#if that’s true I’m gonna have to take yet another trip to BJ’s and get me a giant jug

[clowningaroundmars]

Just made my own laundry detergent ✌🏼

#girlboss #ecofriendly #homesteading #offthegrid #fuckcapitalism #wellnotreallycuziboughtmostofthestuffatBJ’sandHomesense #butyouknowwhatimean

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 10

10/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey (post-ep) | T (for now?) | 4.5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Missy accompanies Scully to a doctor's appointment. Afterward, Missy confronts Scully about her feelings for Mulder, and Scully slips-up on the phone.

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

She digs through her suitcase, searching for the business card she tucked in the pocket with her underwear. A sharp edge penetrates her skin, stings immediately. Her fingers close around the paper card and pull it out. A thin red cut traces the length of her middle finger, blood begging to seep out. She ignores it and grabs the phone off her nightstand, plugging in the number for the Aubrey Motel. 

As she’s dialing, she realizes that it’s already past lunchtime in DC, and even though Missouri is an hour behind, there’s no way Mulder is in his room. She lets it ring anyway, then asks the man who answers for room 12. He patches her through, and sure enough, the line rings until it gives up. 

Impressed by her own newfound patience, Scully hangs up and dials Mulder’s cell instead. She’s not exactly sure why she didn’t just do this in the first place; maybe she likes the idea of Mulder being stationary without her, stuck in his room like a lost little boy with no one to guide him. Her heart sinks when she thinks about Mulder gallivanting around Aubrey, solving the case like there’s nothing to it, like he could have been doing it by himself all this time. She wants him to need her. Naturally, she is ashamed of this desire.

She hits the call button and waits while an invisible force shoots across states and connects her to her partner. She does not have to wait long; he answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds the same as always. Simultaneously there and drifting, one body split between two minds. 

“Mulder, it’s me.” 

“Hey Scully.” There is a lightness in his voice now, like a balloon cut free of its tether. He is smiling, she thinks...She hopes.

“I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely…” She trails off, not wanting to stop talking to him, but finding herself with nothing else to say. 

“I’m glad, Scully.” He always addresses her by name more when they are apart. This is a comfort to both of them. “How’s Melissa?”

Scully looks through the doorway, confirming that her sister is nowhere near to cause any antics. “She’s alright.” She deals in half-truths. “We’re going to the doctor later to get an x-ray, but I think it’s just a sprain.” 

“Well, keep me updated. I found a lead on the case--Harry Cokely, the suspect of one of the 1945 murders. I’m on my way to see him. He’s been out of jail since ‘93.”

Scully gulps. “Are you alone?”

“Uh-huh.” He senses her tension through the line. “But I’ll be fine, Scully, he’s an old geezer now. What kind of agent am I if I can’t defend myself against an eighty year old?”

“You could have taken BJ with you.”

“And put a pregnant woman in the line of fire? I’ll be fine, Scully. They wouldn’t have let him out if he were still a danger.”

“Okay, Mulder.” This is not what she means, but it has already been a long day, and there is too much left of it to get into an argument with him. 

“I might be able to come back tomorrow,” she blurts out, as if saying it will make it more true. “...I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“Take all the time you need, Scully. I’ve got this.”

She knows he is trying to be accommodating-- though he so rarely is--but his casual manner confirms her worst fears about her own superfluity. “I want to work, Mulder, you know that.”

“I’m not gonna stop you.” Then, his voice uneven, suspecting but not willing to confront--”Just take care of Melissa--and yourself--okay?”

She nods into the phone. “I will.”  She is staring at the barrel of Mulder’s metaphorical gun, knowing he won’t shoot, almost wishing he would. Bleeding out feels like the simple solution. “Bye, Mulder.”

She is leaving so soon, he thinks, grateful to have had her voice accompanying him on the trip. “Bye, Scully. Call the motel tonight, will you?”

“Alright.” She kills the line, each extra second another thorn in her side, a lie allowed to linger. Sin multiplying.

She stands there, clasping the phone in her hand and feeling like a stranger to herself. Her sister thought she should tell him before she flew a thousand miles and let an hour fall between them, and she disobeyed. What Melissa didn’t understand was that vulnerability is not a word in her and Mulder’s shared language. There’s no way to spell out the situation, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t want to at the time. Or rather, she had wanted to so badly that it was dangerous, that she knew she risked more pain by telling than by withholding. She would have had to invent new words in their language, expand its bounds, and who knows what would come next. Give someone the language to express their feelings, and they will say them. And what then?

She is scared of her own feelings--and his too--because she knows that admitting means losing, somewhere down the road, and she doesn’t ever want to be without him. If she had never met him, she would never have to live without him. This is the gun that is always pressed to her head. She and Mulder are both holding the trigger.

She doesn’t know if he has such a gun against his temple, thinks that maybe he doesn’t, hopes so at least. There have been others for him, she knows this. Phoebe and...well, Phoebe’s the only one she’s met, and she wasn’t that impressive. But he’s a good-looking guy, and a good guy at that, and the whispers of a dark-haired woman who broke his heart float up and down the hallways of the Hoover building. He doesn’t tell, and Scully won’t ask because she worries that the mystery woman is the gun he holds against his own head.

She sets the phone back in its receiver, tired of thinking about guns and triggers and brains blown out. For now, she is in one piece--she’s pretty sure--and she would like to stay that way for as long as her soul will let her.

Her sister calls from down the hallway. “Dana, are you ready?”

Scully managed to book a last-minute appointment with her OB-GYN, thanks to Missy’s insistence that it was an emergency. Personally, she wouldn’t use such a strong word--I mean, it’s not like she’s hemorrhaging or anything. It’s the absence of blood that’s the problem. But there are tests, scans, and probing of the like that can be done, and once Scully admitted this her sister would not drop the issue. Off to every woman’s favorite place they go. 

--------

The waiting room is a stepping stone, a purgatory, a beginning and an ending rolled into one. She has been here before, many times. In the past, it felt like an inconvenience, not a threat.

She makes an appointment every year, does everything exactly as she is supposed to do in between, and still she is here and scared. She is careful as careful comes, as prepared as one petite woman alone in the world can be. She can dislocate a jaw, strike a man’s legs out from under him, break a nose. And yet, and yet, and yet...Who first uttered “fairness,” thought it existed on this Earth?

Even so, the consolation of knowing lingers in the distance. Like the minutes between calling 911 and the ambulance arriving. Help is on the way. The nightmare will end, or it will settle in. Lucky or unlucky. Win or lose.

Scully is not sure what she wants to hear. Three tests is quite definitive; pregnancy is unlikely. And what else is there? That her cycle has been thrown off by stress, that it’ll come back on its own time, don’t worry about it? That’s no comfort. She doesn’t want something to be wrong with her, but she knows something’s not right, and what’s worse than knowing that you don’t know? She and Mulder have lived in that hell for years. She can handle mysteries of the outside world, but what a cruel trick for her own body to blockade her. 

Missy nudges her from the adjacent vinyl seat, elbow meeting bicep. “What are you thinking about?”

“How my mind doesn’t know what’s going on with my own body,” Scully replies dryly. “I mean, I know I have a tendency to close myself off, but I’ve cloistered myself so much I no longer know what I am.”

Melissa frowns. “Don’t you mean who? Who you are?”

“No.” Scully shakes her head, looks at her lap. In her darkest thoughts and most blistering nightmares, she is not human anymore. They desecrate her, ravage her body, and leave a memento in her skin, a touch of them. It’s so vivid it might be a memory. Mulder wants an alien; he may have one. That would be ironic, huh? 

Can you learn to believe in yourself when you become something you never thought existed?

Can you still believe in God?

Every job she has dreamed of doing involves solving. Knowing enough to know what you don’t know, then figuring that out. Taking the pencil lines, shading them in. Seeking and finding and never wondering why. She cannot keep this up. There has got to be a meaning.

It is not enough, anymore, to simply wonder for the sake of wondering. To cast light over the darkness because you are tired of the darkness. Why? Is she doing it for Mulder, for the traumatized twelve-year boy locked inside him? Is she doing it for herself, fending off the fallibility, reconciling her belief with proof so that she can get off her own back? Or is she doing it because she was told to, because she is still the daddy’s girl who wants to please? 

Twenty-nine years, and she is still coming to terms with herself. We are all our own x-file. We are all taking ourselves apart and piecing ourselves back together and looking for meaning and losing our minds. 

Missy reaches over the wooden arm of the seat and pats Scully’s hand. Scully is reminded that she hasn’t yet ruled out the possibility that her sister is a mind-reader.

“Dana?” a nurse calls. Her first name feels so secondary that Scully feels certain they’re calling someone else.

“Right here!” Missy responds, getting up and pulling her sister along with her. Scully tugs her sister’s sleeve like a child might, wonders if Missy has ever considered motherhood. 

Once in the corridor, they separate. The nurse takes Scully to get her vitals checked, while Melissa seeks out waiting room D, where the nurse’s flat voice--already tired from hours on the job--told her to wait.

It is not long before her sister joins her there.

“How was it?” Missy asks before Dana even manages to sit down.

Scully shrugs. She turns her left hand to show the pink bandaid on her index finger. “My iron levels are above average.”

“That’s not serious, right?”

“No, it’s usually a good thing.”

They sit quietly, listening to the staticky alt rock song coming through the speakers. They are alone in this particular area, but nurses and doctors bustle just around the corner from them.

Scully regards her sister with a latent curiosity. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Missy turns to her, laughs. “What?”

Scully is somewhat perturbed by her sister’s nonchalant reaction. “Do you want to be a mother?” she reiterates. “It’s not something we’ve talked about since we were kids, so I was wondering.”

“If my life unfolds that way, then surely I think I’d enjoy it. But I’m not prioritizing it.”

“Ahh.” Her sister has always had a particular reverence for destiny. 

“And besides,” Missy continues, “it could be hard, you know, with Trinity and all.”

It takes Scully a moment to realize what she means. “Oh.” That’s something she’s never had to worry about herself. She runs her finger along the grooves of her bandaid, feels her heart clench up for her sister. “There’s always adoption.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a long, drawn-out process from what I’ve heard.”

“Mmm.” Scully nods, wondering how two women could have two such conflicting problems. 

Before she can voice the irony of this, another nurse pops out from around the corner, peers at a clipboard. “Dana Scully?” Her voice is bright and chipper.

“That’s me,” Scully says, raising a hand to show the bandaid, her battle scar.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Missy pats Dana’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’ll stay here. Come get me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, grateful to be given her space yet to know support is right around the corner.

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

For someone that went to medical school--and enjoyed it, for that matter--Scully always feels much too out of place in a gynecology office. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. In textbook diagrams, in wall art, in her own flesh. Yet the 3D model of the reproductive system, the color-coded illustration of the uterus, and the various pamphlets on everything from STDs to birth control to what to expect postnatal smother her, serving as a fresh reminder that Catholicism’s tendency to repress haunts her still. She’s more bothered by her involuntary discomfort than what she sees. 

Dr. Zapolsky enters, easing some of Scully’s nerves immediately. Tall and dark-skinned, she has been practicing medicine for 20 years, and Scully has been seeing her since she moved to Washington. She can be intimidating if you don’t know her, but she’s honest and extremely competent, two things Scully requires of her doctors. And herself.

“Hello, Dana.” Scully sits up straighter as the woman’s voice hits her eardrums. She’s admired Dr. Zapolsky for years, seeing her as an exemplary figure, someone that might have been a mentor to her had she put her medical degree to work. “What can I do for you today?”

There are few things Scully hates as much as being the patient. If she’s the patient, that means she has failed at being her own doctor. That means she didn’t know--and worse--didn’t think she could figure it out on her own.

She wrings her hands. “My cycle is over a week late, which is very concerning considering that it’s always been timely. I’ve been having migraines and nausea and nightmares, and I just know something is wrong.”

Dr. Zapolsky drops Scully’s file on the counter. “Well, the pregnancy portion of your urine test came back negative.”

“I took three drugstore pregnancy tests too, and they were all negative. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you had any notable lifestyle changes over the past few months?” Dr. Zapolsky asks. “Anything out of the ordinary? Stress is a major contributor to fluctuations in the menstrual cycle, as I’m sure you know.”

Scully nods, gathers herself. Dr. Zapolsky is oblivious to the rabbithole she has just fallen into. “I was, um, abducted, about eight weeks ago, and I have no memory of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky wheels her stool beside the medical chair. “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Scully looks at her feet. They dangle a few inches above the tile like a child’s. Nothing new. She glances back at her doctor. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t know anything about what happened.”

“Well, tell me what you do know.” Then, seeing the apprehension on Scully’s face--”I’m not trying to play therapist, I just want to understand.”

Scully blinks slowly to keep from crying. It goes like this, it always does: she can manage the trauma until she has to say it out loud. This is a story no one wants to be in, but everyone wants to hear.

“I was taken by a man involved in a case that I worked on. Well, that my partner worked on, actually. I got involved--and long and complicated story short--the man broke into my apartment, bound my wrists and ankles, and stuffed me in his trunk. That’s the part I do remember. After the trunk, it’s all a blur really.”

The doctor furrows her brow. “How were you found?”

“I wasn’t found, I was returned. To the hospital. None of the staff had any idea how I got there, and I was bathed and cleaned by my abductors so no trace evidence was collected.”

“So no rape kit was done, then?”

Scully shakes her head.

The doctor uncrosses her legs, recrosses them with the opposite leg on top. “How long were you missing?”

“About a month...My mother bought me a gravestone, she didn’t think I would be found.” This is a detail she has never spoken out loud. Saying it feels like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon. 

“I’m so sorry, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky lifts a hand, then puts it back in her lap. “May I hug you?” Scully nods and lets herself be embraced, though she does not feel it necessary. “That sounds like a horrific ordeal.”

Scully shrugs as best she can with Dr. Zapolsky’s arms wrapped around her. “It comes with the job.” Always modest about her suffering, she is. 

Dr. Zapolsky speaks into Scully’s ear. “No, I don’t think it does.” 

The doctor lets go. Scully doesn’t say anything. She curls the fingers of her left hand around her right wrist and squeezes hard enough to be certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Dr. Zapolsky slides her stool back over to the counter, flips through Scully’s file.

“I’d say the best course of action is to start with a blood test. I’ll check a few hormone levels---follicle-stimulating, anti-mullerian, luteinizing. That’ll give some insight into your pituitary gland function and your egg reserve.”

Scully nods along. Those hormones are complicated names she barely remembers, but she trusts it’s the right course of action.

“With that, we can determine whether this is a symptom of a larger problem, or if it’s simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. It should only take a couple days to get the results back.”

Scully nods, bites her lip. More waiting.

“Have you been seeing a therapist by any chance?” Dr. Zapolsky asks.

Scully shakes her head. Dr. Zapolsky should know her better than that. 

“Well, I highly recommend it even to those who have not gone through any trauma. And for a survivor, it can truly be life-changing.”

A survivor. What is she, a war hero? That word is fitting for her father, who lived on the sea and sought eternal rest there. Not her.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Scully cannot meet her doctor’s glance.

“If you need any referrals, I can give you some names.” Dr. Zapolsky is just trying to help, Scully knows this, but this is not the help she came here for. 

“The FBI has an on-site psychologist,” she says to close the subject.

“Oh, what a wonderful resource.”

“Most definitely.” Scully smiles weakly and ducks her head, ready to get out of here.

-------

There are many things she is afraid of, but physical pain is not one of them. The unknown, slow but certain death--these are the things that spook Dana Scully. When you’ve spent years being told that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, you are prepared to suffer for honor. 

This is simply the prick of a needle, a relinquishing. Doctors used to prescribe it as the cure for any ailment, believing it to vanquish toxins from the body. Med school would have been a lot simpler if that were true.

She watches the blood flow out of her veins and into the vial. Some people can’t look; she can’t look away. Missy is seated in the chair next to her, chin resting in her palm after her offer to hold Scully’s hand was rejected. She traces the path of her sister’s blue eyes as they slide from her arm to the vial in the nurse’s hand. Dana has never been afraid to look--that’s the problem.

In an instant, it is done. The nurse smooths a bandage over Scully’s skin, tells her they will call with the results in a few days. And then it is two sisters, going, going, gone.

----------

They have a pleasant ride home, a soft and sisterly evening in. The prospect of Dana going back to Aubrey in the morning never even comes up, much to Melissa’s relief. Perhaps the illusion of normalcy her sister pedals in her head has finally given way to their unreal reality. They don’t waste a moment on the uncertainty circling them, instead curling up on the couch with popcorn and gummy bears for another Golden Girls marathon.

“Which one do you think Mulder is?” Missy asks during a slow moment in the episode.

“Huh?” Scully laughs. “Which Golden Girl, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.” Missy pops a red gummy in her mouth. “Or is he too interesting to be pinned down?” she teases, mimicking the swoony non-answer he gave about Scully some weeks ago.

“I don’t know honestly,” she says, pushing a blanket out of her lap. “I’m not sure that I know him well enough to decide.”

“You’re kidding.” Missy glares at her. Clearly her sister has not dropped the illusion after all.

“No, I’m not,” Scully intones, getting up to refill the gummy bear bowl. “And that reminds me, he wanted me to call.” She glances at the clock. It’s half past 8 there, so surely Mulder is back in his motel room. 

Missy isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She follows her sister into the kitchen. “Dana, I guarantee that you know him better than anyone else in the world. If they conducted a test on every single living human being’s knowledge of Fox Mulder, you would get the highest score.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as understanding,” Scully murmurs, dumping the remaining gummy bears into the bowl. 

“I’ll give you that, but you know what? You do understand him, you’re just too afraid to confront it.”

Scully wants to recoil, but freezes in place instead. It’s just as dramatic but gives less away. After a breath, she crumples the plastic bag into a ball and dunks it swiftly into the wastebasket.

She speaks rigidly, each word cutting through the air. “If I understood him, there would be no fear.” 

Missy feels this in her chest--the aching, the truth in her sister’s voice. Dana is as close to crying as she ever gets. Missy strides over, clasps her sister’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to be scared.” She pulls her little sister in, squeezes her heart to Dana’s own. “He loves you. And I’m not talking about in a romantic way--I don’t know, maybe--but just in general. He loves you, and he would never hurt you.”

Scully’s eyes are glassy with tears now, but Melissa cannot see this in the midst of their hug. “Haven’t you ever been hurt by someone who loves you?” She says into Missy’s ear. “We never mean it, but it happens. It happens all the time.”

“And then you apologize, and you go on. Being hurt once doesn’t mean being hurt forever.”

“It can.” Scully pulls away, wipes her cheeks before her sister can overanalyze. 

“It won’t, not with Mulder. I know enough about him to know that.” She brushes her sister’s hair out of her face. “If anyone was going to cut off the relationship, it would be you.”

“Wha--” Scully gives up the protest. She is partial to burning bridges that are prone to collapse, a last-ditch attempt at dignity. Yet Mulder doesn’t strike her as a bridge that would burn even if she set it aflame. Maybe that’s worse though, it prolongs the struggle.

“Hurting him would be worse than getting hurt,” Scully mutters. 

“Loving him would be better than not loving him,” Melissa responds.

“The correct phrasing of that argument is ‘loving him would be better than being loved,’ if you wanted to copy my logic.” Scully gets curt and analytical when she’s annoyed. 

“Hmm, well, consider that too.”

Their eyes meet and Scully can tell that neither one of them is going to win. “I’ve got to call him before it gets too late.” They both know who he is. She turns on her heels and heads for her room. 

--------

He didn’t pick up the first time she called, which scared her more than she’s willing to admit. She sat cross-legged on her bed until the phone rang again about twenty minutes later, until she heard his voice on the other line.

“Hey Scully, sorry, I was out wrapping up the case.”

“Wrapping up?” She doesn’t even bother to say hello. “It’s over?”

“Open and shut...or, err, something like that.”

“What happened?” Her voice strains for no reason. She clears her throat.

“I’ll catch you up some other time,” he says breezily. “How’s Melissa doing?”

For a moment, Scully forgets her lie and tries to figure out why he’s asking about her sister and not her. Then--”Oh! She’s okay, yeah, it was a sprain like we suspected. Nothing broken on the x-ray. She can just about walk normally now, I think she’ll be off crutches by tomorrow.” Embellish, embellish, embellish. Missy had taught her to lie in the 6th grade, and she finally had some use for that knowledge.

“That’s great! I’m flying back tomorrow morning, I can be at the office by 10 if you wanna meet me there.” 

“Will you tell me about the case? And BJ? How is she?”

“I’ll...I’ll tell you that tomorrow, Scully.” There’s a bit of gravel in his voice, which Scully has noticed comes out when he’s tired or holding back. 

“Fine. Should I assume that by 10, you mean 10:30?”

“Well, you know how the line at the Dulles Chick-fil-A gets,” he wisecracks.

Something goes wrong between her brain and her tongue as she goes to wrap up the conversation. “Alright, 10:30. Love you, bye.”

Mulder makes a noise like a stifled laugh or a cough that couldn’t be held in. “What was that, Scully?”

Her face is flushed, and she’s thankful he can’t see it. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to Missy on the phone a lot lately. Habit.” The voice flowing out of her sounds calm and collected, like that was just an honest mistake. In a way it was...a much too honest one that has made her anything but calm.

“Oh, is that who you say that to?” he teases. 

She laughs. Surely he couldn’t think there’s anyone else, could he? 

“Just Missy, and maybe my mom.” She says it like a promise. He hears it like a prayer. Unusual, for both of them.

“Bye, Mulder,” she says, ushering any sentimentality away. 

“Bye, Scully. Hate you. Oh, sorry--that’s what I say to my dad on the phone.”

Scully giggles into the phone. She’s still giggling as she sets the phone back on the hook.

Even after the call flat-lines, Mulder holds the phone against his ear like it’s a seashell echoing Scully’s giggle back to him.

[newstanmarshblog]

The Average and Unusual Couple: Chapter Twelve

   While everyone was having a lot of fun at the halloween party, Stan and Lydia went outside to have a private talk with each other. They sit next to each other against the wall on the left side of the community center. And with only thirty minutes left before they have to return home, Stan needed to let out his strong feelings for Lydia or else he won’t get another chance to tell her in a perfect situation like they’re currently in for a long time.

   Stan: *removing his Indiana Jones fedora hat from his head* That was quite a night, wasn’t it?

   Lydia: Oh yes, it sure was. This town knows how to put on a fun halloween night, much like with Peaceful Pines.

   Stan: What was halloween like at Peaceful Pines?

   Lydia: Pretty much like what I’ve seen tonight, minus the mountains of course. However, the first three halloweens that I had were at New York City.

   Stan: New York?

   Lydia: I was four years old when me and my parents moved to Peaceful Pines, but before then, I used to live at a luxury apartment within Manhattan. At the time, the only halloween thing that I ever did there was just watching old halloween cartoons as the apartment building that I used to live at doesn’t allowed indoor trick & treating. It was only after moving to Peaceful Pines is when I started to fall in love with the holiday. During my first trick & treat there, I dressed up as a black cat while my dad took me out. Seeing all the spooky costumes that people were wearing, it was so cool to see. But the one costume that stood out to me mostly was this woman dressing up as Elvira that I met at the final house. She looked so strange and unusual that I’ve never seen anything like it, but I loved it so much that I wanted to dress up like her. And it was from that moment on that my love and fascination for gothic stuff and halloween got started.

   Stan: Very interesting backstory. I had my first ever halloween was just shorty after being born of course. Even though I don’t have any memories of it in my head, my mom still has pictures of my first halloween in our memory book. The very first costume that I ever wore was a bunny.

   Lydia: You wore a bunny costume too?

   Stan: Yeah. My grandma unfortunately shared some of those pictures onto Facebook a couple years ago, and it since then became one of my most embarrassing moments in my life.

   Lydia: At least you were age appropriate in wearing a bunny costume. Unlike me during the time when I threw my own halloween party at my old house. After my mother had me wearing it to test it out, I was able to give it an upgrade into a wolf costume just in time before the part got started.

   Stan: *laughs* Good for you, Lyds. Bunnies themselves may be cute, but dressing up as one of them totally suck ass.

   Lydia: So true. But anyway, you wanted to talk with me about something.

   Stan: Right. This could take a while, but I really need to let it all out.

   Lydia: To let what all out?

   Stan: To start off, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a person in my life more beautiful than you. Your spooky beauty is just so unique unlike any other that whenever I look at you, your beauty also feels very natural too. And I’ve been feeling that way towards you ever since the day we met.

   Lydia blushing: Aww, Stanley.

   Stan: But your beauty isn’t the only that I really like about you, I also love you for who you are as a person.

   Lydia: Even with the unusual things about me?

   Stan: Yes. Even though some of your hobbies may be out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t bother me at all. You make them really fun. From our trips to the Netherworld, watching horror movies together, and even learning so much about the insect world from you is such a trill to listen to. It’s because of you that I now have much more appreciation to bugs and spiders than I ever had with them in the past. Before I ever met you, my own life just felt like shit. Living in that farm, having to deal with my dad’s bullshit everyday, and taking me about an hour to either going to school or seeing any of my friends, its just so hard to get through even with the comforts with my mom and friends. Deep inside, I was going through the worst depression in my entire life. But all of that changed when I first met you. During our first conversation together, when you said that you want to becomes friends with me, that was the moment when my depression faded away. The really reason why you made my whole life worth living again was not just because I wanted to become friends with you, but I was also having a very special feeling for you. Whenever I sometime see you, my heart pounds within me, and that’s the kind of feeling that I haven’t ever felt in years. And the only reason that my heart was pounding again is because that I love you. I love you so very much, Lydia. I’ve been feeling that way for you everyday ever since our relationship got started, and I’ll continue to love you moving forward no matter how long it lasts.

   Lydia felt very emotionally overwhelmed from what Stan had just told her. Even though her parents, friends, and Beetlejuice have often shown a lot of care and love for her, nobody has ever shown romantic feelings towards her before. Especially in a honesty way coming from their heart. Stan had just became the very first person to express that kind of feeling towards her. Feeling so overjoyed from hearing Stan’s romantic feelings for her, it was now Lydia’s turn to tell him on how much she loves him too.

   Lydia: Stan, you’ve just made me the most happiest girl in the entire world. I too also love you so very much, and I’ve been having that same feeling towards you ever since spending our first weekend together. Not only do I love you for how sweet and honest you are, but there’s something else about you that means a lot to me.

   Stan: And what would that be?

   Lydia: Despite on having a good life that I had, the only thing that I desperately wanted to have is for someone to love me for the way I am. Because of the strange and unusual lifestyle that I have, all of the boys back at Peaceful Pines find me very weird and often leave me alone. Even most of the girls that I used to go to school with don’t hang out with me at all. My friends and family love me very much, but they don’t always share the same views as I do when it comes to life. Like how me and Beetlejuice do have different opinions on some stuff, and he doesn’t appreciate the way I treat bugs. You on the other hand, you’re not like anyone else that I’ve ever met before. When we talked to each other for the first time, I still remember the look on your face on wanting to start a relationship with me. No one has ever done that to me before. As our relationship grew, you appreciated with my lifestyle more than any other. And even though we do have different hobbies and lifestyle, you still loved me for the way that I am no matter what. The way you love me for who I am means so much to me that it’s like receiving the greatest present that I can ever ask for. That is the main reason why I started to love you so much, Stan. And I’ll forever love you for that very reason, and for who you are for the rest of time.

   Stan reacted with such emotionally joy on his face. Aside from his mother, no one else has ever said such deep affection feelings towards him. Lydia’s words hit him so deep that not only did he felt a warmth pound in his heart, it also caused him to a have a small tear coming out from one of his eyes. It meant everything to him even more so than back when he slept in his old bedroom during their first sleepover together. He was so happy to have that sense of love with someone else other than his mother for the first time ever since his old relationship with Wendy.

   Stan smiling: Lydia, you’re beginning to remain me of my mom. Like her, you’re such a compassionate woman, and you sure do know how to make me so happy with life just as much as she does.

   Lydia smiling: And you remain me a bit of my father and Beetlejuice. You really care so much about my feelings just as much as they do.

   They gently begin to hold hands, and then have their eyes look into each other faces pretty close.

   Stan: Your face is even more beautiful up close.

   Lydia: And you have the sweetest face that I’ve ever seen.

   Stan: *chuckles a bit* That’s what some people say about me.

   They continue to look towards each other silently for a long moment.

   Stan smiling: I’m really excited for the wonderful memories yet to come between us.

   Lydia smiling: Me too.

   They slowly have their lips locked into each other, and didn’t let go for a few moments. Their very first ever kiss as a newly love couple. Afterwards, they stop kissing, and then focus into each other faces again.

   Stan: Wow, that felt so extraordinary.

   Lydia: Yeah, I’ve never done anything like it before. But that felt great, and I’m so happy that we did it.

   Stan: Same. Although let’s just keep this kissing thing privately between us for the time being if that’s okay with you.

   Lydia: Of course. I was gonna ask you to do the same thing too.

   Stan: Thanks.

   Suddenly appearing in front of them was Beetlejuice.

   Beetlejuice: There ya guys are!

   Lydia: Hi, Beetlejuice. Was everything alright in there while we were here?

   Beetlejuice: Not to worry, Babes. I showed off my Elvis Presley moves, had fun in getting to know everyone in there, and nothing supernatural ever happen although I accidentally swallowed my tongue while chugging all the punch. *barfs* Excuse me for a sec. *he barfs out his tongue*

   BJ’s tongue: The next time you chug something, give me a fucking warning so that way I’ll be more prepared!

   Beetlejuice: Alright, alright! Just stop your bitching, get back in my mouth, and I’ll warn you the next time when I chug.

   BJ’s tongue: Good. *files back into Beetlejuice’s mouth*

   Beetlejuice: Anyway, what did you two talked about? Oh wait, let me guess, you both confessed your love for each other?

   Stan: How did you figured that out?

   Beetlejuice: I knew it was gonna happen after your buddy told me about you two having a private conversation. I’m just so glad that I wasn’t here to see it because I would’ve had some nightmares of you two kissing lip to lip.

   Lydia: Beetlejuice, remember when I told you that love counters all?

   Beetlejuice: Don’t remind me.

   Lydia: Well, it’s gonna happen to you eventually. And when it does, it’ll be the greatest feeling that you’ll ever have.

   Beetlejuice: Yeah right, like anyone would fall in love with me. *chuckles*

   Stan: She’s right, dude. Even pranksters and dirty people do find some sense of love.

   Beetlejuice: Not you too, Stanny boy.

   Stan: Trust us, when you do find someone you love, it could be the happiest moment you’ll ever experience. You won’t regret it.

   Beetlejuice: I doubt it’ll ever happen to me. As long I keep on being myself, no one will ever love me. *laughs*

   Lydia: We’ll see about that.

   Stan checks on his phone, and sees that it’s almost 10:00.

   Stan: Ah, crap! It’s almost 10:00. We gotta get going home, Lyds. *puts his fedora hat back on his head*

   Beetlejuice: Well, that was a fun night…*whispers to the reader* minus the love talk of  course, *talks back to his friends* and thank you both for bring me here. Their names are stored in my memory book whenever I have the need to prank or give any of them a good scare.

   Stan: Just make sure that you don’t go too extreme whenever you pull pranks and scares in this town. Especially with my friends.

   Beetlejuice: *turns himself into a boy scout* I shall do so in scouts honor. Chow! *disappears*

   After giving their parents a call that they were about to walk back home, Stan and Lydia said their quick goodbyes to their friends, and then begin to walk together peacefully on the sidewalks.

   Lydia: I just love it when the moon is full on halloween night. How about you?

   Stan: It really fits in so perfectly at this time of year. Without it, halloween feels less spooky.

   Lydia: So true. It even helps well in taking pictures with any scary costume. *laughs*

   Stan: Oh, Lydia. You and your photographs. *stay silent for a moment* Hey umm, will it be alright if we can hold each other hands until we get back to your place?

   Lydia reaches to Stan’s left hand, and then gently has her hand locked into his hand.

   Lydia smiling: Absolutely.

   Stan smiles at her with such happiness on his face. The two then does one more quick kiss, and continues on walking together without a care in the world except for each other.

   In the next chapter, The Marsh family and Deetz family have dinner together.

[sixthousandninehundredmiles]

12/3/2017

Day 2 of Davis tournament

Once again we left for the gym around 8am. It was funny when we got there because we walked in as a group and some girl at the check in table was like “Excuse me you need to check in.” I said we already did yesterday and kept walking. And she’s like “oh you have to do it again today” and I replied with “Someone will do it for us” and kept walking. Now that I think about it, it was kinda rude LOL. Our team was laughing cause Thinh, the guy from yesterday’s dinner, was like damn Derrick literally just shut that girl down like she has no say in anything. Oops :P

Doubles day! I was excited for this because it’s my strength. Van and I first started playing our entire B flight, which only consisted of 2 matches. We started off against Max Kam and Dexter Vu. Van said he has never beaten Max before and that his arm is a cannon. I feel like Max and Dexter weren’t warm yet because we beat them fairly easily in 2 games. Next we played Calvin Dai and Tim Tong, who actually ended up winning BMD. Gdi Tim is, even though by small increments, getting better every time I see him. Van and I call him “The Gatling Gun” because once he hits 1 drive, he keeps pushing forward with rapid drive shots and nothing will get past him. Like it is nothing I have ever seen before. Calvin would literally take like 10 steps every rally because he either starts with a smash followed by Tim’s drives or Tim’s drives are so pressuring that someone lifts and Calvin kills it. Stupid strong pair.

I won CMD! But this was a disappointing victory if I may say so. We “played” 5 matches to win first. Destroyed some nobody’s in the first round who somehow beat Lawrence Chen if you remember who he is. 2nd round we played Pho Ly if that name rings a bell. Never played him but I’ve definitely heard of that name at our tournaments. All the D men’s players on our team was like dude you have to beat this guy. Prove that he isn’t a B player like most people say he is. And show him that his smash isn’t as hard as people say. It was funny cause once we got on the court, Pho and his partner asked Van if I speak Viet in Viet…and then they started having their own convo. Would have been miserable if they started counting score in Viet too LOL. Super intense game and my hardest match of the day. The entire team watched us win 14-21, 21-12, 23-21. I mean I threw my racket at the end so you get the idea. Quarters we played Tommy Chiu and Matthew Hsieh. Their drive game was troubling for us especially with Tommy’s fast cut offs and Matt covering in the back. 2-0 them.

Semi-finals, the one I think you’re happy to hear, was against Anjo and Patrick Tsai. Literally one of the most disappointing matches I have ever played in my years of badminton. It ranks up there with my NCS with Chris against Robert and Justin from Logan. 21-2 and 21-10. Like we had a score conflict in the first game and we won the argument making it 5-1 and then next thing I knew they got a point making it 2-18. Before 2nd game, I spoke to Danae in Canto that we won 21-2 and she was like WTF and everything in Canto. Thinh who was sitting next to her looked super lost so Van spoke to him in Viet and we all started laughing LOL. 2nd set they showed why they lost. They are good individuals but a horrible pair with no chemistry and communication. Patrick is left-handed. Considering that these 2 play together so often, I would expect better rotation. Van just kept pushing left and right and they kept crashing into each other. He also told me to just keep smashing to the middle and their rackets kept clashing.

Finals, we played Max and Dexter again. That was short lived. They pushed themselves so hard in semi against James and John (the twins) that Dexter collapsed with a cramp after 4 points. I offered him rest time, Gatorade, and even said we have PT people with rollers who can help. They forfeit in the end as we predicted. And that’s how I walked away with a 1st place LOL check out the pics tho. Too bad the one with Randy is somewhat blurry but I thought it’s pretty nice.

After we left Davis, we went to BJ’s. Almost an hour wait because we were waiting for another group of 25 to leave and they were just chilling. Some people wanted to drink such as Van and Peter. Van I didn’t say anything because he’s driving alone. Peter said he’s ordering something if Van is and I’m like aren’t you driving. He said just 1 and I’m like but there are people in your car. And he’s like that’s true and took it back…Daniel Wong ended up being the only person who ordered a beer and shared it with some people. I ordered a prime rib and my god this is actually the saddest steak I have ever eaten. I ordered medium rare and I think it came out medium well. Chewy and dry and I have never had a steak over-seasoned. Super salty. At least the monkey bread pizookie I had in the end was good. Oh yea! After we ordered our drinks, Randy and I saw our waitress, who was super nice, sip one of the drinks she was putting on the tray and took it to our table…not sure who’s it was but that was awkward LOL. I also secretly told the waiter that it’s actually Thinh’s bday in a few days and was wondering if we could include something for him. He was super surprised wit his pizookie and also said kinda gave a thank you speech before we got into our cars to head home. I actually found out his bday at the HK cafe but he said to keep it down because he didn’t want everyone knowing…I hope he wasn’t upset or offended in anyway but I just wanted to do something for our teammate :P

The drive home was horrible mainly because every ptfo so I had no one to talk to. We set our destination at the Shell near Van’s house to gas up. So here is where a rant begins. Basically all cars arrived at Shell at different times because some people, such as myself, dropped off people who lived in Milpitas before arriving. CJ, who is already the slowest driver, dropped off someone in Union City and also had to drop Aliza near Great Mall. He said it’ll take him another 30 minutes to get here. So I thought heck instead of everyone waiting in the cold, the fact that I’m driving a van, and also I’m not paying for gas, I could just drive a bunch of people, drop them off on campus, then come back. This way drivers won’t have to be going out of their way later and I can just do 1 trip while waiting for CJ. Everyone liked the idea so I took people who lived on campus and people who had rides waiting at school. Randy is one of the drivers. After I called out who lives near campus, Daniel Wong asked if he can ride with me. I mean I knew he was an asshole but this is far out there. Even Van called him out for it over text and he’s usually the one who tells me to chill about him. I’m like wait aren’t you going home with Randy? He said if I drove him, he could shower and sleep 30 minutes earlier. I’m like so you’re just gonna leave your housemate here? He gave me a glare and was like fuck it fine I’ll stay. I’m like ok fine wtv so Daniel muttered something under his breath and went to get his stuff. Randy literally double flipped him off and mouthed “fuck you” right behind Daniel and most people saw. Then as I was loading the van, Danae was sleeping in the passenger seat. I was 2 seats short so I asked if she could stay here with the others. She tackled me with questions which I got super pissed about: “Why do you need to take them back? Why can’t they wait? Why do you have to be the one to take them back? Who am I waiting with?” Like I had to answer everything and people hear this. And she was complaining when she got out of the car. Daniel Wong eventually got the hint we were short on seats and reluctantly just grabbed his bag and got out without a word. I’m like seriously you two?

While driving back, I couldn’t help but think Danae has actually caused more trouble than anything on this trip. And it just really pissed me off. Even while driving people back to school, they jokingly said dude Danae looked like she’s gonna murder us. I’m like dude these people barely know you but I feel like they can judge you accurately. She caused a fuss on Saturday morning because she thought someone was gonna go get breakfast for the team. I asked her if she coached anyone during this tournament and she’s like no because she didn’t have breakfast so she can’t think straight and in the middle of the day between her games, most people lost already so there’s no point. I’m like dude, you’re a coach. Take some damn responsibility. She also got breakfast on Sunday morning and didn’t offer to get me any. I didn’t mind but knowing her, it is surprising. And I was swerving a bit on the way back from Davis because I was sleepy but not once did she offer to drive. I hate to admit it but she’s just leeched on this trip. Just pissed me off the whole drive from Shell back to Fremont.

When I got home, I jumped in the shower and crawled into bed asap because I was too dead to care for anything else in the world LOL what a trip :)