#let's compile all the dishes after the drama is over

[aloysiavirgata]

Henry Compilation

@perplexistan is an outstanding human who compiled all my little Henry ficlets into one document for me. So here it is, for your perusal. It all began with this:

Anonymous asked: Would scully consider remarrying if she wouldn't work it out with mulder in season 11? ;)

@kateyes224

As long as Mulder is around, I don’t know that she’d be willing to start from scratch. But that makes me very sad for Scully. If she and Mulder did decide that they couldn’t be together, I would want for her to find someone who loved and appreciated her and made her feel completed, even if that person wasn’t Mulder. I just think the ways that she and Mulder have been rent apart by this life mean that their torn edges fit together in a way that makes them as whole as they can possibly be.

AV: 

She gets the younger two out the door in time for the bus, backpacks bouncing as they run down the block. Their sister had left well over an hour ago, driving herself to school for early lacrosse practice. Scully shuts the door once Alice and Simon join the cluster of children trooping along the sidewalk. Everyone knows there is safety in numbers.

The dog, a half-grown keeshond, trots over in response to the breakfast noises. “Here, Wicket,” Scully says. “It’ll make your coat shiny.” She scrapes leftover eggs into his dish before fitting the greasy plates into the dishwasher.

Footsteps on the stairs, and Scully smooths her hair back.

“Morning,” Henry says, grabbing a nectarine from the bowl. He wears only striped pajama pants. “Thanks for getting them out the door.”

“Mmm, not a problem. You almost never get to sleep in.” She smiles, tips her face up to his.

He kisses her, and Scully tastes toothpaste and Listerine. “You’re an angel,” Henry claims.

Not me, she thinks. But Joan is. Henry’s first wife, the mother of his children, the lover of keeshonds, the gardener of exotic bulbs, is dead and beyond reproach. Scully finds her harmless, though occasionally irritating. The children find her flawless.

Henry pours them each a cup of coffee, fixes hers exactly how she likes. Scully settles onto a bar stool to savor it.

“Good?” he asks.

“Perfect.”

Henry beams.

She watches her husband as he putters around the kitchen, dumping coffee grounds into the composter, putting frozen fruit into the Vitamix. His back is broad and muscular in the buttery morning light, his silver-flecked hair gleaming.

“You eat?” he asks, after his smoothie has been whirred to perfection.

“Eggs with the kids.”

“They love you,” he says happily, if not accurately. “Can you believe we’re coming up on a year, Dana?”

She cannot. The wedding had been small. Quiet. Family attended, some of their friends from work. Joan’s parents, uncomfortably.

Mulder had sent flowers for her, gifts for the children.

Scully takes another swallow of coffee. “Paper anniversary, Henry. Hot date at Barnes and Noble?”

He walks over, wraps his arms around her from behind. Scully leans into the heat of his chest, her head on his bicep. She sighs with contentment as he noses her hair.

“I was thinking plane tickets,” Henry murmurs, nuzzling her neck. “Paris. Rome. Somewhere decadent. Between work and the kids you’re running yourself absolutely ragged, Dana. Joan’s parents can take the younger two, and Vivian can stay home by herself if she wants.”

Paris. All she has seen of Paris is the airport, eating overpriced pain au chocolat while Mulder argued with the ticket agent in his lousy French. They barely made their flight.

“Paris,” Scully muses. “I could do Paris.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Henry asks, purring in her ear.

She rolls her eyes. “So predictable.”

“I’m a tax attorney, Dana. I’m supposed to be predictable.”

She laughs a little. Predictable. Solid, predictable Henry with his beautiful children and his beautiful house and his beautiful wives. She has never heard him say a truly unkind thing about anyone. He is a charter Rotarian and a sucker for the wounded animals Simon brings home. He’s been unfailingly gracious to Mulder on the few occasions they’ve met. He’s a wonderful dancer.

“Predictable is good,” she assures him. Henry would never ditch her in strange motels or mix her up in a global conspiracy. Henry calls when he’s running late.

“You have time for a run before work?” he asks.

“I wish I did. I’ve got a consult with a family in about an hour.” Scully turns the bar stool, looking up at Henry’s green eyes. She takes his face in her hands, thumbing his jaw. “Paris sounds lovely. I’ll talk to Gwen about my schedule today.”

He kisses her palm. “You deserve Paris.”

Scully holds him close and doesn’t tell him how rarely anyone gets what they deserve.

***

From @mangokiwitropicalswirl

[I could NOT stop thinking about your short brilliant painful take on Scully’s marriage to Henry, and I woke up needing to write this. If you think it fits your vision of things in that universe, feel free to share!]

***

Note from AV: There are not WORDS to describe what a compliment this is, my goodness.  <3 Thank you, @mangokiwitropicalswirl

***

On the morning Scully marries him, she takes a long look in the mirror as she smooths her hair and touches up her makeup. It goes without saying, without thinking, that she wishes her mother were here. Maggie would have cried to see her in the ivory dress, would have coddled the step-grandchildren, would have joined her elbows-deep in topsoil in his garden.

Everyone believes the day that you get married you’ll feel uniquely whole, blissfully free from uncertainties. Happy.

And she is. She catches her own gaze in the mirror and knows that she’s the only one who’d see the wistful mote of resignation in her eyes. But not a resignation of defeat, it’s one of understanding. She better understands at fifty now than she did at thirty that there are choices. Always choices.

Someone told her once that love flows through us like water, softening our edges the way water wears down sandstone, or even granite. It carves out space for itself inside of us, making us larger, widening the heart.

Mulder’s love had been a tumult, a raging river, a flood. It had opened her like a canyon, revealed a grandscape of dizzying heights and crevices inside her. It had split over into corners she herself had not explored. Together, their love had flowed and thrashed and roiled, until she was hollowed out like a deepend cavern, like a riverbank destroyed by sudden flood.

And then it had receded, slowly, like the bitter end of a geologic age.

The thin ribbon that still trickles through her even now was not enough to fill the newly-barren spaces. As years went on, the heart crumbled like loose rock, eroding like a monument to a long forgotten era.

Contrary to popular belief, love is not all you need. Sometimes you need therapy. And meds. And sometimes you need to let it go.

On the little card that came along with flowers there was just one word, “Always.– M”.

There were years she would have bristled at the word, hearing in it all the codependency and desperate possession that were the hallmarks of their bond. But she hears it now the way she knows he means it, with the openness of someone who will always be her friend. Before all of it, at the very heart of it, he had been her dearest friend.

When Henry came into her life, it crept up on her like the warm waters of a bending river. His love curled and soothed and nourished until she felt green and young.

In the mirror, she smiles the half-smile of a woman blessed to find there’s more of her to give. And more to know. She dabs perfume on each wrist and behind her ears, between the shadowed valley of her breasts. Beneath them in the hollow of her chest, she’s wider now and knowing, surprised and grateful she is able to bloom again.

***

Anonymous asked: So even though Scully and Henry have this perfect life, which I love, what kind of things do they fight about? Is Scully relieved it's not about conspiracy or monsters in the dark? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? Also, I love Mulder dearly but Henry is kind of perfect....which is a little scary but awesome at the same time.

They really don’t fight much. They disagree (Henry’s a bit more liberal than Scully)  they annoy each other on occasion (he constantly fails to put his laundry in the hamper and she moves all the papers he leaves on the kitchen island) but fights? No, no fights.

N.B. Before anyone messages me to say how boring that sounds, let me explain that I have been with my husband for upwards of 17 years. In that time, we have had 2 fights. Like, ugly unpleasant ones. Lots of arguments and disagreements, but two fights. Our relationship isn’t boring, and I refuse to even entertain the validity of the notion that relationships need drama to be exciting.

One of the things I love best about Iolokus is that Rivka and Sally show Mulder and Scully figuring that out, that conflict isn’t necessary for intellectual stimulation.

***

Anonymous asked: So I know Mulder and Henry aren't hanging out playing poker together every Thursday night, but are there any occasions where they do find themselves in the same room? What was that first size-up like from either guy's perspective?

Scully has scheduled the dinner at a restaurant so it isn’t on anyone’s turf. Besides, Mulder’s house would be torture and she finds Henry’s elaborate kitchen somewhat daunting. She agonizes over reviews and menus, trying to eliminate as many variables as possible. Henry had tried to help, but her snippiness drove him off in short order. She is nauseous for a week beforehand, asking Henry if she had lost her mind and should cancel, asking Mulder the same.

“I want to meet him,” Henry says, passing her a glass of wine. “He’s part of you, so he’s important to me.”

“If this is to get my blessing, Scully,” Mulder says over the phone, “you already have it. But yeah, I’d like to meet the guy wonderful enough for you to ignore the fact that his job title contains the words tax and attorney.”

***

She puts on a black sheath dress, then decides it looks too much like the one from their movie premiere. My god, the movie…has Henry seen it? Or Viv? She is afraid to ask, and afraid not to know. She pushes the thought from her mind for now, pushes her and Mulder and that limo away. Scully rummages through her closet with increasing anxiety, finally settling on a burgundy pencil skirt and fitted navy sweater. Her hair is being impossible, and after half an hour with the curling iron, she opts for a French twist. She keeps her makeup light and tosses back a handful of Tums to quell the acid tide in her stomach.

Henry’s in jeans and a blazer, drinking coffee with Viv and her girlfriend. There’s a heated argument about Iron Man taking place. “You look great,” Henry says. “Ready?”

“No. But let’s do it anyway.” She plucks at invisible fuzz on her skirt.

He takes her arm and they head to the garage.

“Have fun at the circus, kids!” Viv calls after them.

***

They are seated at a table for four, Henry and Mulder facing one another, herself between. She holds a multigrain roll from the breadbasket in her lap, using her nails to pull out every tiny piece of millet, extract every last pumpkin seed. She drops them to the floor like daisy petals.

“I read your book,” Henry says. “Really impressive research. I recommended it to some colleagues.”

Mulder stirs his drink. “Thanks. Spend a lot of time on the dark web between billable hours, Henry?”

Scully kicks him lightly under the table, nostrils flared.

Henry chuckles. “No, I’m just a dilettante.”

The silence is thick and heavy as they peruse their menus, and Scully curses herself for this egregious decision. The back of her neck prickles, her face is hot and itchy. Moments stretch like saltwater taffy on a summer day.

“So, uh, Henry,” Mulder says at last, rubbing the side of his face.

Henry looks up. “Yep?”

“My, uh, my finances are pretty complicated due to some trusts and inheritances, plus my pension. The accountant I’ve been using is retiring. You think you could recommend anybody trustworthy?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve got a great guy in Alexandria,” Henry says. “He’ll save you a fortune.”

Mulder nods thoughtfully. “”I’ll put it towards my post-apocalyptic underground bunker. To which, of course, you’re all invited when the end times come upon us.”

Henry’s eyes crinkle at the corners, Scully sees, and her chest loosens. “We’ll bring a pie,” Henry says.

Mulder smiles. “Don’t let Scully make it. Great cook, lousy baker.”

The waitress comes for their orders, and they are chatting easily by the time the food arrives.

***

Henry sits outside on the porch, staring up at the sky. He names the constellations to himself as he sips a tumbler of Macallan. Dana perches on the arm of his Adirondack chair, knees drawn up to her chest.

“I like him,” Henry says at length. “Very funny guy.”

Dana nods slowly. “He is.”

Henry crunches an ice cube. “He’s still in love with you.”

“Does it bother you?’

He looks at her, ethereal in the moonlight. He is afraid at times that he will awake to find she has disappeared, burned off like the mist. “I want everyone to love you.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Henry.”                                                             

“You love him too,” Henry says.

She hunches her shoulders, glances down. “Does that bother you?”

It might, he’s not sure. He felt the ineffable thing between them, but he understands the weight of history. “Love doesn’t have to be a zero sum game. Is there space in you for both of us?”

“It is impossible for more than one object to occupy the same space at the same time,” she says. “There are different spaces for each of you.”

Henry considers this. “Why’d you leave, Dana?”

She cants her face to the sky, eyes wide. “There’s a…a recklessness in me, Henry. A self destructiveness you haven’t seen.”

Is this where his gentle doctor ends and Mulder’s sure-shot partner begins? “Scully,” he says, trying it out.

Her eyes slide closed. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…please keep going.”

“That part of me blooms with him. It thrives. And I knew, I know, I couldn’t live like that. I couldn’t survive it another year. And I…I ripped it away and left it behind. That’s the place in me for you, Henry. That wound. You and Viv and Alice and Simon; you heal me there.”

He hears the thickness in her voice, feels it rising in his own. “Dana,” he says roughly. He knows about wounds and empty spaces. A piece of him went into the dark earth with Joan.

She turns her head to look at him, a slice of her lovely profile. “If that’s too much, I understand. I do. It’s a lot to ask.”

He shakes his head. “I’d rather share you than lose you,” he breathes. “If I….if I can make you feel whole, that’s a privilege.”

She makes a small noise, a hiccup or a sob, and crawls into his lap.

“It’s okay,” he says, arms wrapping around her. He kisses her temples, her eyelids.

She curls tight against his beating heart.

***

They don’t bother with the superfluity of hellos. She calls, he answers, they talk.

“I liked him,” Mulder says, bouncing a basketball. “I didn’t particularly want to, but he seems like the kind of person people just like.” Mulder finds this a kind of character flaw of its own, but does not mention as much.

“Yes,” Scully says, her voice soft. “He is.”

“A tax attorney though, Scully. Ouch.”

“Mulder, please.” The note of actual pleading in her voice startles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sincere. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“It’s okay.”

He shoots the ball into the hoop at the end of the driveway. “Three-pointer,” he tells Scully.

“The crowd goes wild.”

There’s a long silence, just one another’s breathing.

“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I have a bit of a background in psychology and behavioral science.” He makes a foul shot.

“You don’t say.” There’s a smile in her voice.

“Truth. So I want you to know that my impression of Henry is that he, um, he knows the value of what he has. With you.” It hurts to admit this to her. To himself.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Mulder, I didn’t exp-“

“No, I just, let me finish. And he, um. He’s really a good guy. His life is, you know, well. Your life, really, I guess. It’s good. It’s what I wanted for you and I’m just, you know. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you.” His eyes sting.

Silence.

“Scully?”

“I’m here.”

He hears tears in her voice. “Okay. Okay, good. This is hard, but we, um. We’re always friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course. Always.” She sniffles.

“I feel like Henry, he understands that. He seems like he really wants you to be happy, that he’s not the jealous type.” Shit, shit why did he say that? “Not that he should be jealous, I don’t mean to imp-“

“It’s okay. And you’re right. He knows that I’m…that we…he knows how we are.”

Mulder swallows hard. “How we are,” he repeats.

They never say goodbye, either. The silence grows and drifts, then she finally disconnects the call.

***

Anonymous asked: What would you do if Henry rocked up in season 11 (other than sue)?

Wait for him to die, I guess. That’s Chris’s MO.

***

Anonymous asked: I love Henry. I know it's sad that in this fictional world she's not with Mulder, but as much as they deeply loved each other, I must admit it's lovely to read a world where Scully is appreciated in the day to day. I'm sure that perhaps Mulder did, but we didn't see too much of that. It felt like it was only when she was kidnapped or in hospital with cancer that he realised how much she meant to him. Henry is what she deserves, and it seems to make Mulder step up too. I'm on board for this.

I feel this way too. Listen, I am diehard MSR and was a shipper before fandom had even settled on the term! I am here for Mulder and Scully hobbling across that bridge like everybody else. 94% of what I write is MSR, either set within canon, or trying to give them a happier AU. Even in this story, their love is still palpable. I don’t think it works otherwise.

But the challenge of trying to create this unconventional AU in a way that is relatable to people is really enjoyable to me as a writer. MSR is inherently easy. It exists. It’s fun and satisfying as a fan, but it’s not a hard sell. This is really pushing me to approach the characters in a new way. I’m just immensely surprised it has gone over so well, and endlessly grateful to everyone who has been willing to engage in the narrative. Especially to @kateyes224 for the idea and @mangokiwitropicalswirl and my 10/13 anon for fleshing it out. 

(10/13 anon, got your message. Just developing an answer in my head.)

—

Anonymous asked: How would Henry cope if Scully's cancer returned? And how would Mulder? OR... how would Scully cope if something happened to Mulder, but she isn't free to drop everything and go to him? Would she want to, or would she have closed the door on that reaction? How would Henry deal with that? #TeamHenlly

Henry paces the hallway outside her room, one hand to his forehead, the other holding his phone. “Pick up, pick up,” he mutters.

Mulder does, finally. “Henry?”

“Yes. Yeah. Listen, this isn’t easy, but I’m at the hospital with Dana and I’ve got some, uh, some bad news.” He is proud of his steady voice, his steady hands.

“Is she hurt? Is she sick?” Mulder sounds almost accusatory, as though Henry has been derelict in a simple task.

“She’s sick. They…” he runs his hand through his hair, circles around the vending machine again. “They found a mass in her sinuses, Mulder.”

The silence on the other end goes on too long. “Mulder, are you there?”

“Do you know her medical history?” The words are clipped.

“She told me, told the doctors this isn’t new. But she said something about a chip, about that scar on her neck. What the hell is going on here, Mulder? I’ve never pushed her about her past, but I’m seriously in the dark here.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end. “It’s not my story to tell you.”

Henry, his frustration peaking after hours of obfuscation and obliqueness from Dana, slams a fist into the wall. “She’s my wife, goddammit! Whatever you two have, Mulder, whatever it is, I never pried. I trust her and I trust you and I accept it. But you need to tell me, right fucking now, what I don’t know.”

People are staring, but he doesn’t care, he feels righteous and productive.

“Henry, I-”

“You tell me,” he growls, “or I will drive over right now and beat the living shit out of you. I have a lot of impotent rage I’d like to direct somewhere.” He’s not entirely sure he can make good on this, but he thinks adrenaline will give him an advantage.

Nothing.

“Mulder.”

Breathing.

“It’s medicine,” Mulder says slowly. “The chip in her neck is some kind of medicine that stops her cancer.”

Henry is appalled, “That’s it? That’s the secret you couldn’t share? Am I losing my goddamned mind? Call the fucking manufacturer right now and get another one, for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s not that simple,” Mulder says, his voice soft. “It’s, ah, not on the market.”

“You’re telling me you know of a medicine that treats cancer effectively and you can’t get it? Is it foreign? Illegal?”

“It was a sort of custom design,” Mulder says.

“Give me an answer, a real answer. You two and your doublespeak, I swear to god…” He’s gripping his hair by the roots.

“Fine, Henry. Here it is.” There is anger in Mulder’s voice now, and Henry finds it satisfying. “Her cancer was specifically engineered to manifest if she ever took the chip out. The chip is a tracking device. I don’t know why it stopped working, but before you come over and kick my ass, you have a lot of fucking questions to ask your wife.”

Henry’s mind is reeling. He leans against the wall. “A tracking device?” he repeats. “Engineered cancer? How do you engineer cancer? Why do you engineer cancer?” He can’t process this, not this and Dana asleep in the hospital bed with a demon behind her eyes.

“Shit,” Mulder breathes. “Goddammit, Henry. How bad is she?”

“She’s weak, very thin. She kept saying it was the flu, you know how she is. But she had a few nosebleeds and went in. And here we are.”

“Yeah, I know how she is,” Mulder says, and Henry hears the pain in his words.

“There’s a man,” Mulder says. “Who knows about the chip. He might, uh, he might arrange a deal.”

Henry is baffled, but tries to swim with the current. “A deal? Why would an- never mind. Call him. I’ll pay whatever he wants, no questions asked.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can pay what he’ll want,” Mulder says. The words are measured, heavy. “But I can.”

The line goes dead.

***

Anonymous asked: In the Henry universe, how does Scully react when Mulder finds someone else?

She’s sorting lunch components for the twins into plastic bins in the refrigerator; bags of chips and carrot sticks and foil-wrapped triangles of pizza. Her phone rings as she picks up a webbed bag of clementines.

“Hey,” Mulder says, his voice a warm pulse.

Scully lets the oranges slump back onto the counter. “Hey.”

“I’m, uh, I’m headed up to New York to talk to my publisher this afternoon,” he tells her.

She can hear the noisy old dishwasher going in the background, imagines Mulder fidgeting at the kitchen table. There’s a chair with a wobbly leg he likes to rock in. “They still talking about the miniseries?”

“Yep.”

Scully chews her lip, considering. She tucks the phone against her shoulder. “That’s not why you called, though.”

A long pause. “No.”

“Okay.” She shuts the fridge and begins assembling sandwiches on the counter. Teasing information from Mulder can take a quiet, steady patience.

“I met someone,” he says at last.

Scully sets the knife down, knuckling the cool granite. “Did you?”

“I just, you know, I wanted to call you. You were very open about Henry so I thought I should extend you the same courtesy.” In the background, the squeak of the chair leg.

“Mulder, that’s great. I’m happy to hear it.” She is, she is, she doesn’t want him alone.

He coughs. “Thanks. Um, well, I guess that’s it, really. I should go pack.”

“No!” she exclaims. “Mulder, I need some detail.” As a friend. As a concerned friend who is wary of his general taste for women who will betray him.

“Oh, Scully, you don’t have t-“

“Really, I do. Let’s have the 411.” She hopes she sounds casually interested, and begins spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread.

Mulder guffaws. “The 411? Scully, let me tell you about the internet.”

She blushes, waves her hand. “Whatever. Details, something.”

“Ummmm…”

Scully imagines him pacing now, tossing and catching an invisible baseball. “You know, it’s okay, I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No, hey, I’m sorry. Just trying to generate a quick dossier. Uh, well, her name is Elizabeth. She works for the EPA, coastal ecology.”

“Science nerd, huh?” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. She swallows, stabs a spoon into the jam jar.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “She does something with zebra mussels and ship ballast water that I need to brush up on.”

“Probably invasive species in coastal communities. I’ll give you a crash course if you like.” She picks up the sandwich to tuck into a plastic bag.

‘It’s okay. I’ll Google it; you remember that internet thing I mentioned before. It’s got lots of stuff on it.”

She is stung, and words sticks in her throat like lumpy oatmeal. “Oh,” she manages. “Okay, then.”

Mulder coughs again. “I just figured you’re pretty busy, with work and the kids and everything.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty crazy.” She toys with the jam jar, rolling it in her hands. It is cool against her palms “Well, you know, enjoy your research. Look up copepods too.”

“I will.”

Seconds tick by on the kitchen clock.

“When’s the second book out?” Scully asks. She picks up the sandwich, zipping and unzipping the plastic bag.

“Around Thanksgiving, I think. You want an advance copy? I’ll sign it for you.”

She laughs. “No, don’t give them away. I want to buy it, boost your sales.”

“In that case, stock up and send them out with the Christmas cards. Even mine.”

“I’ll pre-order on the….what did you call it? The in-ter-net?”

Mulder chuckles. “Have them shipped right to your house, or take your velocipede down to the book-seller to fetch them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

A lengthy pause, but they don’t hang up.

Scully finds that the sandwich in her hand has been wadded into a dense ball, peanut butter and jam squeezed all over the inside of the bag. She hastily shoves it into the trash can. “Mulder, um, when you get back in town, why don’t you give me a call? We’d love to have dinner with you and Elizabeth.” She says it so smoothly she believes it.

“Oh,” he says. “That sounds nice, that sounds really good. Yeah.”

“Okay.” She squeezes her eyes closed, her stomach sour.

Mulder breathes for a long moment. Then he says, “Well, hey. I’ve got to get going, but thanks for listening. I know how busy you are.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Sure.” She holds back this time, doesn’t say she always has time for him.

An empty silence now, the call disconnected.

Scully sits on a bar stool, hands clasped beneath her chin, elbows on the breakfast bar. She sees the absurd expectation she’s held onto, the cruelty of it. Mulder like a sundial in the garden of her life, static and reliable as she moves through the seasons around him. Ticking off her hours as she spends them.

Scully goes to the sink and slaps cold water on her face. She sees Elizabeth in her mind’s eye. Lanky and brunette, of course. Long legs and khaki shorts, probably lots of trips to REI. She assigns her a sporty dog too. Maybe with a bandanna.

She says a prayer for his happiness, and leaves it to God to sort out what exactly she means by the idea.

***

Anonymous asked: 10/13 Henry anon here, dearest Mrs. Virgata and mangokiwimagicswirl, either or both of you please feel free to flesh it out. It delights me my little something could turn into a bigger something. I'm not above begging. *begs*. Look what you all did, my MSR heart really does belong to MSR, but I can carve a little spot out for Henry/Scully/Mulder. Mulder is earth, Henry is the stick, Scully is Archimede's point bc we all know she makes the choices and drives the consequences.

A Saturday in late September, and Henry and Scully sit on the back porch watching the twins lob lacrosse balls at Viv. She catches them expertly, flicking her wrist to send them flying back at her younger siblings. They dodge them, squealing and chasing one another and Wicket, who makes off with one on occasion. He exposes his preposterously fluffy belly in hope of scratches.

Scully pours herself a glass of sangria, pours Henry another two inches of Macallan. She is pleasantly buzzed, work blurring out of her mind’s eye. Henry is somewhat more than buzzed, she suspects. Joan’s parents had been over, which exhausts him.

“There’s, ah, there’s something I want to discuss with you,” Henry says. “And with a bit of liquid courage, there’s no time like the present.”

Anxiety rises in her like a barometer. “That’s quite a lead-in,” she says, keeping her tone light while her stomach churns.

“Sorry,” Henry replies. “It’s not, it’s nothing bad.”

“Let’s have it, then.”

“Mulder’s birthday dinner,” Henry begins. “I know what he…I know that you two are…dammit.“ He trails off in frustration.

The anxiety is now constricting her throat. “Henry?”

He shakes his head, still watching his children. “What I’m mangling here is that if you, um, if you ever felt a need to, you know, take a night off from all this-“ here he nods at the yard, “I’d not hold it against you.”

Comprehension begins to dawn, and Scully is aghast.  “You’re not suggesting that I….no. Henry, no.”

Henry shrugs. “It’s not a moral failing, okay? I asked you once if there was a place for both of us in you and you said there were two places. And I said I’d rather share you than lose you. I know a marriage is a compromise, and I’m, you know, I’m trying to figure out what that looks like here. You took on three kids and a guy with some heavy emotional baggage.”

Scully’s cheeks burn. “So your solution is that I offer myself up to him as a birthday gift? Is this some kind of magnanimous man-to-man gesture, sharing your woman as a show of friendship?”

Henry turns to her now, mouth open. “Oh god, oh….shit. I had no idea it sounded that way. I’m sorry.”

Scully drains half her glass in one gulp. “This is the life I committed myself to, Henry. It’s not a job I need a sick day from, and you and the kids aren’t baggage, for heaven’s sake.”

Henry stares into the yard, watches Wicket play tug of war with Viv’s lacrosse stick. “I’m terrified of losing you,” he says. “Partially because of Joan but partially because…” he shakes his head.

“Because what?”

He swallows the rest of his Scotch. “Because there are these dark places in you I can’t see, places that have been redacted. And I told you I wouldn’t pry, and I won’t, but I have this fear of them. That they’ll swallow you one day, and you’ll just disappear. I guess I hoped that if I offered you a night to visit, so to speak, you might not feel tempted to run away to them.”

Her sinuses burn. “Henry…”

“I wasn’t trying to offer you to Mulder as a birthday gift, Dana, that’s really fucking sick. But I was trying to offer you a night in the parts of yourself you haven’t let me go to yet.”

She reaches for his hand and grips it hard. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“A vacation home,” he says, smiling weakly at his own joke. He squeezes her hand back.

“I don’t need a vacation,” she assures him.  She tugs Henry closer, pulls him down so that his head is resting on her lap. His legs dangle over the armrest of the wicker settee.

“I just want you to know I meant it,” he says.

She nods. “I do. But you can’t keep me by giving me away.” She traces his face with her fingertip, his eyelashes and tragus and philtrum. She etches him deeper into her heart.

***

Anonymous asked: Original 10/13 anon here, I suppose i'm down for consummation of free pass too. Heck, you can do both versions for all I care!

aloysiavirgata:

Oh @perplexistan and @kateyes224…

A continuation of this

***

It’s sticky outside, a mid-Atlantic fall day not fully committed to the reality of October. A late season hurricane has been stirring up the ghosts of summer off the Carolinas, the air close and heavy. Scully steals hairpins from Viv’s vanity to help tame her bun, and is reasonably pleased with the results.

It’s just Mulder, she tells herself, zipping up her navy dress. It has a boatneck that shows her clavicles to good advantage, cap sleeves that feel feminine but not frilly.

It’s just Mulder, she thinks, choosing beige kitten heels that lengthen her legs, swiping Lancome’s Perfect Fig across her mouth. She skips perfume.

The sky is thick with shaggy clouds, the sun slipping away nearly undetected. Scully slides behind the wheel of her car, and leaves tire tracks on the grass when she swerves backwards down the driveway.

***

The restaurant is new and well reviewed, with nothing served in Mason jars or on slate tiles. She asked when she made the reservation, as these things leave Mulder snarky and cross.

Mulder arrives at the table a few minutes after her, wind-whipped, mud on one of his loafers. They embrace, a quick kiss on each cheek, and she breathes shallowly. It would not be good to inhale the scent of him.

“Happy birthday,” she says, settling into her chair, napkin spread across her silken lap. “I’m sorry the weather’s so ominous.”

“I blame you entirely.”

She smiles. “I should have e-mailed Holman Hart, called in a favor.”

Mulder peruses his menu. “Next time. I’m just glad you got to come out and play for an evening.”

Scully frowns. “This isn’t the fifties, Mulder, and I’m not a kept woman. Don’t make it sound like that.”

He is taken aback, but nods. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Scully sighs. She doesn’t want to begin like this. “It’s fine. I’ve had a long week and I’m a bit snappish. I just don’t want things to be strained between us because of….well. It’s your birthday, Mulder.”

A waitress comes by with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She sets it on the table, handing them each a flute.

Scully looks at her in confusion. “I didn’t order this,” she says.

The waitress nods her head towards Mulder. “The gentleman called earlier, ma’am.”

The gentleman denies this, and the waitress furrows her brow. “Sir? Someone called earlier and ordered this for Dana Scully’s table. For a birthday celebration.”

Scully blushes, twists her wedding ring around her finger. “It’s fine, thank you,” she tells the waitress. “Just a misunderstanding on my part. Sorry for the confusion.”

“Shall I open it?”

“Please.”

The cork makes a wonderful popping sound, the champagne golden and sparkling as it flows into their glasses. The waitress tucks the bottle back into the ice before she leaves.

Scully stares at the silver bucket, the frost of condensation on it, the mounds of crystal ice. She runs a fingertip along the rim of her flute, making it squeak.

Mulder raises his glass in a toast. “Many thanks to Henry,” he says, without a trace of irony.

***

Mulder is clacking his empty mussel shells like castanets. The champagne is gone and so is half a bottle of Sancerre. The candle on their table has burned low.

Scully is laughing helplessly, her napkin pressed to her mouth.

“I can’t believe you never told me this,” she manages. “The Spanish ambassador, how could you?”

He drops the shells back into the bowl, grinning. “It’s was university and I was an asshole. Plus my girlfriend was semi-psychotic. Phoebe,” he clarifies.

Scully groans. “Oh, God. Phoebe. She was a mess, Mulder.”

He laughs. “Gorgeous though. My main requirement at the time.”

She wipes her eyes. “I’ll grant you that, yes. I was a little intimidated, I won’t lie.”

“You were looking pretty good too.”

Scully wrinkles her nose in reply.

A boom of thunder comes suddenly, making the chandeliers rattle. Seconds later, a jagged fork of lightning splits the sky. Gasps come from the other diners when the lights go out.

Mulder dribbles wine onto the candle,  extinguishing it. “Pouring one out for my homie Zeus.”

***

They make a mad dash to their cars in the rain, Scully nearly diving into her SUV. She slides on the wet leather, blasting the air to dry herself off.

Across the lot she spots Mulder’s car, his battered old two-tone Land Cruiser 70. It has not been started. Worried, Scully drives over, hydroplaning on the slick asphalt. She parks parallel to him, oriented nose to tail.

She sees him through the downpour, scowling at his phone. She waves to get his attention and he frowns at her, shrugs. A round of hurried texting reveals that the car won’t start and he’s got at least a 2 hour wait per the AAA app.

Scully reaches behind her seat for the huge wood-frame golf umbrella she keeps there. Opening the door, she unfurls it into the storm. The wind nearly drags it from her hands. She makes it to her trunk before Mulder sees what she’s doing and leaps from his car.

“Are you out of your fucking MIND?” he yells into the wind.

“JUMPER CABLES,” she shouts back. “YOU CAN’T STAY HERE FOR TWO HOURS!” Scully rummages around, then hoists them victoriously.

Thunder crashes, and the hail begins.

Mulder shoves her into his open driver’s door and she clambers into the passenger seat so he can get in. Hail the size of quail eggs bounces in with him.

He slams the door, panting. “You have a degree. In physics.”

She twines the cables around her hands, shamefaced. “I know.”

Mulder starts to laugh. He rests his head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter while hail rattles around them.

Scully glares at him. “Let’s agree it wasn’t my finest moment, okay?”

He catches his breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s good. I appreciate the laugh. But we picked the wrong car for this little adventure.” He clicks the useless ignition to demonstrate.

Scully groans. “My phone’s in mine too.”

Mulder peels his jacket off, his shirt mostly dry underneath. “Scully, you’re soaked. I’d offer you my jacket, but…” He holds it up, letting it drip water onto the floor.

“I’m good,” she says. “Just turn on the - oh.”

“Yeah.”

She folds down the visor, inspecting herself in the mirror. She looks like the undead prom queen from a slasher flick, straggling hair coming loose, smudged rings of waterproof mascara.

She snaps the visor back up.

Mulder brightens. “I think there’s a blanket in the foot locker. I’ll climb back and get it.”

She waves him off. “I’ll get it, I’m smaller.”  Scully turns, her silk dress clinging like wet paper as she wriggles. She and Mulder studiously ignore her hip against his shoulder. Her shoes drop beside him to the floor.

She squelches into the back, feeling clammy and uncomfortable. There is loose grit on the floor, which hurts her knees. She tugs a quilted moving blanket from a folded-up seat onto the floor, then opens the foot locker. Inside is his old Navajo blanket. She touches it, smiling.

“You find it?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” she says. Scully unfolds the blanket and wraps it around herself. It smells of dry wood and motor oil, GoJo hand cleanser. “I forgot how much room there is back here with the side seats up.”

He adjusts the rearview mirror to see her, and they hold one another’s eyes for a beat. Scully looks away, watches the storm shred leaves off the trees. She twists her wedding ring.

Mulder climbs through the seats, grunting, then sits next to her on the moving blanket. “I texted Henry,” he says. “Let’s him know you’re safe, just waiting out the storm. Thanked him for the champagne.”

“I appreciate that,” she says, touched

“I’d want him to.”

Scully pulls the blanket tighter.“I’m sorry your birthday is going like this,” she says.

He looks at her, surprised. “Good dinner, great company, spooky storm. You wanna tell ghost stories and creep each other out?” He bumps her shoulder.

Scully smiles. “I’m don’t think we can surprise each other anymore,” she says softly. “We’re like two magicians trying to show each other card tricks.”

“You can always surprise me,” he says.

She holds her left hand out for his inspection. The diamonds reflect scraps of yellow streetlight. “This?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs, looks away.

Scully touches the rings. “He told me to go home with you tonight if I wanted. He said he would understand, like shore leave. That it wouldn’t change anything.”

Mulder swallows, closes his eyes. The air is becoming steamy with evaporate, the windows fogged. The smell of damp silk, damp wool hangs about them.

“I told him I couldn’t, that I didn’t need it anyway. And that I certainly wasn’t going to offer myself to you like a gift from the lord of one manor to another.” She reaches out to touch his face, to turn it towards her.

“Don’t,” he rasps.

“Mulder, look at me.”

He shoves her hand away, stares at her. “I’m getting in your car,” he says. “Before we do something really stupid.”

Scully drops the Navajo blanket to the floor. She unpins her hair, lets it fall down her sticky neck to just past her shoulders. She sits back on her heels, wet dress like seaweed. “Mulder.”

“One of us needs to get the fuck out of this car,” he whispers, his voice ragged. He doesn’t move.

She unzips her dress, but it doesn’t fall away like she’d planned. It clings to the tops of her arms, the tops of her breasts, the back gaping open. Gooseflesh rises.

“I thought I could get out of the car,” she says. “ But maybe a joyride every so often isn’t such a bad idea. Henry says it’s not a moral failing, Mulder. And I’m quoting directly.”

They stare at one another, her face tipped up, her mouth swollen. Mulder gazes down at the shadow between her breasts.

Scully runs her tongue across her top lip.

He reaches forward, slides his hands down her shoulders, scraping the ruined silk away. His breath, his heart, are louder than the thunder.

She is bare to the waist now, her chest heaving, her dress a puddle between her hips and the quilted grey blanket. Her nipples ache.

Hail smashes against the windshield, and the wind howls.

She unbuttons his shirt, her fingers trembling, and his chest is deeper, broader than she remembered it. His scars are just as she left them.

Scully moves closer, her breasts grazing his skin when she kisses his neck, bites at it. He shudders, fingers tangling in her hair.

She cups his erection through his trousers.

“I thought you said…” he gasps, hands sliding down to plane her back.

“I thought I meant it,” she mumbles, unbuckling his belt, unfastening his fly.

“I wish you had,” he groans when she pulls his boxers to his knees.

Scully lays back on the blanket, her dress still rucked around her abdomen like a painting of Venus. She reaches beneath it to pull her underwear down, kicks them away.

Mulder is on top of her then, his hands on either side of her head, his shirt tenting her torso. He moves one hand against the hot skin between her thighs, comes away slick from even so little contact.

She whimpers as the storm roars, and he presses his wet fingers to her mouth.

“Scully,” he says, his eyes searching hers. “We can’t undo this, you know that.”

She knows, she knows, she saw what happened to Daniel’s family, what she had done.

“Please,” she says, raking her manicured nails down his back, her pelvis arched against his.  “Please.”

Mulder is not her conscience, and enters her in one thrust.

He cries out to her god.

***

It’s past one when she stumbles into the kitchen, past one by the little clock above the sink.

Henry jumps up from the ladderback chair. “Dana, thank God,” he says. “Mulder called about 45 minutes ago, said you’d left, but I couldn’t reach you.”

Scully holds up her phone, the screen black. “Ruined in the rain,” she says. She slumps into a chair, drained. “And the hail cracked my windshield.”

Henry watches her, concerned, then takes his robe off. “Look at you, you’re soaked.” He tucks the thick cotton around her, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “Dana?”

She leans up, kisses him. “I’m sorry, the roads were awful and I’m exhausted. I don’t remember a storm like that since Sandy.”

He runs his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling at her freckles. ”I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Scully nods, pressing his palm to her face, to her lips. She’d stood outside in the rain, after the storm burned itself out, to wash the yeasty scent of sex from her pores. She’s afraid, somehow, that it has lingered. That she is marked, tainted forever.

“Probably too much wine, too,” she admits ruefully. “I drank more than my fair share and my head hurts.”

“I got his text,” Henry tells her. “I’m glad he liked it.”

Scully looks back at him, her heart aching with how much she loves him, how much she despises herself. “Oh, yes,” she replies. “He loved your gift.”

 —

For everyone who asked.

***

He rattles up the driveway, the rattling a function of his automobile rather than the O'Keefes’ smooth asphalt. He parks under the basketball hoop, blocking the garage.

Fallen branches litter the yard. A shutter is down from one of the dormer windows, and the landscaping looks threadbare in places. A Japanese maple is split down the center.

Henry is gathering this debris from the storm, hauling it into a large pile in front of the house. He wears a Princeton sweatshirt and jeans, a Nationals cap pulled over his hair. He pauses in his work to greet Mulder. There are wet leaves on his hands.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” Mulder says, stepping over a rake to shake hands. “I was planning a drop-and-dash.” He holds out Scully’s wooden umbrella, her jumper cables.

“Well, you can just, um, set that stuff on the bench I suppose. Dana’s in surgery all day, but I can put it in her car when she gets home.” Henry jams his hands in his pockets, rocks back on his heels.

“Okay,” Mulder says. He lays the items on the bench, then surveys the yard with a kind of awe at the destruction. “Hell of a mess.”

Henry sighs. “I know they were calling for it, but I guess I wasn’t prepared for what we got. You know Dana has a big crack in her windshield.”

Mulder’s eyebrows go up, as this is news to him. “She okay?”

“Oh, she’s fine, but she was pretty shaken when she got home last night.” He studies Mulder carefully. “Must have been a rough drive home, huh?”

“Must have been.”

They are silent for a time.

“You need any help cleaning up?” Mulder asks. “It’s the least I could do after you were nice enough to buy me birthday champagne.”

Henry shakes his head. “No, thank you for the offer though. Glad you had a good night despite the weather. You’re hard to shop for, though Dana said you wouldn’t want a gift.”

Mulder looks away. “I don’t need much.“

Henry picks the rake up, leans on the handle as he presses the tines into the soft earth. “I love my wife,” he says. “And so do you. Some people might say that puts us at odds, Mulder.”

Mulder meets Henry’s gaze. “It would be an understandable, if incorrect assumption.”

Henry shifts. “I don’t want to be at odds with you. You….you’re her friend. You represent a part of her life I can never fully understand. When I lost Joan I thought I’d…well. I know we all have our ghosts.”

“Nothing happened last night, Henry.”

Henry stiffens. “Pardon?”

Mulder holds his hands out, open. “I feel like I need to just say it, okay? Nothing inappropriate happened. My battery was dead and we realized we both had too much to drink, so we waited the storm out in my car. Her phone got wet and ruined so she couldn’t call. She adores you and your kids and that Ewok of a dog.”

Henry closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. “Thanks for bringing her things back. I’ll tell her you came by.”

Mulder nods. He gets into his car and backs down the driveway, navigating fallen limbs as he does. On the radio, Tom Petty’s singing about his last dance with Mary Jane. Mulder turns the volume up and sings along.

***

Anonymous asked: We can just blame love for the Henry saga. Loved fucked all of them over. In Victorian times, after the free pass, Scully would've killed herself, Henry would remain unmarried for the rest of his life and refuse to talk about Dana, and Mulder would go on some stupid quest as penance and probably get himself killed.

I think I saw this movie and Gillian was very good in it.

***

Anonymous asked: I beginning to feel like eventually Henry is going to realize Scully's connection runs so deep emotionally that he's just not going to want to deal with it anymore. He says he's fine with how things are, how Scully doesn't tell him much about her past, that she is still very close to Mulder and gives her a free pass, but eventually he'll want more for himself in a relationship and leave her. In my mind, Scully want want that life and deserves it, but she unintentinally sabotages it.

I think you’re right. Scully has a deep self-destructive streak that rears its head on occasion. I think there’s a part of her that doesn’t feel like she deserves familial happiness after William, and that she doesn’t deserve Mulder or Henry. She’s almost created a perfect storm for herself where she can lose them both by capitalizing on their feelings for her.

***

Anonymous asked: How did Henry and Scully meet?

She wore navy peau de soie and nude stilettos, a beaded bag on her wrist. Her hair hung in sculpted waves just covering her collarbones.

She chatted, she mingled, and she ducked into the kitchen with unnecessary frequency to check the flow of the food.

“Everything’s fine, Dr. Scully,” the staff assured her each time. She pursed her lips, scanning the bison tartare and vol au vents. She sampled a grilled shrimp, nodding tersely.

Scully calmed herself with a third vodka tonic, a poor decision, she knew, but the bar was open and her nerves jangled.

“It’s perfect, Dana,” her intern said, a glass of white wine in her manicured hand. She was a child, scarcely old enough to legally consume her drink. Her father was Someone.

Scully smiled, thanked her. The crowd was too dense, the room too warm, and the talk too loud. There was drunken laughter, cloying perfume. She longed for home, for the reliability of solitude.

Next to her, a man in a grey suit ordered a 15 year Macallan, neat. Scully appraised him out of habit, saw the fine tailoring and coordinating pocket square. The haircut was good, the shoes excellent. She sensed funds for her pet project.

“Dana Scully,” she said, holding out her free hand.

He took it with his left. There was no ring. “Henry O'Keefe,” he said. “You’re on the committee, aren’t you?”

Scully blinked in surprise. “I am,” she said. “Have we met?”

He shook his head. “My firm’s the title sponsor and I recognized your name.”

She smiled in the way she knew people liked, all her teeth on display. “Impressive. Have you checked out the auction items yet?”

He nodded. “There’re a few things I’d like for my kids, I put in some bids. Quite a variety this year.”

“It’s much appreciated. I hope you win them.” She left a tip for the bartender, turning to go.

Fingers at her back, and she sucked in her breath at the ghost of a memory.

“Dr. Scully?”

She turned back to Henry O'Keefe. “Yes?”

He looked into his drink, then at her. “It’s a very good cause.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps…perhaps you could tell me more about it. About how you got involved. It would be nice to hear from someone with passion rather than just a calculation for client endearment.” He offered her a hopeful smile.

Scully set her empty glass on the bar. “I’d love to,” she said. She rested her hand on his offered forearm, and waded back into the fray.

***

Anonymous asked: Henry story: if Mulder and Scully were asked to consult the FBI on a strange case (and a once only basis), what would happen?

She’s got a stack of patient files next to her, dog-eared, the corners grubby. Scully dutifully logs their contents into her computer, wishing the hospital would spring for software upgrades. Her phone rings, startling her from the mind-numbing task.

“Mulder?”

“There’s a case.”

She pecks at the keyboard. “I’m sorry, but the person you’re trying to reach is no longer available. Please hang up and try your call again.”

“I’m not kidding. You’ve gotta make arrangements, you’ve gotta-”

“Mulder, slow down. What the hell is going on? What case, why are you freaking out like this?”

A pause. “It’s Skinner.”

***

“I realize the government is slow with the red tape, but they are aware that they no longer employ you, correct?” Henry’s fingers tap his forehead as he paces the kitchen.

She traces her nail along the grain of the kitchen table. “Strictly consulting,” she says. “All behind the scenes. Probably no longer than a week.”

“Forgive me, but why you two? Why now?”

She looks down. “It’s classified.”

“Of course. And where will you be going? Can I know that at least?”

“Classified,“ she whispers, still not meeting his eyes.

Henry throws his hands in the air. “Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. Your whole life is classified, why shouldn’t this be too?”

Scully squeezes her eyes shut. Any other case and she would have said no. Anything else and she would have hung up on Mulder, gone back to her filing, eaten Viv’s outstanding lasagna, and gone to bed.

“Are you allowed to say no, even? I mean, you’re a civilian, right? They can’t force you to do anything.”

“I have to,” she says, heartsick. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But I have to.” Her throat is tight.

Henry knuckles the counter, his back to her. “I have never asked you anything, Dana. Not a single goddamned thing. I agreed to leave the past behind and move forward, but it seems to keep popping up. Flying off with your ex husband to your ex job? I’m supposed to be fine with that when I know…” He shakes his head.

“When you know what?” she breathes, nauseous. She is afraid he will say it, even though she knows he knows.

Henry turns, his eyes hard. “Enough, okay? I know enough.” He considers her. “What would you do if I said no?”

She is taken aback, this possibility not having occurred to her. “I didn’t think we forbade each other things, Henry,” she says slowly.

“The requests are getting pretty one-sided. So what would you do?”

She presses her trembling hands flat to the table, palms cool against the lacquered wood. “I’d go anyway,” she says. “Not for anyone else, but for Ski-” she bites off the end of her sentence, furious with herself.

Henry sits across from her at the table. “For whom?”

 She remains silent, shaken.

“Classified,” he says, with faint contempt. “Right.”

Scully chews her lip until the inside of it bleeds. Experience has taught her that there are reckonings, crossroads past which a life can take on an entirely new direction. She does not want this to be one of them.

They look at each other for what seems like a very long time.

“Henry,” she says carefully. “What I’m about to do is completely illegal, all right? I’m putting your life and my life in danger by telling you this. But you’re right; I owe it to you. To us.” She reaches across the table for his hand.

Henry nods. “I understand.”

He doesn’t; he can’t possibly, but she plows ahead before she loses her nerve. “FBI Director Walter Skinner has been taken by a militia group called the New Spartans. We believe he’s being held inside their compound, located near Casper Mountain, Wyoming.”

Henry gapes. “The Director. Of the FBI. Has been kidnapped?”

“So it would seem.”

Henry shakes his head, appalled. He withdraws his hand from hers to run through his hair.“Why isn’t this national news, why isn’t the, uh…who? The SEALS or the Army Rangers all over this? Why are they pulling two agents out of retirement to deal with a huge fucking disaster? Were you hostage negotiators, what?”

“No. But we….um. We, along with Director Skinner, have dealt with this group before. Mulder infiltrated them undercover at one point. August Bremer, their former leader, spared Mulder’s life at one point.” She looks at him sadly, reminding herself of all that he doesn’t know.

“Shouldn’t they be making demands, on TV or something, I don’t know…. Bragging?” Sweat beads on Henry’s brow, and he wipes at it with a paper napkin.

Scully shakes her head. “Maybe in a Bond flick. These are not people who want attention. They see themselves as the last true patriots and this is symbolic for them, for their followers. They don’t want to cut a deal with the federal government. They’re anarchists, and see no difference between the FBI and the KGB, Henry. This is a power move.”

Henry, dazed, shreds the paper napkin into minuscule fragments. “How the hell did they get him, anyway?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, she figures. What’s a little more treason between husband and wife? “A member of the group had been leaking plans to the Director for about eighteen months, all of it credible. The source claimed that the New Spartans had been working with anti-federal groups overseas to plan an attack that would take down power grids in 20 major US cities. Based on our prior dealings with the group, the Director found this consistent with their MO. He agreed to meet with the source to obtain satellite footage of the other groups’ headquarters. But it turned out to be a setup, an ambush. Four agents were killed and the Director was badly injured.”

Her husband looks ill. “My god,” he mumbles. “And you’re wading back into this? And I’m supposed to just nod and wave like it’s fine?”

“Just consulting, Henry, I promise.” She speaks softly, like she does when the twins wake up from nightmares they can’t remember. “I’m past fifty, and hardly in peak form. Intel only.”

“But why, Dana? Can’t someone else do this?” His voice is pleading.

“I owe him my life, Mulder’s life,” she says. “He risked himself to save us. And when I had no one, nothing, he was there.” She shrugs. “It’s a debt I never thought I could repay.”

Henry frowns. “No one and nothing? Dana, what happened to you?”

And now, Scully knows, now is the crossroad. She gulps air, takes her husband’s hands again in her own.

“I have a son,” she says.

***

@perplexistan asked: I need something from the Henry-verse. Something happy, though. Maybe Scully finally divorcing Henry and going back to Mulder. I know that's not the point of this AU, which I truly do love, but I just want it. Sue me.

You are asking a lot of our friendship. Can’t I just send you cookies?

***

Anonymous asked: Who is being eaten up by the repercussions of free pass more Mulder or scully?

Scully for sure. I think that, particularly post IWTB, he’s stopped taking responsibility for her decisions. I have a line in there where I say that Mulder is not her conscience, and I think he really feels that way now. She’s a grown woman capable of making her own choices. I think he knows what they did was wrong, but Scully isn’t some wide-eyed innocent anymore.

***

Anonymous asked: Does Viv know about Emily and William? Has she met/seen Mulder?

Henry doesn’t know about Emily and William. Viv has met Mulder twice. She thinks he’s a compelling, charming weirdo but, given her stepmother’s tendency to organize closets by color and make spreadsheets for every conceivable topic, she’s baffled that they were together as long as she’s heard they were.

***

For all the anons who have so sweetly asked after Henry, here’s a little intersection with Ghouli.

***

Simon and Alice run squealing from the living room, slamming into Scully when she comes around the corner from the kitchen.

She staggers back under their combined weight, bumping into the dog. “What’s wrong?” she asks, steadying herself against the counter.

Viv stalks in behind them, waving her phone. “I told them it was too scary,” she says. “But they hid behind the couch to read over my shoulder, and now they’re all freaked out.” She punches Simon in the arm. “Serves you right.”

“We’re never sleeping again,” Alice asserts, cuddling against Scully.

“Ever,” Simon adds, punching Viv back.

Scully rubs Alice’s small back, running her fingers through her thick hair. The irrational squabbles of children are still hard for her to follow, but she tries. “What was too scary?”

“Ghouli,” Viv says, crunching into an apple.

***

Scully is curled up on the chaise longue in her bedroom, lost in reading, when Henry comes in. He’s shed his suit for pajama pants and a Georgetown sweatshirt. Scully smiles at his mussed hair, an untidy silver haystack from wrestling with the twins. The nails of his left hand are painted with purple glitter polish.

“You get them settled?” she asks.

He rubs his face. “Yeah, finally. Alice is good, but Simon’s still pretty sure this Ghouli thing is coming to eat our family.” He sits at the edge of the chaise, reaching out to massage Scully’s neck. His hands cover her shoulders, thumbs meeting at the base of her cervical spine.

“Mmmmmm,” she says, rolling her head forward. “You’re going to distract me.”

“That’s the plan,” he says, trailing butterfly kisses along her jaw, then stops when he notices what’s on the screen. “What the hell is that?”

“Ghouli, apparently. Viv showed me the site. it’s pretty well done, actually. I can see why they’re freaked out.” The drawing of the monster has the clean, architectural lines of a scientific sketch.

Henry stretches out on the chaise, wrapping himself around her. Scully tucks herself into the solid warmth of his body and adjusts her laptop so that they can both see. Late night cuddling over images of cryptids brings back memories that she shakes off.

As though reading her mind, Henry says, “So whatcha thinking, Agent Scully? This is your former wheelhouse, right?”

She shrugs. “Not exactly It’s fascinating from a cultural standpoint, I suppose. I was talking to Viv about it. There’s an internet phenomenon called ‘creepypasta,’ kind of like urban legends with a paranormal bent. Some of them have taken on a sort of folk-tale quality.”

Henry tucks her head beneath his chin. “Is this that Slenderman thing? Those two girls in Wyoming?”

“Wisconsin,” Scully corrects. “Yes, like Slenderman.” She switches tabs, pulling up a new post. “Ceci n'est ce pas une pipe,” she reads, in her bad French.

“This is not a pipe,” Henry translates, musing. “What the hell does that mean?”

Scully taps her lips. “It’s a reference to a painting by Rene Magritte. He did, um, a painting of a pipe with this phrase below it, as a reminder that the symbol of the thing is not the thing itself. The map is not the territory. It’s a semiotic concept addressed by Alfred Korzybski.”

Henry kisses her temple. “You didn’t even have to Google that, did you?”

She, grins, admits that she did not.

“So hot,” Henry says. “Anyway, so what? Some emo kid who’s read too much Sartre decided to make some of this, uh, creepypasta stuff.”

Scully scrolls around some more. “Probably. It’s just impressively complex. Like, here. Look at this. It’s got a Baconian cypher, it references atomic bomb tests,it’s got sketches of RNA…which. That’s odd, actually.”

“Hmmm?”

“Well, the post with the RNA base is by a user named K/OMouse. I’m guessing it refers to knockout mice. Those are mice whose DNA has been altered, so why include RNA nucleotides instead of DNA? And an RNA nucleotide shouldn’t contain a diphosphate, but there are two phosphate groups here, plus that terminal oxygen should be double bonded to this carbon, or be a hydroxyl, or at least have a negative sign.” She doesn’t notice that her voice has grown agitated.

Henry has. “Uh, Dana? I think maybe you should avoid this site with Simon and Alice. Go play Neko Atsume for a while, hmmm?”

Scully takes a deep breath. He’s right, of course he’s right.

It’s nothing.

She closes her laptop, laughing a little. “I guess I’m Rever’s target audience.”

Henry grins. “I’ll try to distract you again.”

She ignores the little itch in her amygdala, in her entorhinal cortex, and follows him to bed.

***

It’s two AM and Henry is sleeping, bare-chested and peaceful on the other side of the room. Wicket, dense and furry, is sprawled like a wolf pelt over his feet. Their breathing is even and steady, a lulling hum in the back of her head. It steadies her like a heartbeat. Like the sea.

Her eyes flit back and forth between tabs, her face bathed in the blue glow. She looks at the post by K/OMouse again. The alien head, the RNA.

Alien head, RNA

RNA, virus.

Viral replication occurs via mRNA.

Something tickles her brain again, that little itch.

A virus.

An alien virus.

Purity control.

She grabs a notepad to organize her thoughts.

Baltimore classification?

Two phosphate groups = diphosphate nucleoside? Or non-terrestrial?

It is not the pipe - it is not the territory - what does Ghouli represent?

She looks at KO/Mouse’s post again, copies down the code he’s written. She begins working on it before seeing that user Elizabeth has helpfully done this work for her.

weseeyouwilliamvandekampweknowwhoyouare

andifweknowthentheyknowwhichyoushouldknow

crossroadswasonceanatombombandnowitisyou

WilliamWilliamWilliam pounds in her head.

Her vision is black, suddenly. And just as suddenly she sees a farm, idyllic and flat beneath an Ansel Adams sky.

Back to her room in a flash, gasping for air. Back to Henry dreaming in the safe warmth of their bed.

It’s 2:37 by her watch, but time is only a human construct. She pads out to the hall and down the stairs. She dials, and he answers on the third ring.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

[missaudreyhorney]

(Almost) Every Idea Ever

Although I rarely ever finish writing a fic, that never stops me from getting new ideas for them. Terrible, horrible, dumpster fire ideas. Okay, some of them are wholesome on occasion, but mostly it’s just filth. I've excluded a couple of things because either they were just too awful to mention or I’m currently working on them and I want it to be a surprise.

The first story I started to write this year was original fiction but with the main male character heavily inspired by Jim Hopper. It was about a recently married young woman having an affair with her father-in-law. This really set a precedent for the rest of my ideas and should indicate to you the level of depravity on this list.

Hopper x Reader:

Hurts So Good series - In 1982, Reader is Mayor Kline’s daughter and has a crush on Chief Hopper. She decides to pursue him and things don’t go quite as planned but they still end up having steamy, rough sex. A secret affair begins between the two of them but it eventually leads to heartbreak. Heavy emphasis on Dom/sub and pain kink. - Initial pursuit, fingering in the car, sex (60%) - Phone sex the following day (70%) - Rough sex, bordering on consensual nonconsent (partially written) - Introduction to Daddy kink (notes) - Body worship (notes) - Bruise kink (notes) - Facesitting (50%) - hurt/comfort throatfucking, an argument, angst/fluff (75%) - Orgasm denial/control (70%) - Possible gunplay? (Unwritten) - Disciplinary spanking (notes)

Dress You Up series - In 1985, Hopper meets plus-size!Reader at JCPenney when he comes in to pick out a shirt for his date. After Joyce stands him up, he decides to come back and ask Reader out instead. Probably the cutest idea I’ve ever had for smut. Inspired by flamehairedwritings and flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash. - 1st meeting, 2nd meeting, date, sex (50%) - 2nd date, a continuation of My First Drabble (partially written) - Meeting El and she’s standoffish (notes)

Domestic Smut - Reader and husband!Hopper are at the cabin alone together one weekend. After breakfast, she tries to wash the dishes but the sink is broken, the water squirting everywhere. A water fight turns into a tickle fight which turns into kitchen table sex. (50%)

Hopper blindfolding Reader during sex at the cabin (Notes)

Hopper blindfolding Reader during a blowjob in his office at the police station (Minimal notes)

Hopper rubbing a popsicle on Reader’s body then licking it off (Minimal notes)

Hopper coming over to Reader’s house, unannounced, late at night, in the rain, for a quick rough fuck. Inspired by one of the pictures from the Playboy shoot. (Partially written)

Licking Hopper’s hand and arm veins to get his attention while he reads the Sunday newspaper. (Unwritten)

Sucking Hopper’s cock while he smokes a cigar on the porch and either ignores you or looks at you with disdain. Inspired by a compilation video of David smoking a cigar on Instagram Live. (Unwritten)

Consensual nonconsent fantasy where Hopper touches Reader and tells her to say no to him while he’s making her cum. Rough, forceful sex immediately follows. (Partially written)

Bootlicker - anti-cop Reader has a secret fetish for cops and Hopper is more than happy to oblige them and keep quiet about it. (Notes)

Working out my own personal issues via smut, bigender-questioning AFAB Reader puts on Hopper’s uniform shirt and hat. Much to their delight, he says they look like a boy. He also says “If you’re going to dress like a boy, I’m going to fuck you like one.” Basically just incredible anal sex while Hopper calls Reader a good boy. Extremely niche subject but the fantasy of this is so affirming to me, I can’t not think about it. (Notes)

Hopper x Reader requests

A sequel to Little Magnum where the dog is a few years older. There is maybe also a cat? (Unwritten)

Fire & Ice - Reader is playing in the snow when it’s getting dark outside. Hopper tells them to come in but they don’t listen. Reader falls and hurts their ankle then Hopper gets angry at their disobedience. Not because he’s a jerk, but because he can’t imagine his life without Reader and doesn’t want to lose them. Angsty hurt/comfort. (~70%)

Replacement idea since Fire & Ice was much too angsty - Reader gets stung by a bee and Hopper freaks out. Reader is fine but he babies them nonetheless, because again, his greatest fear is losing them. Very cute and silly. (unwritten)

Freezeframe - Reader bought Hopper a Polaroid camera for his birthday and he hasn’t used it months later. Taking matters into her own hands, she uses the camera for some naughty selfies. Once Hopper finds the pictures, he decides to assume the role of photographer and gets some very intimate shots of Reader. (80-85%)

Morning Wood - Reader lets themself into the cabin early one Summer morning and sees Hopper in bed, fully nude, just a sheet covering the part they want to see most. Hop wakes up, invites Reader into bed with him, and a blowjob ensues. Very detailed description of his body. (Notes)

Hopper gets injured and needs Reader to patch him up. She gets pissed though for him being in yet another dangerous situation where he yet again gets hurt. Reader reprimanding him leads to confessions of feelings which leads to sex. (Unwritten)

Reader has been feeling ignored by Hopper lately and decides to make him jealous to get his attention. She flirts with another man at a bar while Hopper watches and seethes with rage. He punishes her by dragging her into the parking lot then spanking over the tailgate of his Chevy Blazer. Rough sex and more spanking goes down back at the cabin. Based on my jealous!Hopper headcanon post. (Partially written)

Principal Hopper  - One of the worst ideas I’ve ever had, which is saying A LOT. High school principal Hopper catches one of his 18-year-old female students spying on him between classes and confronts her about it. Sexual tension bubbles up until neither of them can control themselves. Based on a fantasy told to me by a friend who I will not name. (Notes)

Hopper x Reader AUs

Messing Around With Jim series - A continuation of The Big Game, Afterschool Special, and Third Time’s A Charm. Modern!Hopper and Reader having all kinds of sex. - Fingering, gentle sex, tender orgasm control (50%) - Period sex, vibrator (Notes) - First blowjob, a continuation of A Sampling (partially written) - Hop eating Reader’s pussy for his birthday (minimal notes) - Fingering in the car, truck bed sex (notes) - Another blowjob, rough sex over the hood of a car (partially written) - Pussy eating at the park (notes) - Hop not understanding FaceTime, fluff, smut (unwritten) - Roleplaying how they met, sex at Reader’s parents house (notes) - July 4th fingering, rough sex, surprises (notes) - Remote control vibrator (partially written) - More pussy eating, this time in Hop’s cutting edge shirt (partially written) - Yet another blowjob, this time in a movie theater (unwritten) - Jealousy resulting in overstimulation/”forced” orgasms (notes) - 4 part miniseries about butt plugs/anal sex (notes) - Confronting her parents, angst (55-60%) - Learning about Sara, ANGST! (notes)

Vacation series - modem!Hopper and Reader go on vacation together. That’s it, that’s the plot. Idea from David’s Croatian vacation pics and conversations with Tayler. All just notes at this point. - Christening the hotel bed - Bratty Reader getting semi-publicly punished - Hopper taking care of drunk!Reader, humor, fluff - Double date

carpenter!Hopper - Reader is recently divorced and hires Hop to make repairs on her house before she sells it. Graphic detail of him doing manly things like sawing and hammering. Porn with plot. Inspired by another friend, she knows who she is. (Notes in the form of a 500-word summary)

Detective Hopper - various bits and pieces of ideas inspired by David being digitally handcuffed to Darren Criss and Michael Stuhlbarg in Vanity Fair, plus a few pictures in 2016. (Unwritten)

Captain Hopper - a collaboration with @pkg4mumtown. She said she was thinking about fire captain!Hopper rescuing her from a burning building and I told her my pre-existing firefighter idea of being saved and then wanting to thank him in a variety of ways. Things snowballed from there and I decided we need to write it. Mostly just notes so far. - Initial meeting, first date, sex - Second date, making dinner together, sex

Hopper x Joyce:

There is a list of my Jopper ideas (Various degrees of notes)

Teenage Joyce and Hopper meeting in high school and their relationship that follows. Maybe a oneshot? Maybe a series? (Notes)

Hopper x Billy: (Over 18-years-old and no longer in high school!)

1940/50’s AU - Hopper meets expat Billy at a cigar club while on vacation in Havana. A familiar face, so to speak, in a foreign land. Hop pays Billy to take him back to his apartment and “keep him company”. Maybe two chapters? Inspired by a photo of Dacre Montgomery in GQ Germany. (Partially written.)

Hopper catches Billy “renting his time” at a truck stop outside of town and threatens to arrest him, but Billy bribes him with sex. (Unwritten.) I’m sorry but there’s just something about the idea of rent boy Billy that I absolutely love.

Hopper + Billy + Reader - completely implausible threeway (Unwritten)

David Harbour RPF:

AU where instead of being an actor, he’s a drama teacher at a high school in New York City and the kids from Stranger Things are his students. Pure fluff. (Please write this for me!)

Giving him a blow job before an important event. TWO different versions. Inspired by numerous photos of David wearing a robe. (Minimal notes)

Riding his thigh and everything that entails. Inspired by a picture of David from GQ Mexico. (Minimal notes)

touch-starved!David hires a sexworker during the pandemic because he’s lonely quarantining by himself. No sex. He literally just wants a hug and someone to be affectionate with him. Unconventional fluff. (Unwritten)

Other DKH-related shenanigans:

Let’s Ride sequel - Reader goes on a second date with Deacon from SoulCycle, they go out for sashimi and end up at his place. He has a cat that he inherited from a neighbor. Reader teaches him how to put her in a chokehold. (Unwritten)

Alexei Shostakov smut - some type of Bond Girl situation where Reader has to seduce him. Just an excuse for me to lovingly describe his large tattooed body in vivid detail. (Unwritten)

The Stranger - Reader has an ongoing affair with a mysterious man whose name is never mentioned. They meet at high society functions and hook up in fancy hotels. One night, he finds out that she’s married and punishes her for her dishonesty. Inspired by a photo of David looking annoyed in a tuxedo. (Notes)

Daddy Dom/little girl roleplay fantasy. Sweet, smutty, and slightly taboo. (Notes)

Daddy’s Little...Helper - Me, as submissive!Reader, watching Daddy jack off right in front of my face after he comes home from work. Based on a conversation with an Instagram friend and a picture of David in the play “Cal In Camo” where he’s holding a beer bottle between his legs. (65%)

Stranger Things x Twin Peaks crossover - Chief Jim Hopper comes to Twin Peaks to help Special Agent Dale Cooper solve some type of paranormal mystery. Perhaps a parallel between The Black Lodge and The Upside Down? I think this would work really really well, but I can’t write it myself. (Please write this for me!)

In conclusion: Yes, I know I need to have my head examined. Yes, I know I spend too much time thinking about Jim Hopper. Let me know if you LIKE these ideas. Please do not let me know if you hate these ideas.

Tagging: @manawhaat @strangest-hour @007swhore @kingphillipblake @david-harbour-arg @misshawkins1993 @oxforddrama 

[eurynome827]

Reflecting Light: Part Two

Sebastian Stan x OFC (series masterlist in main masterlist in blog description)

Word Count: 1,839

Warnings: little angsty, mostly cute

A/N: This is posting today after three months of limbo simply because @cchellacat brainstormed with me last night and got me excited again. Thank you so much, friend, for your support and love for this fic, and your belief that this is a story worth telling.

Reflecting Light Tags: @rubyrosettared @kcd15 @goodiebluebox

*

Molly pulled the car into the driveway, turned the engine off and turned to face her daughter. For her part, Violet was trying to tame her grin.

"C'mon Mom. You have to admit, this is hilarious!"

"Vi. I need you to knock it off. We need to act like professionals."

"I will!"

"So, no more talk about my crush and we can act like grown-ups?"

"Mom, he thought that was funny. He said it was cute."

Molly dropped her head onto the steering wheel and jumped when she honked the horn with her forehead. At that moment, Violet's phone started to ring.

"I bet this is him!" Vi giggled and answered the call, "Hello? Hi!" She opened the car door and ran to the back door, leaving her backpack and mother in the car. Molly sighed, gathered their things and headed into the house.

Molly had no idea how long Violet was on the phone with Sebastian. She hadn't appeared an hour later when Molly was getting her son off the school bus in front of the house, and an hour passed after that before Molly heard a text notification on her phone.

'Thanks for the number, we're getting along great. Can't wait for tomorrow, text me your address when you have a chance.'

Molly sighed, and climbed the stairs. She knocked once on Violet's door and entered, glaring at her daughter. "Were you just going to let me be surprised when he showed up?"

"Jeez, you're such a drama queen."

"Watch yourself, Violet Mae."

"Okay, okay, sorry. NO. He said he would text you for the address. I told him Wednesdays were pizza night and he said he loves pizza. He's really cool, Mom, this is gonna be awesome."

A thousand thoughts rolled through Molly's head. Maybe it was best to get this meeting over and done with, and hopefully alleviate her awkwardness. Violet started speaking again, as if she had read her mother's thoughts. "He's just a guy, Mom. Someday I'll be famous, but I'll always be your kid." She gave her mother a cheeky grin, and went back to the Vine compilation she was watching on YouTube.

Sebastian pulled up to the house the next day at 6 PM on the dot. Violet was on the front steps waving, and when he emerged from the car she was down the steps in a flash, throwing her arms around his waist in a big hug. He laughed and circled his arms around her and Molly's breath caught in her throat as she watched from the enclosed porch. Violet didn't give affection this easily. She never had. Violet tugged on Sebastian's hand and pulled him toward the house and Molly opened the door for them.

"It's so nice to officially meet you," Molly stuck her hand out to shake his, but he pulled her forward into a hug and she found herself relaxing into it, all anxiety melting away.

"Molly." He smiled down at her, and then scrunched his nose at Violet, who giggled.

"Hi." Molly grinned back, and then pointed to the open door leading to the rest of the house. "Come on in!"

As they entered, five year old Jack skidded to a stop in front of them. He narrowed his eyes, pointed at Sebastian and exclaimed, "BUCKY."

Violet snorted and Molly knelt down to her son. "Jack, we talked about this, remember. This is Violet's new friend. Sebastian."

Sebastian knelt beside Molly to get on Jack's level, and was greeted with the little boy's sunny smile. “Hey, Jack.”

"BASHTIN."

Molly laughed a little and booped his nose. "Bashtin will do." She turned to look at Sebastian, "I hope you don't mind. I know I'm supposed to correct his pronunciations but I can't help thinking it's so cute."

"I love it," Sebastian held his hand up for a high five and Jack slapped it with glee, then ran off to resume his game in the living room. There was a quiet moment in the entryway as the adults stood up again.

"SO," Molly was perhaps a little too loud, "pizza will be here in about half an hour, did you two want to go upstairs or in the backyard so you can talk where Jack won't interrupt you?"

"Backyard," Vi walked off through the kitchen toward the back door, looking over her shoulder to see if Sebastian was following her. "You said you wanted to see the hammock."

"Yes, she spends most of her time reading out in the hammock when she's not in her room watching YouTube," Molly looked up at Sebastian and was struck at how she felt immediately at ease. Yes, he was handsome for sure but it wasn't intimidating.

"Are you okay with that? I really don't want to overstep my bounds," he spoke to Molly quietly, right next to her ear, and she smiled up at him.

"Please! Go have fun, don't let her boss you around," Molly gave him a friendly little push on his arm and the firmness of his bicep did NOT go unnoticed. He grinned in a sheepish (really cute) way and started out through the kitchen. Molly turned in a complete circle and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling ear to ear.

When Molly opened the back door to let them know the pizza had arrived, Violet was trying to coax Sebastian out of the giant double hammock.

"NO, you have to swing your legs over first, or you'll fall out!"

"Pizza is here!" Molly yelled and then promptly slammed the door and walked back into the kitchen. There was no way she was planning to watch the man of her dreams fall out of a hammock in her backyard.

Everything must have worked out because two giggling humans emerged five minutes later. "FINALLY." Jack greeted them and then shouted, "AWEXA, play pizza night playlist!"

"Pizza Night Playlist, playing now," and the opening guitar strums of 'Yellow Submarine' filled the downstairs.

"Jack's favorites are on first," Vi explained, moving towards the dining room until Molly's voice stopped her.

"Wash up first, please."

Violet rolled her eyes and pulled on Sebastian's arm. "Come on."

Molly giggled as they passed by, "Yes, kids, wash your hands."

He looked back at her with a lopsided grin.

This was surreal.

By the time they returned 'Yellow Submarine' had faded into 'Crazy Train' and Jack was aggressively air guitar-ing throughout the living room. Violet responded as always by flossing.

"Welcome to the mad house," Molly shouted to Sebastian. "Alexa, lower volume. Everyone sit down!"

Molly and Violet rushed to swallow their mouthfuls of pizza when 'You're My Best Friend' started playing. "Ooh, you make me live," they harmonized, Violet taking the middle with Molly on top.

Violet pointed to herself and sang with Freddie, "Whatever this world can give to me, It's you you're all I see."

"OH taking lead, I see how it is!" Molly fake-grumbled.

"You can have it on the next verse!"

Molly glanced over and noticed Sebastian watching them with a sweet smile and all of her nerve crumbled back down inside of her. "No, honey, you keep lead! I was just teasing."

For the rest of the meal she kept her attention on her own food and on Jack, and then took him with her upstairs to read books and get ready for bed. It was already past Violet's bedtime when she returned, but the two of them were still engaged in animated conversation.

"Vi, I'm sorry love, but it's time to wrap it up."

Molly gathered up the plates and empty pizza box from the table, waving off Sebastian's offer to help, and brought them into the kitchen to give Violet a chance to say goodbye.

"Can you come back next week?"

There was a hopeful, vulnerable tone to Violet's voice that Molly had never heard before. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to look into the dining room toward what she knew she would see: Sebastian looking to her for his answer. Molly nodded to him.

"I'd love to."

Molly attempted to make sense of her thoughts as she put the dishes in the dishwasher, hearing them leave the dining room and walk toward the front door. She couldn't hear what they were saying but she saw Violet's happy face and watched her throw her arms around his waist in a hug.

Two weeks until rehearsals started. Four weeks of rehearsals. Twelve weeks of performances. A clock ticking down until Violet's broken heart.

"Night, Mom!" Violet called as she ran up the stairs to her room. Molly walked out with Sebastian to the outside steps, nervously quiet.

"Thanks for dinner, and everything," he leaned down and kissed Molly's cheek. "Good night."

Molly silently watched as he walked to the car and then her voice burst out in an out-of-body experience. "WAIT!"

She had startled him, but she wasn't thinking straight. Rushing over to him she spoke quieter but still intensely. "I need to tell you something. I have never seen her like that. I've never seen her ....trust a man. Hug a man like that." Molly looked down and nervously tangled her fingers together. "She and I haven't had the easiest time, with...her father."

He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. "She told me a little, but I didn't want to push her."

"We don't have a lot of experience with this. I know you need to form a bond with her. But I don't want her to get too close and then get hurt."

He looked into her eyes and she saw only understanding. "I would never abuse her trust, I promise you."

Molly let herself trust the sincerity in his eyes. "I believe you."

"Listen, you need to know that this is going to be huge for her. I know they haven't told you, but she was their first and only choice. All those auditions you took her on were for the men, not her. I'm the one who had something to lose in that room. Violet is special."

Molly looked down and away from his eye contact, her own eyes filling with tears that embarassed her. "Thank you."

"Hey," Molly looked up as his quiet call for her attention. "You're doing an amazing job. It couldn't have been easy."

Molly shrugged. "We do what we need to."

They stood quietly for a few minutes, processing this sudden intimacy of sharing secrets. His hands were still on her shoulders and Molly let herself step back instead of throwing herself into his arms like she wanted to. It was hard to take a deep breath. The distance made it easier to clear her head. She smiled. "See you next week?"

"I'll try to study the playlist," Sebastian grinned at her and she couldn't help the laugh that burst out.

"You do that. Just don't try to take lead from Vi!" She took a few more steps backwards. "Good night."

"Good night."

[eigwayne]

Happy Birthday Choriisu Setsuna!

Gundam 00 Week, Day 6 - April 7th Can also be interpreted as: Setsuna’s birthday, UC Gundam crossover/AU, Gunpla, Mobile Suits

Saji and Louise discover it’s Setsuna’s birthday. The world’s tamest birthday party ensues, but ‘tame’ doesn’t mean Setsuna knows what to do. Birthday fluff, chorii~su!

———–

It’s set toward the end of the first season and there are some references to events in Season One, so mild spoilers. There’s also a reference so a drama track but you should be able to get the joke without it? I hope?

Or you can watch/read these:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXKA_9RoRY8

http://dramacdtranslations.tumblr.com/post/55193324939/cd-drama-special-mobile-suit-gundam-00-another

Oh, and the AO3 mirror for the story is here.

———–

“Sa~ji~” Louise whined. “But I don’t like him!”

“Louise,” Saji said, who resisted the urge to whine himself and instead tried to placate her, somehow. “You do not not like him. Plus, it’s his birthday, and Sis said he was all alone over there.” He didn’t know how or when Kinue had gotten their taciturn neighbor’s birthday out of him, or even when they had talked at all, but she had.

“Oh. That’s sad.” Louise’s expression fell and she stopped kicking her feet against the couch. “No one should be alone on their birthday.”

She said it with such a melancholy tone that Saji suspected she had been alone for one of hers. It wasn’t the last one; she’d been with him for that and the date they’d gone on had cost him an arm and a leg. But she’d smiled the whole time so it had totally been worth it. Louise’s smile was like sunshine.

“So does that mean you’ll go next door and get him so I can finish decorating the cake?” Saji asked gently.

“I’ll do it,” she said. There was a pout in her voice and she bounced off the couch with more force than was strictly necessary, but she headed to the door, her hair swishing against her back.

Saji sighed heavily, wishing she wouldn’t put on such a show all the time, and turned back to the cake.

*~*~*~*~*

Louise knocked loudly on the neighbor boy’s door. “Setsuna?” she called. She waited, not exactly patiently, for him to get to the door. She could hear him moving inside so she wasn’t leaving. She told Saji she would get him, so she was going to get him.

Finally the door opened a crack and Setsuna’s gold-brown eyes peeked out. “Louise Halevy,” he said by way of greeting.

“Good afternoon, Setsuna,” she said, putting on her brightest smile. “I’ve come to invite you over to Saji’s.”

“Thank you. No,” he said, and started to close the door.

Louise was a smart girl. She’d already tucked her toe in the crack, expecting him to shut the door at least once. Instead of closing shut, the door was stopped by her shoe.

“Saji has been working really hard on this meal,” she scolded. “And I know you’re not doing anything for your birthday, you’re too quiet to be doing something. So you are going to come to Saji’s and have some food and cake and I bought you a present so you’re coming over.”

Setsuna was a smart boy. He’d already picked up that he shouldn’t refuse Louise, especially when she got that tone. “All right. Let me put on a shirt.”

Louise’s eyes widened at the thought that he might not be dressed. Her gaze fell and she caught a glimpse of a bare arm (what on earth did he do to get such muscle definition as a just-turned-seventeen-year-old!?), and she quickly looked away from the crack in the door, her cheeks getting hot. But she didn’t move her foot in case he tried to close the door and escape. There was a soft rustling and he came back to the door with a plain, high-colored button down shirt that he was swiftly doing the buttons on.

“Are we going?” he said in the same flat tone as always. Louise let out a small, annoyed huff, and whirled on her heel. She had half a mind to close Saji’s door in Setsuna’s face.

*~*~*~*~*

Setsuna hadn’t had a real birthday party since he was eight or so. There was a few attempts to exchange gifts in the interim years, but they were mostly hushed, hurried affairs, the other boys in the KGB giving him tokens, and him returning the favor when he could. Those gifts were useful and therefore used, or destroyed in the fighting. Gone.

So he was completely out of his element even though his ‘party’ consisted of himself, Saji Crossroad, and Louise Halevy. Louise chattered to fill up the quiet, and Saji played host, and Setsuna sat like a lump.

The food was great, though, and he happily cleaned his plate and nodded when Saji asked if he wanted another helping. Saji beamed at him and went to get him seconds. Louise leaned over and whispered, “See, I told you. Saji’s the best cook.” Setsuna nodded again, although he was fairly certain Kinue was the better cook. Still, the Crossroad siblings had made him the tastiest meals he’d had in a long, long time.

(In the years that followed, he would think back on those meals as he ate MREs and energy bars to survive. They were a precious, painful memory of the world he was trying to protect.)

“Open the presents!” Louise said after Saji cleared their plates from lunch. “And then we can have cake!” She seemed far more cheerful than when she had pried him away from his nap. Even though it wasn’t her birthday, she was enjoying the festivities. Good food, some TV show they were all ignoring in the background, Saji waiting on her… It must be everything she wanted, Setsuna thought.

(Setsuna didn’t know, but in the years that followed, she would look back on this as the day Saji’s weird neighbor was almost human, and Saji was an angel. It was a precious, painful memory of the world she could never have back.)

Saji deposited a box on Setsuna’s lap. “Here. It’s from my sister. She had to work today so she couldn’t be here, but she left this for you. I guess Celestial Being is keeping her busy again.”

“Celestial Being is keeping a lot of people busy,” Setsuna muttered. He tore the tape on the box. Inside was a photo of Exia in exceptional quality, a print from a newsreel about Azadistan. The Gundam stood in the palace courtyard, hand extended. The shadows were long, showing it was late in the day, but the whole thing had a serenity to it, the calm of a clear sunset.

He’d slipped when Kinue was talking to him once, probably the same day he’d let his birthday out, and Kinue had found out that he didn’t entirely hate the Gundams and liked ‘the blue one, that rescued a religious leader in the Middle East.’ Her description, not his, but at least he hadn’t given away anything else.

“Oooh, that’s a cool shot,” Louise said. She sighed. “Remember when they did their first thing, and it didn’t seem so bad? I mean, they did stuff like this back then.”

“Louise, that was only six months ago,” Saji pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s like they’re two completely different people now! Ever since the red ones-”

Setsuna stiffened and wished he’d grabbed his gun. Did she know? He could probably take one of them bare-handed if there was trouble, but that would give the other time to call for help or escape. He’d have to take Louise out first- she looked like she could scream louder and run faster than Saji.

“Let’s not ruin the party with politics,” Saji said, waving his hands. Setsuna relaxed, just a little. Saji’s eyes were guileless as always. The only thing Saji could threaten was a sink full of dishes.

“Oh my god, she gave you that, too?” Saji’s face fell and he pointed at a video in the box.

It had been underneath the photo frame. A video of classic Japanese comedy, a compilation of the best stand-up and variety acts from 300-200 years ago.

Setsuna groaned inwardly. Damn Personality Type R35 and it’s idiotic verbal tick! At least he had talked Sumeragi out of making him use it more than once (he vaguely remembered saying ‘This is supposed to be a safehouse, not a madhouse!’ in a rare act of rebellion), but he’d had to explain his personality shift to Kinue and now she thought they shared an interest in this… drivel.

“I’m sorry, choriisu,” Saji said, patting his shoulder. Setsuna didn’t like the laughter in his tone and scowled. If he never heard that sorry excuse for a catchphrase, it would be too soon.

“We’re not watching it,” Louise said with authority. Setsuna silently thanked her imperial attitude for the first and only time. “Do Saji’s next! We’ll save the best for last.” She grinned and winked, and Saji flushed.

“Sorry it’s not very flashy,” he said as he gave a slim wrapped package to Setsuna. When the paper was off, Setsuna held a book of recipes for college students.

Saji awkwardly had a hand behind his neck, a pose that Setsuna had come to equate with Japan in general and Saji Crossroad in particular. “Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s fine,” Setsuna said, thumbing through it quickly. “It will be useful.” It would, with all the tips on cooking fast and buying cheap and adding nutrition to near-garbage.

“And now mine!” Louise plunked a box in his lap. It was a clothing box and very lightweight. Saji let out a low whistle when he saw the emblem on it, some expensive brand name Setsuna wouldn’t recognize until he looked it up later.

It was a scarf in a creamy beige color. Setsuna gingerly stroked the fabric. “Soft.”

“Mm-hm!” Louise said, still as excited as if the present was for herself. Setsuna would learn later that she loved gifts. Giving was as good as receiving (unless it was Saji and then she expected to receive). “It’s nice and light for summer! So you can keep your look even when it’s hot out. Don’t think I didn’t notice you’re always in one!”

“Thank you,” Setsuna murmured, unsure of how else to respond. “And thank your sister for me.”

“Sure!” Saji said, beaming.

“Saji, Saji! Take a picture!” Louise held out one of their phones- Saji’s probably, from the lack of cutesy straps dangling off it- and once Saji took it, she picked up the scarf and wrapped it around Setsuna.

Saji squeezed closer to Setsuna and held out the phone. Louise grinned and flashed a peace sign.

“Happy Birthday, Setsuna!” they both said as he took the picture.

Setsuna’s cheeks felt warm and he wondered if he was over-exhausted or if the pair were just too close, snugged up against his sides. He found that he was okay if it was the latter, and hid his smile against the silk of his new scarf.

[gethealthy18-blog]

11 Marriage Tweets That Will Make You Cry-Laugh For Days

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/getting-healthy-women/11-marriage-tweets-that-will-make-you-cry-laugh-for-days/

11 Marriage Tweets That Will Make You Cry-Laugh For Days

Anjala Farahath March 19, 2019

Is it too late to say that marriage is a universally accepted and acknowledged institution that gives us free access to a daily dose of drama, humor, romance, and love? At times, all at once, and sometimes, none at all. No matter which part of the world you live in, the relationship between married couples is pretty much the same. We discover how much we love ourselves and how much we tolerate our significant other. We fight over asinine issues like toilet paper, and we laugh our sorrows out. We basically sign up for a lifetime course on each other. To prove this, we compiled some popular and totally relatable tweets about marriage. Take a look-

1. Marriage Is Like Adopting A Child

My wife said I need to grow up. I was speechless.

It’s hard to say anything when you have 45 gummy bears in your mouth

— Josh (@iwearaonesie) October 10, 2014

Don’t you think it’s time to universally accept that almost every man is a man child? Okay, all of you who are ready to hurl a #Notallmen hashtag at me, I explicitly said that *most* of them are just overgrown children in bodies of adults. Now, maturity is something that comes with age. But, that can’t be said for men. They just get bigger cars, get better at pranks, and make better excuses. At least, that’s what this man’s life looks like. Don’t you think?

2. Dirty Texting Takes A Whole New Meaning

MARRIED SEXTING: I’m not wearing any underwear…because you never put the laundry in the dryer like I asked you to 100 flipping times.

— Christie Johnson (@cjohnsonking5) September 19, 2015

Well, there’s nothing like a sweet, surprising, kinky and dirty text message from your spouse in the middle of the day, right? But this is probably what happens when you start dealing with life together and have to remind each other about doing the chores in an unconventional manner. Or maybe, that’s how intimate texting works after the holy union of marriage and living together for years.

3. The Never Ending Wait

99% of marriage is waiting in the car for your spouse.

— Sammy Rhodes (@sammyrhodes) January 30, 2016

Have you ever seen anyone complain about waiting for their partner when they’re dating? The men voluntarily wait, and the woman use the waiting time to perfect their makeup. But, when the game changes and when we talk about waiting among married couples, waiting feels like the worst punishment that we voluntarily signed up for, doesn’t it?

4. Ah, That Feeling Of Looking At The Love Of Your Life

That moment when u look at the love of your life n think: I’d really like to punch u in the face right now. #MarriedPeopleIssues #TrueStory

— Paymefornada (@cbbrankley) August 17, 2015

When you look at the love of your life, your soulmate, your life partner, you feel a lot of things — butterflies, oxytocin releasing in your bodies (love hormone), you see your future with them, etc. But, there’s another important feeling that you acquire when you get married. You feel like punching them in the face, but you don’t. Because you love them. Sigh, the struggle is real, after all!

5. Main, Meri Patni Aur Humaara Blanket

At least 10% of divorces can be avoided by buying bigger blankets

— X Alqee (@Xalqee) July 9, 2012

Whether you roll up in your blanket like a caterpillar or whether you build a tent for yourself to read your book in bed, your partner might be planning a revenge plan against you for not sharing the blanket with them fairly. And that is a big deal! Of course, we love our partner and we can do anything for them, but no, we cannot sacrifice our blanket!

6. When You Spend Time Together…And Wish You Hadn’t

We’re assembling a crib from Ikea… Which option on their toll free number gets you a marriage counselor?

— Mommy Honesty (@momesty) March 11, 2015

When you’re married, you have to do a lot of things together…like fixing your table, setting up your house, pacifying babies, etc. And since the unsaid rule of marriage is to always disagree with the partner, it would be nice of our toll free folks to connect us to a marriage counselor.

7. Tonight’s Gonna Be A Good Night

I’m at the level of marriage where “getting lucky tonight” just means we’re having tacos for dinner.

— mark (@TheCatWhisprer) July 27, 2015

If you’re thinking that a good romp in the sheets can make your night a good one, you are in for a surprise. A good night is when you’re getting a special dinner, which is loaded with some nachos, cheese, and lots of unhealthy stuff. Now, that’s more orgasmic than you know…?

8. Marriage Is About Others

Marriage is mostly about knowing which hand towels you can use and which ones are for the better people who visit your wife’s home.

— Troy Johnson (@_troyjohnson) May 28, 2015

Be it your porcelain dishes or the cabinet full of chinaware, it’s not meant for you. It’s for the guests. The broken, worn out and old stuff is for you to use. Well, those are the rules. Who made them? Trust us, if we knew, we wouldn’t let them live peacefully.

9. Oh, How Can One Refuse Such Requests?

keeping our marriage fresh/exciting via texts pic.twitter.com/XB3dktiSnA

— Jeff Lyons (@usedwigs) January 16, 2016

Now, isn’t that so romantic? No kidding, it’s a sign that your relationship has reached a level of comfort that’s unfathomable. You can talk about each other’s poop patterns, you can talk about your nasty vices, and you can even talk about exchanging pictures of the commode. Anything is possible when you’re married.

10. Opinions Do Matter…Maybe?

Relationship status: My wife asked me what I wanted for dinner and then told me I was wrong.

— James Breakwell, Exploding Unicorn (@XplodingUnicorn) February 22, 2016

We value your opinion and that’s why we ask for it. But, we don’t decide based on your opinion. We just don’t want you to feel like you don’t have a say, because you do. And that’s why we ask.. It’s just up to us to consider that opinion.

11. Your Partner Will Always Be There Beside You

When I awoke from the car accident in a full bodycast, my wife was right at my bedside to let me know that childbirth is still more painful.

— Kent Graham (@KentWGraham) May 24, 2015

Remember your vows? You promised to be there for each other in sickness and in health and to love and cherish till death does you apart. In those vows was one hidden vow that you didn’t notice. You partner vowed to remind you, every breathing second, that their pains are greater than yours. After all, it’s the labor pain we are talking about. And we agree, don’t we? (Go back to point number 11).

Marriage isn’t easy, but trust us, it’s a lifetime subscription of humor and drama. Who needs Netflix, right? Were you able to relate to any of these marriage truths? Tell us about the annoying things that you face in a marriage that are so silly yet so irksome.

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Source: https://www.stylecraze.com/trending/marriage-tweets-that-will-make-cry-laugh/

[male-emporium]

The Sunday Series Vol. 1

Today we’re introducing a new series to GMG, The Sunday Series, which you can now expect every Sunday morning! What’s it all about? Each of us over here at Gal Meets Glam like to enjoy our Sundays, which usually involve trying out a fresh recipe, catching up on new shows, reading a good book or trying a fun activity. We’re always looking to find ways to make the most of the end of the week, and kick off the start of a new one. Each week, the four of us will be posting one thing that caught our attention that we think you’d like to know about. Basically, it’s a compilation of things that we really love/are excited about! And feel free to share something that caught your eye this past week- we’d love to know and I’m sure other readers would, too!

  Julia-  I’m a huge fan of Masterpiece Classics on PBS, with Downton Abbey being one of my favorite shows of all time. So when I saw they were coming out with a new show, and one centered around fashion, I knew it would be right up my alley. The Collection takes place in Paris, post WWII, and is about a designer trying to bring back couture after the war. Of course, true to any tv drama, there’s a shady past and some unsuspecting characters to keep you going from episode to episode. But what really draws me in? The clothes and wardrobe of the characters! The late 40s has always been my favorite time period for clothing, so I love seeing the elegant designs that the women are always wearing (and so dressed up!). Plus, I’m obsessed with Mamie Gummer, who also happens to be Meryl Streep’s daughter!

  Thomas- This week Sony announced the Sony a7r III camera and it has some extremely impressive features. It was only 2 years ago, when Sony released the a7r II. The a7r II was really the first mirrorless camera (good article on mirrorless vs. DSLR) that could compete on some levels and surpass on other levels with top of the line DSLRs and Medium Format cameras from Canon, Nikon, Hasselblad and other top manufacturers. I’ve used the a7r II extensively and we are renting the a9 right now. This camera is basically a hybrid between the two of them, high performing sensor with super fast focus speed and tracking, so needless to say I’m excited to eventually test one in the wild. My anticipation is that this camera will be hands down better than the competing professional cameras as far as overall performance. I’ll report back when I do test it out. Also this week, Apple’s iPhone X became available for preorder with some impressive improvements in imaging, especially with the software involved. Samsung and Google stole some of the thunder of the announcement of the iPhone X with big announcements of their own with the Galaxy Note8 and the Pixel 2 XL. The quality of images from phones now surpasses most entry level and mid range mirrorless and dslr cameras. The way I see it, there are now two ends of the camera market, professional cameras and smartphones. The number one question I get from readers is what camera they should get, my answer more and more is “the newest iPhone” only recommending higher end cameras for professionals and people with enough budget. That’s because the combo of quality and portability (you always have your phone on you) cannot be beat.

  Laura- I love treating Sundays as the one day of the week that is just for me. I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I’m most relaxed and happy when I’m cooking. It’s not a task I stress about and to keep it that way, I always look for new recipes to meal prep that will get me excited for the start of a new week. Now that it’s Fall, making a big batch of soup is the easiest meal to last me from Monday-Friday. Let’s face it, I’m way too tired after work to have to whip up something new any other weeknight. It’s easier for me to cook up potatoes or oven roast fish to complement the soup of the week rather than starting an entire meal from scratch. This week I discovered this Lentils & Greens Soup and I’m super excited to cook it up tonight! I’m not heavily into spicy foods so I may ditch the chili flakes, but other than that this sounds like the best dish to make sure I’m getting a fair dose of protein, carbs, and vegetables, especially kale. The greener, the better. Check back here on ‘The Sunday Series’ next week and I’ll make sure to give a follow-up review of the outcome!

  Margaret- There’s nothing like a word from Reese Witherspoon to motivate everyone to make the most of the week ahead. Witherspoon’s closing question in her speech at Glamour’s 2015 Women of the Year Awards resonates with me now, as it did in 2015 with the entire audience: “What would happen if we were all brave enough to be a little more ambitious?” Let’s start today. It takes one. It only takes one woman to believe in her ambitions to make waves in her sphere of influence, or industry, and inspire others to do the same. Last week, I attended the Celebrating Women Entrepreneurs Summit. Four incredible women who are Charleston-based entrepreneurs spoke about leading their own companies. I loved being in that room, a room that was filled with passion and an eagerness to learn and share. Reese’s words and last week’s summit could not have come together at a better time. Locally and internationally, we are joining together to support and lift one another up. Fueled with ambition and inspired by the women I’m surrounded by who have paved the way, I’m already excited for Monday.

  And in case you missed the intro of our two new GMG employees, you can read it over here!

The post The Sunday Series Vol. 1 appeared first on Gal Meets Glam.

First found here: The Sunday Series Vol. 1

[gethealthy18-blog]

Gift Ideas for Mom (That She Will Use and Love!)

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/gift-ideas-for-mom-that-she-will-use-and-love/

Gift Ideas for Mom (That She Will Use and Love!)

As Mother’s Day approaches, I’ve gotten several requests from husbands of a few readers for gift ideas for Mom when regular chocolate won’t cut it anymore.

I’ve compiled a list of some of the things I’d want to get (hint-hint honey) and feel free to add your favorites in the comments! Some of these are definitely not your typical gifts but are ones that will help Mom be healthy and happy!

Gifts for Mother’s Day (She Won’t Just Pretend She Loves)

How do you get a gift for the person that gave birth to you, cooked food for your entire childhood, and was at your side through teething/tantrums/friend drama/dating and all the other challenges of childhood?

It likely isn’t possible to find one gift that says “thanks for everything you’ve done for me” but I’ve compiled a list of gifts mom will be able to use and enjoy. These are gifts I’d give to my own mom or that I’d be thrilled to receive from my kids. Of course, nothing beats a heartfelt letter or handmade gift, but if you’ve already got those covered, here’s a list of some other ideas she’ll love!

Amazon Prime Membership – Get free 2-day shipping on many items, plus free streaming music and movies and now unlimited photo storage too.

or Real Plans Membership – I love this meal planning service that lets me plan our meals each week in just minutes and shop in half the time. Give mom some time off by saving her time on meal planning and prep (and even better, plan and shop for her for a few weeks!)

Shiatsu Massage Pillow – I received this as a gift and absolutely love it! It rivals an actual massage and I use it all the time after long days of cooking and holding babies.

Hydroflask Water Bottle – These steel bottles are cute and really functional! They keep liquids cold for up to 24 hours and hot for up to 12.

Royally Flawless Facial Moisturizer – Amazing facial oil with the highest quality ingredients and no junk! My mom loves this stuff and it is the only one I can use without breaking out.

RTIC Tumbler – This one performs as well as the high-priced Yeti and I use mine all the time. Great for coffee, smoothies and water.

Wake-up Light Gentle Alarm Clock – Waking up can stink, especially after a long night of being up with littles. Wake up gently to gradual light and sound with this wake-up light.

Himalayan Salt Lamp – Soothing warm orange glow at night from these beautiful lamps.

Blue Blocker Glasses – I wear these after dark for better sleep (some studies show that avoiding blue light after dark helps melatonin levels).

Sleep Master Sleep Mask – A sleep mask that is actually comfortable! Great for travel or home.

10,000 Lux Happy Light – I use this super-bright light in the morning to keep my cortisol levels healthy.

Anything Le Creuset – Incredible (but pricey) dishes. I’ve been collecting a few pieces over the years and resisting the urge to buy it all!

Microwaveable Slippers – These slippers are super cozy for moms who always feel cold.

Dry Brush Set – Brushing isn’t just for hair and teeth. Brushing skin can help it stay smooth, supple, and may improve collagen. It also feels great and is super-relaxing.

Low-EMF Hair Dryer – Did you know that hairdryers product a LOT of EMFs? This dryer is pricey but the quick drying time and smooth shiny hair that results is so worth it.

French Press Coffee Maker – Coffee is my sanity some days. If the mom in your life is the same way, help her ditch the toxic plastic coffee maker with a glass french press or any of these non-toxic coffee makers.

Instant Pot – Revolutionize dinner! This electric pressure cooker makes roasts in about an hour and turns tough cuts of meat into deliciously tender meals.

Grown-up Coloring Book and Markers – Coloring isn’t for kids anymore and studies show it may reduce stress levels. Try a “grown up coloring book.”

Kokomo Cream Organic Deodorant – This natural deodorant smells like the tropics and last for months.

The Wellness Mama Cookbook – Ok, I’m biased, but my cookbook is filled with 200 delicious recipes that our family loves (and I know yours will too!).

Blackout Curtains – Even a little light can interfere with sleep quality. We use blackout curtains to keep our room really dark.

Wine Bottle Tiki Torch – Upcycle old wine bottles with these adorable tiki-torch kits.

Myobuddy Massager – An amazing handheld massager that rivals what chiropractors use in-office (in fact, some of them do). This percussive massager heats up, vibrates, and feels like a real massage. Especially a great gift for nursing, which can be so hard on the neck, shoulders, and back.

Wine Subscription – The secret to a happy mom? Wine showing up at the door! Just joking of course (kind of) but if Mom is a wine lover, this is the gift that keeps on giving. I especially like this one because I never get headaches from it like I used to even from just a glass of regular wine. It’s organic, low-sugar, and free of any unhealthy additives.

Other Fun Experience-Based Gift Ideas for Mom

A CSA share

A picnic (if it isn’t too cold)

Tickets to a local theatre or performing arts center

A basket of seeds and gardening supplies

Surprise overnight getaway at a hotel — alone (ahh!) or with a friend

Pedicure basket or gift certificate

Museum passes if she likes art, science, history, etc.

A framed photo of a special memory with a handwritten note or a photo book/scrapbook

Cooking classes, personal training, or massage gift certificates or at-home massage course

Flowers – but give in a flower pot rather than cut flowers so she can enjoy them year round!

A gift certificate to do an escape room with the family or with friends

Anything made by her kids 🙂

Not having to cook or clean for a day (This is the one I really want!)

Bottom Line: Show Mom Lots of Love!

I’m not always a fan of Hallmark holidays, but moms give so much day in and day out (pregnancy and childbirth just for starters!) and certainly deserve to be celebrated. Show Mom a little (or a lot) of extra love and care this Mothers’ Day and every day… hopefully some of these ideas help!

What are your favorite natural gifts for mothers? Please share below!

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/4894/gift-ideas-for-mom/