrs. Sebastian Stan can you turn off the light?” said Seb as I walked out of the bathroom towards the bed. I stepped over the discarded white dress and black tux to flip the switch and then I slid into bed next to my husband. We laid on our sides facing each other just noses apart.

“Are you gonna call me that all night?” I asked.

“Of course I am! You’re finally my wife,” He smiled.

“I have been wanting that last name for a while,” I smirked sliding into bed next to him.

“Mrs. Sebastian Stan did you enjoy our wedding?” He asked ever so sweetly 

 “I don’t think a wedding planner could’ve done any better. I never wanted it to end,” 

“I didn’t either,” 

“Well it’s a good thing we’re on the same page my dear husband because the wedding night is just beginning!” I smiled pulling him into a kiss. 

 My life was kinda short, but I got so many blessings. Happy you were mine, it sucks that it’s all ending

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“Can you pass me that pillow?” I asked holding a corner of my favorite blanket up on one of the dining room chairs.

Sebastian passed it over finishing his side and I smooshed the pillow on the blanket holding it in place. 

“I’m gonna grab the snacks,” I said standing up and running to the pantry. When I got back Sebastian was already inside our little blanket fort. 

I lifted up a blanket and slipped inside where he was sitting on our mattress. 

“Did you get my peanut butter?” He asked.

“How could I ever forget,” I said holding it up. “I even grabbed my special touch.” I said holding up the bag of chocolate chip cookies we made earlier.

“God I love you,” He said grabbing the peanut butter while I snuggled into his side. 

“I love you too baby,” 

“So what are we watching?”

“Funny Girl?” I asked shyly. I had made him see it a thousand times.

“Again?” 

“Seb I’m dying, like literally dying,” I whined knowing it always worked on him.

“You can’t keep using the ‘I have terminal cancer’ card! It’s not fair!” He laughed pulling up Funny Girl on the laptop. “This is the last time!”

“Okay last time I promise,” I said curling up with him opening the peanut butter.

That was a promise I intended to keep. I knew my time was coming soon. I could feel myself getting more and more tired everyday. As I laid there watching my favorite movie on Seb I felt my eyes water, simply because I wondered if this would be the last time I saw it. At least I finally got to be Sadie Sadie married lady just like Fanny.

I’m happy that you’re here with me I’m sorry if I tear up...

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I was laying in bed nose to nose with Seb after our movie. Bellies full from finishing a whole jar of peanut butter and cookies. 

“What am I gonna do when I don’t have you here to make me watch Funny Girl or Meet Me in St. Louis” he stated.

“I’ll torment you from beyond the grave and make sure all the song’s get stuck in your head so you have no choice but to watch them,” I giggled.

“You are evil!” he said tickling my sides starting a war as I tried to break free from his hold.

When the tickle fights stopped we ended right where we started nose to nose in silence. We both ended up just staring at each other. Perhaps taking one another in. His eyes started to go glassy.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” He said breaking down into tears and pulling me towards him so he was crying into my chest.

 It was times like this when my chin sat on his head and I could feel him crying that I wanted to cry with him. But I couldn’t I had to be strong for him. This time he was making it really hard. So I wrapped my arms around his head and ran my fingers through his hair.

“Shhhhh it’s okay I’m here baby. I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere for a while,” I cooed.

 I couldn’t tell if I was talking to him or me. Conceivably both of us. As I tried to tell him that I wasn’t going anywhere I was trying to convince myself of the same thing. The thing is these days I’m just not sure anymore. 

The phrase “You don’t have as much time as you think you do” was becoming very real right now and I wasn’t sure I would have enough time to bring Sebastian peace before I go.

...Mondays watched a movie. Soon you’ll be alone, sorry that you have to lose me. 

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I woke up around 11 the next morning and rolled over to see Sebastian still sleeping. I tried to take a mental picture of how he looked. Snuggling the pillow with one arm, the other draped around me. Pretty eyelashes, deep breaths and hair going two different directions.

“Good morning,” he mumbled opening his eyes. 

“Morning baby,” I said running my hand through his hair. 

He pulled me towards him so I was laying on his chest. 

“We should go walk around the city,” He started “I heard it was going to be a beautiful day. We could go grab some dinner and eat it in the park and maybe go to a show and eat at that ice cream shop you like with the frozen hot chocolate,” 

My heart broke because I could tell this was a day he planned when he woke up at some random time last night. His midnight ideas were always his best and they were always the ones he was most excited about. Unfortunately I was super tired and weak today.

“I’m sorry baby. That sounds like the best day ever but I’m not feeling my best today. Maybe if I feel better though we can go out later tonight!” I said trying to give him a little something to hold on to.

“No I can tell you’re not feeling well. Let’s stay here so you can get some rest.” he said adjusting himself so he was more comfortable.

Within a few minutes I was asleep again. 

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I woke up to an empty spot where Sebastian used to be.

“yeah man I’m sorry I know I’ve been slacking,” 

I could hear him in the living room talking on the phone. It was Don calling him again to see if he was ever going to come back to the gym. I had tried to tell him I didn’t mind if he wanted to go, but he never listened. Ever since I stopped chemo he stopped going to workout with Don. He says its so he can spend more time with me but I wish he would still go. When I’m gone I want him to have something constant in his life that isn’t about me.

“I just can’t leave her man, she’s getting worse and worse every day. I feel like I only have a few more weeks left- Yeah I know call you if I need anything- thanks a lot man, bye,” he said hanging up the phone. I heard him walk towards the bedroom so I pretended to just have woken up.

“Hey baby,” I said with a fake stretch.

“Hey hun you slept good! It’s four o’clock!” he said sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Damn I was tired,” I said rubbing my eyes 

“How about I make some dinner?” he asked moving a stray hair out of my face.

“That sounds good!” 

“Alright doll I’ll go get started,” he said kissing my temple before he left.

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After our delicious spaghetti dinner we watched a movie of Sebs choice which ended up being When Harry Met Sally and then went to bed. 

I woke up with the most energy I’ve had in a while. I immediately remembered Sebastian’s plan for yesterday and was hoping he would still be game today.

“Seba” I said softly running my finger down the bridge of his nose. “Seba wake up,” 

He scrunched his nose as he always did when I woke him up this way and eventually opened his eyes.

“Babe lets go do all the things you planned yesterday! It’s only 9 o’clock we can still get breakfast!” I said excitedly.

“I don’t know y/n yesterday you couldn’t even get out of bed and now you have this burst of energy. Maybe we should stay in the apartment again.” He said stretching. 

“Sebby please! Its so beautiful out and it’s supposed to rain the rest of week! I need out of this apartment!” I said dawning my best pair of puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, but you have to tell me if you’re not feeling good,” he surrendered.

I immediately jumped out of bed to start getting ready. 

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We were walking in the park trying to find that perfect spot by the central park boat house. When we were almost there we saw a street performer who was doing a magic show and I just had to stop and watch. What I didn’t notice was Sebastian going back to the flower stand we passed on our way here. I turned around I saw him exchanging money for flowers. The man handed him a big bouquet of my favorite flowers, pink peonies and roses. I know he wanted to be smooth about giving them to me but I could help but get excited right away. 

“Baby!” I exclaimed walking towards him. “What’s all this for?” I asked.

“What I can’t buy my wife flowers?” He smiled handing them to me. 

“This is why I fell in love with you, the little things.” I said reaching up to give him a little kiss on the cheek.

We continued our walk towards our favorite spot. It’s the best picnic place in the park. A little area cut out of bushes and shrubs with a big oak tree you can lean against and watch the boats come in and out of the boathouse. 

This is where we always had our picnics. He sat down and opened up the brown paper sac that we packed with bread, cheese, strawberries and of course wine. As we ate I leaned against him and watched life pass around me.

“You know, ever since the doctor told me I was dying I started noticing the timeline of everything around me.” I stated.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Seb.

“Well for example that butterfly over there will probably only live for a few more months, but that boat that couple is rowing in might be used for years and years to come.” 

“What about me? How long do I have?” 

I paused and sat up so I could face him.

“You’re going to do so many amazing things baby. You’re gonna get the Oscar I always wanted,” I said sincerely.

“How do you know?”

“I just do,”

The rest of our day was spent wondering around the park until we went to see The Phantom Of The Opera on broadway, my favorite and yet another surprise from Sebastian. We ended up going to Serendipity for frozen hot chocolate after.

“I don’t know why but I still cry every time I see that show,” I said taking another sip of my drink.

“It’s because you always sympathize with the phantom,” he said.

“I just feel bad for him,” 

I looked outside and saw that it was pouring rain and I suddenly remembered something I’ve always wanted to do.

“Babe come on!” I said grabbing Sebastian’s hand and running outside.

“What are you doing?  It’s pouring out here, you’re going to get sick! We gotta go back inside!” he said already trying to go back inside.

“No wait!” I yelled over the rain “I’ve always wanted to kiss someone in the rain, ya know like in the movies?” 

“Well you should’ve started with that baby!” He said excitedly blue eyes lighting up.

He used his hand to push the wet hair out of my face and connected our lips. It was everything I wanted it to be. The lights of the city shown around us as we clung to each other and our wet clothes molded together. It was the picture perfect movie moment I had always wanted to live out. 

Looking back that was probably the best last day I could’ve ever asked for. 

The next morning was the definition of “you don’t have as much time as you think you do.” 

I woke up way before Sebastian did, about 7 to be exact. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach that this was it. I took the time to memorize Sebastian's face one more time. Around 8 my thoughts were interrupted by Sebastian’s phone ringing. As he began to stir I looked over to see who it was. It was Don. Before he could ignore the call I leaned over his half asleep form and grabbed his phone so I could answer.

“Hi Don this is y/n!” I said trying to sound as chipper as possible. To which Don proceeded to ask if Sebastian would be coming into the gym today to start training for his next role as Bucky. Sebastian violently shook his head no.

“Yeah he’s coming! He’s making breakfast right now. I’m sure he’ll be over there in a little bit- Talk to you later Don, bye!” I said with a smile.

“Babe I really don’t wanna go to the gym today,” he groaned. 

“I know baby but you’ve been skipping out for too long now. Will you please go? For me? I know you’ll feel so much better if you do,” I chimed.

“Okay, but only for you.” he said rolling out of bed to put on his gym clothes.

“I love you!” I said knowing it might be my last chance to say so.

“I love you too!” He said as he started walking to the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for him to grab a protein bar and tie his shoes.

“Hey Sebby?” I yelled from bed.

“Yes baby?” He said popping his head into the bedroom.

“Can you bring me a coffee on your way home?” I asked.

“Of course,” he smiled.

“Can I have a kiss?” 

He walked over and gave me a short and sweet kiss. A kiss that was far too short.

“I love you so much Sebby! Don’t ever forget it!” I said 

“I love you too darling,” He said with a smile.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

Once again I didn’t have as much time as I thought I did to soak all of him in and say goodbye. But this was the right thing to do.

As soon as the door closed I grabbed a pen and paper off his desk and began to write.

     Sebby,

I’ve written this letter over and over again in my head but never had the courage to put it down on paper. I’ve never been able to get the words right and lord knows I won’t be able to now, but I’m gonna try. When I was a little girl I watched princess movies day and night. Every day I wondered if I’d ever find a prince of my own. I never really believed I would. Not till I met you. You gave me a love I thought only existed in fairytales or movies. You loved me so much and made every day I had left on this earth so amazing. I wish I could give that same gift back to you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I hope one day you can be that for someone else again. You deserve to get all the love you gave me back. Just a few things before I go. Always check your pockets for your headphones before you put them in the wash because I won’t be around anymore to buy you new ones. Make copies of your scripts because you always find a way to spill coffee all over them. The bandaids aren’t in the bathroom they’re in the first aid kit in the closet next to the iron. And above all, I love you so much Sebastian Stan and I always will no matter where I go. You will always be the love of my life. I’ve been all over the world, met so many people and done so many things and I would give them all away for one more moment with you because you, yes you Sebby, were my greatest adventure.

      -I love you so much,

                                      Y/N  (Mrs. Sebastian Stan) 

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I’ve never cried while writing a fic before but I definitely cried during this one. Please leave me a comment below on your thoughts they really help motivate me.

Would any one be interested in a short pt.2/ follow from Sebastian's perspective?

[stylesvolume94]

Keep Your Eyes On Me : pt1

Nobody ever knows when something terrible is going to happen; never truly knows. They can have a hunch or very accurate guess, but not a definite answer. Because something could go extremely right at the last second, or that bad thing could be a blessing in disguise.

This is Brayley's way of thinking. She likes to think the world is a happy place, just misguided; people are not born evil but just need someone to love. Bray never thinks that something unfortunate would happen to her just because or just out of the blue.

Her mother became extremely sick one day, and a trip to the hospital revealed she was in the early stages of cancer. A bad thing happened, but that visit caught the sickness in time, and now her mother is twelve years cancer-free.

Her dream college declined her, the only one she applied to, and by the time she found out, it was too late to apply to another school. A bad thing happened, but that gap year was nothing but productive and adventurous for her.

Bryce, her best friend, got knocked out during his soccer match, and she was his emergency contact who had to visit him in the ER. A bad thing happened, but that's where she met her then-boyfriend, Harry, who accidentally put him there.

Bad things happen, but nobody could ever just predict it. Brayley has stood by this way of thinking her entire life. How could someone just know? They can't; she refuses to believe it.

Of course, until that way of thinking is challenged.

------

"I have to go to the bank," Brayley muttered.

She got a snappy reply. "Then go."

"Seriously, Harry? I'm too tired to fight right now, okay? Please, could you just drive me? I'll be two seconds."

"It takes you five minutes just to get out of the car," Harry grumbled, "It'll take two hours, not two seconds."

"Harry. Please."

At that, Harry huffs a dramatic amount to show Brayley how tired and irritable he was. Nonetheless, he rises from his spot on the couch to retrieve his jacket and boots from the closet by the front door. Brayley followed behind her husband, waddling down the front steps of their walk-up apartment cautiously, as she was eight months pregnant.

When Harry and Brayley got married, they wanted to try for a baby, but they agreed to wait several months to adjust to their new lives and get every bit of paperwork out of the way before bringing a life into the world. Two months later, the pair found out they were four weeks pregnant. Brayley was ecstatic, and Harry was...happy.

He was happy, he'd always wanted to be a father, but the timing didn't feel right. He knew it was his fault that she was with child as she couldn't necessarily do it all herself. Harry just wished he had been more careful. Ever since the baby was announced to the pair, something in their lives seemed off.

Brayley feels alone more often than not, and she hates it. She keeps telling herself that this is the bad with which she is familiar. This is the bad, and the baby's birth in only a few weeks will be the good. She and Harry will be like they used to before the announcement, and he'll finally see how big a blessing their child is.

Brayley awoke with a headache, a sharp pain in her lower back, and a space beside her in bed. Standing under the warm water, she paused mid-shampoo. Brayley felt weird; she felt off. She didn't sense anything wrong physically, but she had a bad feeling.

Something terrible was going to happen. Brayley was positive.

------

"Do you need me to go in with you?" Harry didn't look at his wife as he pulled into a parking space at their banking facility; he kept his eyes forward.

"If you don't mind," Brayley mumbled, "I want to play it safe in case something happens."

"Like what?"

"I don't know...something bad maybe. I don't want to risk anything happening and not have you there with me." At this point, she was desperate. Brayley needed her husband with her; she didn't feel right.

"Since when do you feel that something bad is going to happen?" Harry looked over at his wife for the first time since they left the apartment.

"I don't know. I've never felt this way before, but I just had a feeling when I was in the shower." Bray glanced at Harry through her lashes and curly brown hair.

Harry furrowed his brows at the concern in his wife's voice. "Okay." He acknowledged, undoing his belt and stepping out of the car to open Brayley's door and help her into the building.

------

"How are you today, Mrs. Styles?" The couple's teller was a young woman of pale skin, green eyes, and auburn hair. Brayley always thought she would make a great actress or performer of some type; her features were too beautiful only to be seen in a bank.

"Fine, Beatrice, thank you. And yourself?" Brayley heard Harry sigh at the conversation-starter that she always used, being far too polite to answer with only the one word.

"Great, thanks! Mr. Styles." The fair woman nodded in Harry's direction as she waited for Brayley's information to load on the monitor in front of her.

"Beatrice." His reply was short and chipped; he wasn't in the mood for an hour-long visit.

"Okay, Mrs. Styles, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I had a few questions about my savings account and our joint one. I was wondering..."

Harry had drifted off at the mention of questions; knowing his wife, there were plenty more than 'just a few.' His eyes started to wander around the open space, enjoying how bright and spacious the room was. Harry thinks being cooped up at home, working long hours, and repeating was doing more damage than good, so he was happy to see faces other than just one in particular.

He noticed the windowpanes needed cleaning. The giant rug in the waiting area had its corners dangerously folded over, and finally, that a way-too loud man was scolding his teller for not allowing him to cash a void check.

Harry turned to watch the steady flow of people enter and exit the building. At this point, he had wholly drowned out his wife, though he knows by now that she was on her fifth question while Beatrice was too invested in her job to care.

Harry liked to people watch, so it was only a matter of time before he began observing the crowd. He noticed mostly men in suits walking in and women with young children. Oh, in came a woman with a dog in a stroller; odd.

But what caught Harry's attention was a group of six men in all black attire wearing baseball caps and sunglasses. Two of the men were holding deflated duffle bags, and the other four had their hands in the jacket pockets.

Harry's breath hitched, and his heart skipped at the looks of them, they didn't seem right. The men didn't yell, didn't order for people to get on the ground as Harry expected; they simply walked in and examined the space.

One of the men, substantially built and incredibly tall, removed his hands from his jacket to scratch at the stubble on his chin. That's when Harry noticed the dark, seemingly hard looking object poking from the man's waist. A gun.

The men still hadn't made a noise; they weren't drawing attention to themselves, and Harry wondered; if they were a threat, had they come up with a plan? Were they going to hurt someone, rob the place, scare people into submission?

He wasn't sure. But one thing he was one-hundred percent certain of, was that his wife was next to him in this potentially dangerous situation...and she was carrying his unborn child. When this truth crossed Harry's mind, he slowly turned to his wife, interrupting her question about mortgage payments.

"Oh, okay. So, if, in say, five years from now, we successfully own a house, how would-"

"Brayley." Harry murmured, trying his best to keep his voice low but imperative.

Brayley looked up at her husband. "Sorry, H, I'm almost done. I just have a couple more-"

"Brayley." She immediately stopped talking at the seriousness in his voice. Looking up into his green eyes, she saw fear and urgency flood through them and realized his chest was moving faster than she remembered. Her eyebrows drew together.

Right as Bray was about to ask what was wrong, Harry leaned forward gently, eyes trained on hers, and whispered to his girl in a voice so low, only she could hear, "Keep your eyes on me."