#there's at least the writer's retreat this weekend. and my parents will be back from antarctica so i can talk to them again too

[lordsardine]

.

[mhaccunoval]

dude, could you give me movie recommendations then??

mainly i said i should stop giving recommendations because my movie tastes and opinions are Wack sbshjsbjhsbs but i will make an exception <3

i mostly just scoured my letterboxd (@/eroscalling ;] ) for movies i’ve really liked in the past year or two so sorry if you’ve seen some sbshjsbsh a lot of brain worms here sbsjhbshs

❥ freaked (1993)

it was inevitable that something alex winter and/or keanu reeves would show up on here but HERE ME OUT !!! you may think to yourself in the first ten minutes that ‘WOW this is terrible’ and you’d be right because the comedy IS awful except. it’s SO awful you have to laugh. and THEN it gets better from there, i swear. there’s the dichotomy within ricky over being himself AND a monster, some found family, and a happy (yet still hilarious) ending to it all. it’s quite insanity inducing 

[actual description: child star ricky coogan is interviewed on the story of him flying out to a small country in south america to help promote a fertilizer that’s been banned in the US, only to end up at a desolate freak show with his two companions (one new, one old) and have to find a means of escape after a mad scientist has turned them into attractions themselves]

———

❥ private romeo (2011)

another one i’ve been kinda back on my bullshit about sbshjsbsh but it’s SO good !!! i’m sure there are other gay romeo & juliet adaptations out there but this one is just. amazing and sets itself apart from all of the others. seth numrich and matt doyle’s acting and chemistry? IMMACULATE !!! pretty early on the dialogue switches from modern speech to recitation of lines from the play but everyone’s body language and interpersonal relationships with one another really SELL the plot and help you understand it, even if the words are a bit difficult for the average person to comprehend (also it was the film yassen and i got together because of so sbshjbshs)

[actual description: one weekend, the higher ranking officers and a few top qualified students at a military academy go on a training retreat, leaving a decent sized group of students at the academy unsupervised and with their copies of romeo & juliet they’re beginning to read in their english/literature class; as the weekend progresses, two students, sam and glenn, begin to realize that their feelings for each other have bloomed and progressed, causing them to do their best to stay together]

———

❥ the personal history of david copperfield (2019)

I JUST THINK THIS MOVIE (and dev patel) IS NEAT !!! i have no basis on how it compares to other adaptations or the book but i reallyyyy like this one as it is !!!  i think the dynamic transitions in the timeline and the coloring work REALLY well in moving the plot forward and making every character, or at least every event in david’s life, very unique and stand out from each other. and i LOVE the cast... love the inclusion of at least a Few actors of color and just the way everyone plays off each other... it’s just so wholesome and the adventure really grips you every second

[actual description: following the publishing of his book, autobiographer david copperfield reads it aloud in front of a theatre audience, detailing the shenanigans and relationships he’s grown up with and how they’ve affected, creating the person that he is today]

——— 

❥ billy elliot (2000)

everyone say thank you to young jamie bell for your rights. yeah no this movie is SO heart-clenching AND heartfelt... at first you’re just like ‘yeah, you know, this is alright’ but then it punches you in the feels... just... billy’s journey to find something he’s passionate about and actively pursuing that passion... his relationship with michael and his family... the general atmosphere created by the hardships at the time and how they reflect on the elliotts’ home life... the only reason i haven’t gotten around to rewatching it is because i know it will make me SOB...

[actual description: young billy elliott is the son of a miner in northern england during the mid 80s, dealing with how the miners’ strikes his father and brother are partaking in are affecting their financial situation while simultaneously coming to terms with a small interest in ballet and trying to chase that interest, in spite of what his father and society have to say about it]

———

❥ the half of it (2020)

yes another gay film and another coming of age film <3 what of it <3 it’s so good and unconvential though... it’s not your typical nerdy girl and jock get together at ALL— spoiler: it’s no where close to even being a plot point. paul and ellie’s friendship is !!! so beautiful though !!! there’s so much trust and platonic love there !!! and also !!! a chinese MC which, as we all know, is very rare in hollywood, especially under uh ellie’s ‘circumstances’... it’s yet another heart-clencher and is just very feel good...

[actual description: realizing he has a crush on one of the most popular girls in school, young paul turns to the girl in his grade who everyone pays to write their essays for them, as he’s not the most eloquent writer himself, and asks if she’ll help him write his crush love letters to win her affection; ellie is at first reluctant, but eventually realizes the money could help keep her and her father afloat, finding some feelings of her own along the way]

———

❥ the farewell (2019)

i was going to stop at five but i couldn’t decide between this or the half of it so you get both !!! the farewell is soooo sweet and tear-jerking... you get a real sense of the main family’s bond and love for each other, as well as a bit of a culture shock if, like me, you’re a westerner who doesn’t know the full extent of the intricacies of chinese families and the culture in general. every character is unique and dynamic, each having wonderful portrayals of their individual flaws and reactions to every step of the journey that they’re going through. not to mention, i would assume a lot of first gen / children of immigrants can really relate to billi’s experience of basically having two halves of herself, the american side and the chinese side, and the struggles that come from being thrown into that situation... it’s just... Perfect

[actual description: billi is a young woman in her 20s who is having trouble managing her life, only to have to put it on hold when her parents reluctantly tell her that her grandmother has been diagnosed with lung cancer and that the family is going to come together in case this is their last opportunity to; the twist is that they all must keep it a secret from the grandmother that she is even sick, which is a secret billi has a hard time keeping]

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.14, “Hammer Time”

Homestretch, folks. Here we go.

Our episode begins in The Spoon, where Andi tells Buffy and Cyrus that Bex and Bowie’s wedding is off. Amber shows up and hears just enough to think Bex and Bowie broke up, but Andi’s like no, they’re just not getting married.

Amber’s like, oh, that’s not so bad.

Everyone lets that sad thought just linger in the air.

And then they move on without commenting.

I wish Amber had doubled down. “Well at least they aren’t having money troubles, right? Oh and also, my cat ran away. I don’t know if you have pets or anything, but I figured I’d just put that out there.”

Buffy and Cyrus continue to sympathize with Andi, but doing so only reminds her of the situation more and drives her further into rage. Andi feels furious about this whole thing and, what’s worse, she claims she can’t tell her parents about her fury because they told her she was entitled to her feelings.

Andi’s like, I guess that was a nice thing of them to say. It is nice. It’s mature.

Oh?

Cyrus says it’s like in dodgeball, where Andi has this ball of rage to throw at Bex and Bowie, but they’re ready for it, so they’ll just catch it.

One, that’s giving Bex and Bowie way too much credit. Manipulative suggests calculation. In no way are Bex and Bowie doing anything more than acting on instinct. They don’t have it in them.

Two, so the right thing to have done here on their part was to tell Andi to shut up? That she was overreacting, it’s not her marriage, it’s theirs so she has to deal with it, thus allowing her an opportunity to rage at them? That rage is only worthwhile if you can unleash on people by surprise? They must never see your rage coming. It should hit them in the back of a head like a dodgeball they weren’t expecting.

Maybe Andi should consider jumping on Bex’s bed at 3 in the morning one night and screaming in her face.

This whole thing is a very weird analogy that I feel Cyrus developed only by listening to every other word one of his parents once said about this issue. Or maybe not even this issue. Maybe they were just talking about dodgeball.

Cyrus doesn’t give it much more thought though, because he’s impressed with his ability to drop a metaphor out of nowhere.

And one about sports at that.

Andi wants to know what to do with her ball of rage. Amber has an idea.

Smash old junk.

It seems to work.

Later, Andi relaxes in her room and gets a call from Celia.

Well, she gets a Facetime from Celia but Celia has her phone too close to her head. Old people and technology, you know how it is.

Celia asks if Andi got her email. Andi’s like, email? I don’t know what that is, I’m not some Millennial.

You know what, I hate this show and I’m glad it’s cancelled.

Celia tells Andi to look at her email because she sent her a video of a wedding where everyone dances down the aisle and she’s thinking they should do that for Bex and Bowie’s wedding.

Then Andi watches Celia do the saddest silly grandma dance in the history of film and television as she notes how happy she looks and mentally notes how tragic it will be to stomp out that happiness.

Andi tells Bex that Celia called and wants to know when she plans on telling her that the wedding is off. Bex says she can’t yet. Andi wants to know why not. Because, Bex says, tomorrow is Celia’s birthday.

Wait, so Andi doesn’t remember her own grandma’s birthday? What did she think the fancy dinner they were going to the next night was about?

The next morning, Buffy meets up with Marty to do some cardio. She sees Marty’s footwear and has questions.

Oh God, he would. These weird toe shoes are so Marty. Kudos to whichever writer said “Marty should be wearing those weird toe shoes.” Nailed it.

Marty’s like, make fun of my toe shoes all you please, but I’m running a marathon this weekend. He’s been training half a year for this. Buffy’s like, ok, sounds fun, I’ll do it, too.

Marty’s like, you haven’t trained. Don’t do that. Buffy considers that a challenge. Marty lists the many ways this could go badly for her.

But Buffy’s lost all sense of reason.

This is like someone walking into an operating room and grabbing a scalpel and going, “Ok, let me at the patient.” And the doctors and nurses are screaming, “Ma’am, you cannot perform open-heart surgery without any training!” and they’re like, “Oh, you’re just scared they’re going to name the hospital after me.”

Jonah, meanwhile, walks down the sidewalk when he is ambushed by Cyrus.

Watch out, Jonah! Cyrus could have a ball of rage!

Luckily, Cyrus just wants to invite him to a campout to watch a meteor shower. Jonah is like, the meteors are not going to hit us, right? And Cyrus is like, no, it’s not like we’re Russia.

Cyrus says there will be s’mores. Jonah’s like, I haven’t had s’mores in a while.

Honestly, that’s not bad. It’s a B+ pun. Much better than I expected from Jonah “Danishes have eyes, I’m not making a joke here, I’m legit saying this” Beck.

At a fancy restaurant that night, Bex, Bowie, and Andi wait for Celia and Ham to show up. Yes, Ham. I raised my eyebrows when I heard that.

Bex, by the way, has achieved full mom status.

Celia finally shows up. Alone.

They ask where Ham is. Celia says he’s not coming. Is he ok? Yes, he’s fine, says Celia, he’s in INDIA.

That’s right. Ham is in Asia now. Don’t ask anymore questions about it and don’t you dare Google it.

Jonah shows up to Cyrus’s backyard and sees Cyrus has set up a huge tent.

He doesn’t know when the meteor shower is going to be so he figures they should wait it out in comfort.

Back at the restaurant, Andi, Bex, and Bowie ask Celia about the missing Ham. Celia says he went back to the ashram and didn’t say goodbye because he was worried they’d talk him out of it.

Bowie says that since he got back from India the first time, he seemed a little lost. Celia says she promises they will hear from him again.

Which sounds like a threat.

This whole scene makes you feel awkward for the actors and it feels surreal as an audience member, but I am honestly glad they aren’t just going to ignore Ham’s disappearance. Ham the character deserves better than to be ruined by whatshisname the criminal.

Bex and Andi agree to accept that Ham’s doing what he needs to do, so let’s just all of us accept that and not push the issue too much.

Moving on! Celia found the perfect venue for the wedding!

Which is insane seeing as the wedding was supposed to be in a few weeks and the invitations were supposed to have been sent days ago already. What did the invites even say?

Anyway, don’t think about that, look at the alpacas!

Celia says the alpaca farm is a warm and inviting space. Celia’s very excited but everyone else is struggling. Bex looks at the alpacas wistfully. She says they should talk about it later.

But Celia realizes something is up and wants to know what. Bex starts to come clean.

At Cyrus’s, Jonah reads up on asteroids. He says one could hit Earth in 2071, which reminds him of the plot of The Sixth Sense for some reason.

Cyrus gets upset about the spoiler and then wants to know who Bruce Willis is. Come on. Isn’t he a student of cinema? He doesn’t know what Die Hard is? I’m irrationally angry about this.

Jonah wants to know when this event is happening and Cyrus says there’s no way to tell, so in the meantime...

Ah yes, charcuterie, which is, I believe, French for “chewy and dry.”

Jonah panics. You can’t bring meat on a camping trip, it attracts wild animals. Cyrus thinks he’s freaking out unnecessarily. They’re in Cyrus’s backyard. What kind of wildlife lives in the suburbs? And, on cue, suburban-dwelling wildlife makes noise right outside the tent.

Back at the restaurant, Celia gathers herself. She wants to know, yes or no, are Bex and Bowie getting married?

Disappointment washes over Celia. She’s upset they were just going to let her sit there and babble on about a wedding that wasn’t happening. Andi says they didn’t want to ruin her birthday and create a sad public situation.

You know, like this...

Celia snuffs out the candle the way her hopes for the wedding were snuffed out.

Back inside Cyrus’s tent, Cyrus and Jonah freak out about the wild animal that’s come sniffing for their bitter cheeses.

Cyrus is worried about going outside because he thinks a coyote will drag him off into the woods.

But Jonah tells him they just want his Banjo Kazooie. Jonah thinks they can chuck the meat away and run, but the zipper to the tent won’t open. They now think they’re stuck in the tent, but Cyrus comes up with a plan: cheese knife.

Cyrus’s attempts end as feebly as would be expected, so Jonah takes over and jabs the knife through the tent. He cuts a hole big enough to get his head through and peeks out. He doesn’t spot wildlife, but, just to be safe, he uses his frisbee skills, honed over a lifetime of practicing the ‘bee, and hucks the charcuterie board into Cyrus’s neighbor’s yard anyway.

Now, in real life, a wild toss like that would send meats and cheeses everywhere. Mostly all over Cyrus’s backyard.

But, for some reason, those meats and cheeses appear stapled down to that board, so they go sailing into the neighbor’s yard nice and clean.

The two hear footsteps retreating and feel the day is saved. Or, at least, it is for now until someone has to explain why a pack of timberwolves tore apart the Hendersons next door and left nothing but various bones and viscera and assorted cheeses and meats in their wake.

Cyrus and Jonah emerge from the tent and look towards the sky.

Just in time to spot a beautiful sight.

A Windows 95 screensaver! You know they say you can only spot one of those in the sky every 75 years.

You guys, I lost my mind at this. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

They must’ve blown their entire graphics budget on pasting Jonah’s face on everyone’s head in the dream wedding and this was like the best graphics that could be bought on whatever Terri Minsky had in her pockets that day. This is what you get when the show’s editors take part in “Bring your child to work day.”

Why include the two in the image at all? Just show the sky! They look like they’re glowing. I put this into photoshop and used the magic wand tool and it gave me a super clean cut-out of the two.

Cyrus and Jonah go sit down and watch the meteor shower.

Why didn’t they just buy stock footage of a meteor shower? I can’t deal with this.

Jonah asks what happened to that place in Russia but Cyrus says he’ll tell him tomorrow, once the adrenaline wears off.

The next day, Buffy and Marty get ready to marathon. Marty tries to warn Buffy: they should both do their own thing, run their own pace, not make this a race. This, as you might imagine, is ignored.

Buffy takes off running.

Bex, meanwhile, arrives home. Celia is giving her the silent treatment. She’s locked herself in her room and won’t come out. You know, like an adult.

Bex says Celia is beyond angry. Andi gets it.

Andi’s like, she can’t let it go. Bex says she has to. What is she going to do with it? If you’re not careful, Bex, she’s going to nail you in the back of the head with it when you’re not ready for it. Dodgeball!

Andi has an idea though. She going to take her to “a place” but she won’t tell Bex because "this place is not for you,” which is way too ominous a thing for a child to say. That’s the kind of thing that’s scratched into the stone above the entrance to an ancient tomb.

Back at the marathon, Buffy is... not doing well.

She probably went way too fast out the gates and burned through her energy. This is something you learn not to do in marathon training. Alas.

Marty catches up to her. And then catches her.

He helps her over to a bench. Buffy fights him but is just about out of energy. He says they should get her to a doctor, she tells him to go on without her. He doesn’t want to, so she starts laying into him.

I gotta say, not as catchy as Marty from the Party.

Marty finally relents and leaves her as a knockoff Imagine Dragons song plays.

Picture Minotaurs? Envision Griffins? Visualize Unicorns? Should I continue? Am I just doing this for myself at this point? Consider Werewolves. Ok, that’s the last one.

Andi brings Celia to the Rage Cage. She takes to it naturally.

It seems to work.

At the park, Marty comes running back to Buffy, who’s still lying on the bench. He accuses her of trying to “White Fang” him.

When Buffy tries to play dumb, Marty tells her she made him watch the movie. Why did Buffy make Marty watch a 30 year old Ethan Hawke movie that was like... fine? I don’t know, but the point is, he learned his lesson from it, which was that he had to come back for her even though she was mean to him.

Buffy’s like, so are we just going to sit here then?

So Marty runs, I guess, a huge chunk of a marathon with Buffy on his back.

They cross the finish line at 7+ hours and both get medals. Wait. Buffy gets a medal for riding on someone else’s back? I could do that! This whole time I’ve never attempted a marathon because I thought you had to run it. This opens a whole new world of possibilities to me. Can you like, ride a horse through a marathon? Do both you and the horse get medals?

Buffy thanks Marty and they walk off together.

Oh, now she can walk.

Back at the Rage Cage, Celia’s time is up. She’s fully bought into the rage life.

Andi hears someone else raging nearby and finds Amber. She’s crying.

Andi asks what’s wrong and Amber says it’s Jonah. He’s not doing enough. She’s the one who always has to text or call him but he’s not putting in the effort. Just the same six emojis.

Andi says maybe that’s the max you’ll get from Jonah, but Amber wonders if maybe it’s because he doesn’t really like her.

Andi says if she’s this unhappy, maybe she should break up with Jonah, but Amber can’t. Why?

Amber! Whoa! The L-Bomb?!

Reduce your speed! Hit the brakes! Pull the emergency brake! Pull it so hard you enter into a drift. Risk flipping the car if you have to because you are going way. Too. Fast.

Andi looks at her like, “Yikes.”

But not like a Yikes! yikes, more like an empathetic yikes.

Either way.

Yikes.

[thatswhatisee]

Remember, Remember

This is my take on "What if the bee had not stung Scully in the Hallway Scene?" In Fight the Future. Also available at AO3

I want to thank @agentelmo, @handsofabitterman, and @mldrgrl for their help in the early stages. Tossing ideas around with them made me come with a certain structure to this project. This first chapter has been betaed by dksculder, @ enigmaticdoctorscully , and @settle-down-frohike . Without their feedback, I wouldn't have been able to get this here.

I also want to thank Vicky @frangipanidownunder for her writing workshops that have helped me become a more confident fanfic writer.

English is not my native language and feedback is much appreciated. Without any further ado, here is the story.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Chapter 1

I go for a run. I run like my life depends on it. Which I find ironic in a way, as I’m a fox myself. At least that’s what my parents have thought to name me. Different from my animal counterpart, though, at this moment I feel more like a prey than a hunter. I run away from this morning’s events, trying to erase the frustration and anger with sore muscles and the release of endorphins. That should make me feel better. At least that’s what I had hoped for when I had set my foot out of the door, right before dawn, with the air still chilled.

I pass by silhouettes of trees and hedges; not a soul is out in the park. The streetlamps show me where the track ends and the green grass starts. I follow the concrete path. My nostrils smell dew and the loamy scent of the Tidal Basin on my right. The Washington Monument is on this side too. All lit up, a white phallus among the darkness, putting on pretentious display all American masculinity. Even in architecture we, men, show that our dicks need to rule everything, seeking power and a release of oxytocin to their owners.

A flood of oxytocin should have made me better as well. Or so they say. It had made me feel good, actually. So good, so relaxed that I fell asleep; it was the moment I opened my eyes that everything went downhill.

But what would I know about hormones anyway? 

She, on the other hand, would know. The perks of being an MD. Her bedside manners need some work, though. That I can say. I bet that’s why she chose to be a pathologist. And coming to think of it, that is also probably why she had been single for almost all the time I have met her.

If I am a fox, she is, apparently, a praying mantis.

But it was my mistake. Five years working with a person. Five years of a partnership based on trust and repressed feelings were thrown down the toilet. I should have never kissed her in that hallway. And why did she have to choose that moment to let down a guard that has been up and successful for so many years? She should have slapped me in the face, that’s what she should have done. I would have deserved it.

The first rays of sunlight have started to warm up this summer morning and I’m still thinking of her. I guess it’s not time to turn back to the car and drive home yet. The cool breeze on my face is a good contrast to the warmth my tracksuit provides me, as I feel the drops of sweat running down my body. It’s a pleasant sensation. It makes me focus on the moment I’m living and not in the past. 

The sunlight bathes my surroundings and the day has warmed up as I approach The Jefferson Memorial. A few joggers run by and the city is starting to wake up. I think it’s time to finally go back home.

As I leave the shower and head to my bedroom, the remnants of last night’s developments assault my senses. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The room smells like her and I swear I can hear again the soft moaning coming from her mouth when my tongue drew number eights on her neck. My blood runs south and stirs my dick. I sigh. My body tenses and I yank the sheets out of the bed to throw them in the hamper with force. The sunlight passes between the slats of the blinds, bathing a piece of the floor. It makes a kind of patterned spotlight to my yesterday’s outfit. My stomach clutch with the sight. I grab my gray T-shirt from the floor, ball them up in my hands with clenched teeth and toss them in the laundry basket.

When I’m back to putting away clothes, something else calls my attention and I stop mid-stride. Giving it further inspection, I notice it’s a smashed bee. My heart races and I feel ultra-awake by adrenaline. I run and search frantically all over the place for a container to put the insect.

Once it is secured tight inside a small transparent pot I grab my cell phone and press speed dial one: Miss bedside manners.

Before I even hear the first ring, my heart races and I fumble with the phone to press the end call button. I throw it on the couch in a huff and I groan. I start to pace the living room, rubbing my temples as I try to think of who could help me out with that insect. Yes, I know that I will need an entomologist, but I have a hunch that this bee is no ordinary honey-maker. And only a pair of eyes, who have seen the virus through the microscope before, could back me up, complete and enrich my theory.

I groan again.

I guess that’s what phantom limb syndrome feels like.

I arrive at the Lone Gunmen’s office and I am greeted by Frohike, who opens the door and starts to look behind me as if my presence alone was not enough for him.

“Where is the delectable Agent Scully?”

“I dare you to call her that on her face. She will kick your ass.” and then I remember. “Though that will be a little difficult since she is moving to Salt Lake City.”

“Salt Lake City?! What the heck did you do to her, man?” he barks, his face betraying indignation. He closes the door and I get inside. I try to deny my involvement in her departure – even though deep down, I’m guilty as charged – but I am interrupted by Langly and Byers. They have stopped their nerdy business and are now gathered around me and Frohike. The latter informs the others of the latest development.

“What did you do to Scully, dude?” blondie asks me.

I don’t know if it’s Frohike’s indignation or Langly’s astonished tone that does the trick, but I snap.

“Why do you all think I have done something to her?!”

“Easy, dude, we just want to understand what happened. But you were always ditching her, so we assume things.” says Langly.

“And you have a tendency to sleep with your female partners” Frohike points out.

“That happened only once.” I say, unable to look them in the eyes.

“Yeah, with the only female partner you have had before.” Shortie patronizes me.

“She and Diana are completely different people. Besides I’ve sworn that I would not let my dick get in the way again.” Yeah. Congratulations to me.

“Well, agent Scully is very hot. It would be understandable if you had not been able to resist temptation…” 

“Can we, please, stop talking about her?!” I admonish and interrupt Frohike’s rant. “The FBI transferred her after all that Dallas fiasco. And that’s why I’m here.” I take a deep calming breath. “I need your help. They are trying to blame us for what happened and all I have had before were theories, but no substantial proof. Until…” I get the vial with the bee from my pocket and show them. “...I found this in my apartment.” 

I share with them everything that Kurtzweil had told me. I tell them all the things I have seen in the last days: the cornfield, the white domes, the bees.

“If this bee is carrying the alien virus, as I suspect it is, it changes everything. It will prove that there is a real threat to people out there. And the X Files is the only division in the FBI that can handle these kinds of investigation. They will need to reopen the unit. And they will not be able to make a scapegoat of me.”

“And maybe Agent Scully can come back to Washington.” Frohike says.

“That is not up to me. She had her options before and she has made her choice.” I sigh. “And I think I already said I don’t want to talk about her, right?”

I notice how they look at one another, tension in the air. That’s when Byers, finally, decides to offer his input.

“So you’ll need an apiologist or an entomologist who we can trust to look at this bee. Someone who can catalog the anomalies or find traces of the virus.” 

“Yep. And I need it by Monday, at noon.”

“Monday?!” Langly exclaims. “Dude, today is Friday! Do you have any idea how long it takes to run full background checks on people and come up with somebody who is clean? How are we going to do that and then ask them to do the job on such a short notice? And moreover on the weekend?!”

“I know. But that’s when I have an OPR meeting. The FBI forgot to ask me when it’s the most convenient time for me to have my ass kicked.”

“So let’s get to work!” Frohike says and retreats himself along with Langly to their computers. Byers stay put and then approaches me, in a conspiratory voice.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about Agent Scully, but I just wanted to say that I have experience with loving a woman and then have her ripped out of my arms.”

“I’m not in love…”

“You may fool yourself, Mulder, but not me. Anyway, I just wanted to say that if you ever want to talk about it, I can be your man for that. I won’t judge or make fun of you.” He pats my shoulder twice and goes for his computer. 

And I stay there, glued to that spot, dumbstruck.

 I leave the Gunmen’s office with the remembrance of the taste of her lips in my tongue. Thank you, Byers! Now all I can think of was how our lips barely had met in that hallway and her tongue was already inciting me, proding for more; how our breaths became heavy and faster; how I pulled Her body closer to mine, and...

...And how I needed to burn that out of my mouth and mind.

So I get in the car and drive all the way to Casey’s Bar, in Southeast Washington. When I get there, though, I don't even leave the car as I remember that blonde bartender. She would be sure to inform me that my ‘lucky number’ was actually three times less than what I really needed.

I go home instead. The bottle of scotch in the liquor cabinet will have to do. All that is left for me is to drown my sorrows into oblivion. And that’s what I do until I have the burning taste of alcohol in my mouth only. 

When I regain consciousness, the sun has already set and a loud trill pierces my ears. And my head for that matter. I am sprawled, face down on my couch, a pool of drool coming out of my mouth. I unstuck my cheeks from the leather and the difference in height makes it feel like a sword punctures my brain. Looking for the source of the noise, I realize it’s my cell phone that is making that awful sound.

I get up to my feet, as steady as I can under the circumstance, and answer the device. I am greeted by a female voice who calls me ‘Fox’. And the way she says my name –in such a soft, caring voice that doesn’t make me flinch– tells me that it can only be one person.

“Mrs. Scully?”

“Yes, that’s me. Have you seen Dana?”

“I last saw her early this morning. Has something happened?”

“We were supposed to have dinner at 7 p.m, but she neither showed up or called.”

I check the time and the VCR clock tells me it’s 9 p.m. “Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Yes, and her home number as well, but she is not answering either. This is not like her.” her voice became brittle. “I was wondering if you guys had had a last minute trip that she had forgotten to tell me or some other work-related issue had come up. I just… I just have a bad feeling about it all.”

Me too, Mrs. Scully. Me too. I feel the bottom of my stomach chill and sink. “Hang by the phone. I’ll figure out what happened.”

I end the call and dial the Lone Gunmen. When one of them answers the phone I don’t even bother to listen who is on the other side and start barking orders.

“Stop everything you are doing right now. I need your help again. Scully is missing.”

Chapter 2

[greekowl87]

Fic: It’s Cold Outside

This is my fic for the X-Files Easter Fic Exchange (@xfilesfanficexchange). My prompt was for slippinmickeys over on AO3. This is cross-posted with AO3. 

The prompt was: “Mulder gets stuck at Maggie Scully's for the weekend during a Scully family holiday (any holiday). UST becomes RST and drama ensues. Seasons 1-7. No PWP, need story.” So this is set during season three and is inspired by The Blizzard of 1996 (January 6 -10) was an actual event that took place. I myself was nine and remember being miserable, sick and losing power for 3 days during the course of it while living in Virginia but took it as inspiration for this fic. 

A quick thank you for @peacenik0 and @baronessblixen talking me through some writer’s block with this fic. Mind you, it’s long. Also, there’s some smut in this: just a head’s up.  I hope you all enjoy.

P.S. @today-in-fic

Friday, January 5, 1996

“Mulder, you don’t have to do this.” Scully gathered her coat and briefcase for the weekend as Mulder donned his own trench coat and car keys. “I’m just taking the bus home and then driving to my mother’s for the weekend in the morning.”

“It would make me feel better, Scully. I don’t know if you saw the forecast for the weekend but they are calling for a big Nor’easter. Anyways, what’s so special about your mom’s this weekend?”

“A belated celebration of Christmas,” she told him with a smile. “Ever since dad and with Missy just a few months ago, mom’s had a hankering to get the family together. A belated Christmas seemed like the answer. My brothers Bill and Charlie are coming with their wives. Bill’s ship just got into Norfolk two days ago and is already up in Baltimore with Tara. Charlie is coming down from Pennsylvania.���

Mulder felt his heart drop in his chest at the mention of the recent murder of Melissa Scully. His partner had told him multiple times that she did not blame him; the dangers came with their work. But deep down, Mulder still felt guilt himself. He was only more determined to make things right for her, even if it was as simple as driving to her mother’s for a makeup Christmas holiday in early January.

“Really, Scully, it’s no big deal. I can drive you first thing tomorrow morning to Baltimore.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

His smile must have melted her resolve as Scully smiled. “Fine. Tomorrow morning at ten, okay?”

“Okay.” He grinned.

. . . . . . . . .

Saturday, January 6, 1996

Scully glanced at her wall clock as it read 10:08 as she heard a knock at the door. Her weekend bag sat next to the door along with her freshly dug out snow boots and winter jacket. She had been watching the local news and now The Weather Channel. Mulder’s warning the previous day about an upcoming nor’easter had sparked her interest however her attention was once again distracted by the knocking again.

“It’s open,” she called.

The brass doorknob opened and she saw her partner wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and black turtleneck. He smiled at her awkwardly. “Ready to go, Scully?”

“You know you can come in, Mulder.”

She turned off the television and cast the remote onto the wooden coffee table. She saw him sidestep the welcome mat and inch around her entryway before shutting the door. He held his gaze at the fixed point in the floor before forcing a smile. “I do. I see you got your snow boots.”

“Yep. Finally got a chance to see the forecast. Might as well be prepared.”

Scully was already pulling on her jacket and then her shoes. “You really didn’t have to do this, Mulder.”

“I want to, Scully.”

He picked up her bag, loaded her bag into his backseat, and began the journey up to Maryland. The drive was quiet between them with a little conversation with the exception of small talk about the Scully family plans. As Mulder pulled up to the familiar driveway, he threw the car into park and looked at Scully. “Here’s your stop,” he said.

Scully gave him a thankful smile and nodded towards the porch. “Why don’t you come in before you head back to Alexandria?”

“I couldn’t impose, Scully.”

The last time he had been to Mrs. Scully’s house was shortly after his partner’s abduction when he had to swallow his pride and failure and let her know that her baby daughter had disappeared into thin air. He only saw himself as an omen of ill news for the Scullys. The most recent stigma was the death of Melissa Scully and him keeping Scully away due to their crazy crusade. The prospect of visiting her again under such circumstances wasn’t very appealing to him.

“Come on, Mulder. At least take a bathroom break and get a drink of coffee?” Her teasing smile made him relax slightly.’ “Come on, Mulder. My family isn’t going to crucify you.”

“The wrong holiday,” he joked. It fell on deaf ears.  “I couldn’t impose, Scully. Really.”

“You can at least get some coffee before hitting the road,” she encouraged. “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“You aren’t going to take no for an answer are you?”

“Sound familiar? Why don’t you just put yourself out of your misery and come in.”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

They both exited the car and Mulder went to grab her weekend bag from the trunk of his car. Together, they went up to the steps to the Scully household. His partner grabbed the brass doorknob and swung the door open wide. “Mom! I’m here!”

“Is that little Dana?” A playful voice echoed from the kitchen. “Still believing in Santa Claus?”

“Charlie!”

Mulder stood awkwardly by the doorframe, unsure if he should close the door behind him and stay or if he should run away. He saw a much taller man, about his height with dark auburn hair and blue eyes like his partner wearing a Penn State sweatshirt and jeans.  Scully ran to her brother, throwing her arms around her youngest brother as he spun her in a circle. “It’s been too long, Dana! Mom, Dana’s here!”

Mulder stood straighter as he saw the matronly Mrs. Scully come from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a yellow apron. “No traffic I hope?”

“No,” Scully answered.

“Good. The weather forecast is calling for snow tonight and I hated the thought of you driving in this weather.”

“Mulder drove me,” Scully said, turning to gesture to him.

Mulder would have preferred to have fallen into a hole in the ground on the way to China than face the Scully matriarch. “Fox,” she greeted coolly.

“Mrs. Scully.”

Charlie turned to Mulder and smiled warmly. “So your Dana’s FBI partner. What kind of name is Fox anyways?”

To Mulder’s surprise, the youngest Scully offered a welcoming handshake which he returned hesitantly. “My parents probably hated me. I prefer Mulder anyways.”

“FBI thing?”

“Something like that. I’m going to go, Scully. I’ll see you back at the office on Monday.”

Scully narrowed her eyes in annoyance and nudged her mother. “I was going to invite Mulder to some coffee before he goes back. He was nice enough to drive me.”

“Of course.” Like magic, Mrs. Scully’s face materialized into the welcoming host that used to make her the talk of all the housewives of the San Diego Naval Base.  “Take off your jacket and shoes, Fox. Stay awhile. You take your coffee black right?”

“That’d be fine.”

Mulder was already taking off his shoes and jacket as Charlie said something about finding Bill and Tara from upstairs. Soon, Mulder found himself standing in the atrium alone with Scully. She gave him a smile small. “Thank you for staying for a bit.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“I appreciate it regardless. Come on, let’s get you that cup of coffee.”

He was powerless to say no to her and followed her like an obedient puppy. Mrs. Scully was smiling and getting coffee, trying to make small talk with the two FBI agents. Charlie soon came back with a man and a woman which Mulder could only assume was Big Brother Bill and his wife Tara. He felt himself shrink under the steely gaze as Scully greeted the rest of her family. Mulder took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Fox Mulder.”

“Mr. Mulder,” Bill said carefully.

He had the sneaking suspicion he was being appraised. The blond hair woman, Tara, rushed forward to shake his hand as well. “It is so nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder. Dana has told us so much about you.”

“You can call me Mulder.” Mulder raised his eyebrow playfully at Scully. “Is that so?”

Charlie was by the fridge grabbing a beer out. “Don’t worry, Mulder. If you stick around long enough, you’ll hear some embarrassing stories about little Dana.”

As the afternoon progressed, the snow became heavier and showed no signs of letting up. By seven that evening, Mulder still found himself in the Scully household recovering from a wonderful dinner over embarrassing stories in front of a Christmas tree and the Scully clan. How had time escaped him was beyond Mulder’s grasp; he should open an x-file on it. By ten in the evening, he decided it was time to call it a night.

“Mrs. Scully, as much as I would love to stay, I must get going. The drive back to Alexandria is bound to belong.”

“You can’t be serious, Mulder!” Charlie cried. “All that snow!”

“It’s not safe,” Bill added as his wife yawned. She leaned against his shoulder sleepily. “You ready to hit the hay, hon?”

“Yeah. Traveling must’ve taken it out of me yesterday.”

“Why don’t you get going to bed. I’ll be right up.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder,” Tara said getting up. “Good night, everyone.”

A chorus of good nights and good evenings followed her out of the room. Scully looked at Mulder and bit her lip in thought. Mulder sensed something from her but did not say anything. “Why doesn’t he crash on the couch tonight, mom? Hopefully, the main roads will be plowed by tomorrow?”

Mrs. Scully nodded in agreement. “I’ll go get some blankets and pillows for you, Fox.”

Mulder had not even had a chance to say anything as Scully brothers said goodnight quickly and retreated back upstairs to their respective bedrooms. Mulder and Scully were left together alone in the living room. “What just happened?”

“Sleepover,” Scully chuckled.

“You weren’t planning this, were you?”

“No.” She lowered her voice and brought her knees to her chest. “Unless I suddenly gained control of the weather.”

“Knock it off, Scully.”

“I’m just teasing. But my brothers are right. It’s not safe to drive. I’m not up to saving your butt again.” They shared a knowing smile. “Besides, I was happy to have you here tonight.”

“How come?”

“It made things more...bearable tonight.” Without another word, she rose from the couch. “Good night, Mulder.”

“Night, Scully.”

Like ships passing in the sea, he watched Scully glide upstairs for the night as Mrs. Scully let her motherly instinct take over and make Mulder’s temporary bed for the night. He suddenly remembered the spare bag of clothes he kept in his car and rushed outside to grab it real quick before the snow grew any worse.

. . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

The meteorologists, both locally and nationally, metrologists were already calling it The Great Blizzard of 1996. When Mulder and the Scully family had retired for the night, Mother Nature had other plans. There was already almost a foot of snow before it transitioned to sleet, icing in the layers and locking them away. The storm came back with colder temperatures and even heavier bands of snow. Snow, ice, and more snow. And with that, Mulder found himself trapped in Baltimore for the Scully’s makeup Christmas. Unwanted guest indeed.

Mulder found himself waking up in the early morning hours. He could hear the winds battering the side of the house, snow, and ice pelting the windows, and the colorful glow of the Christmas tree dancing around the living room. He did not know what he was doing.

Sleep just didn’t happen for Mulder anymore. After many years of isolation and peculiarness had molded him into a couch dozing insomniac that slept with the tv on. Maybe, deep in his own mind and subconscious, he was still trying to bring back Samantha by somehow recreating that night from November 1973. It seemed awfully true now as the Scully clan tried to recreate the memory of their lost kin.

“Can’t sleep?”

Mulder jumped and spun around. Scully stood in the door frame as the shadows clung to her. Her robe was wrapped tightly around her, her arms weaved into a knot as if trying to protect her against something. She gazed longingly at the multicolored Christmas tree and then to stockings on the old fireplace. “And the stockings were hung on the chimney with care with hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be here,” Scully recited softly. She cleared her throat. “I see Mom is keeping Missy’s up.”

Mulder turned to the stockings counting them quickly. “I count seven.”

“Mom still keeps dad’s up.” She gave a sad smile. “Christmas was a favorite holiday growing up for us. The last time we were all together was the December before I went to the academy.”

Mulder scooted over on the couch as Scully sat next to him. “What a turn of events, huh, Scully?”

“Hmm?”

Mulder gestured to the window as white snow blinded the outside. “Weather. Mother nature. The inconvenience of timing.”

“It depends on the way you look at it, Mulder.”

“I’m probably ruining your little family get-together. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your mother’s scalding gaze.” Self-deprecating humor at its finest. Another mechanism. “I don’t know if I should be alarmed or not.”

“Mulder,” she sighed. She pinched her nose and gave a weak smile. “She’s not mad at you.”

“I’m sure they’re just waiting and plotting. I would know.”

Scully tilted her head to the side and gave him a warm smile. She moved closer to him and rubbed her against his left shoulder smoothing the cotton beneath her palm. “I did it so I could save you. You were out of your mind,” she whispered softly. Even beneath that fabric, she could still feel the puckered scar. “I saved you, didn’t I?”

He chuckled. “Does your mother know what you did?”

“No. And neither do my brothers.”

She smiled in the light and moved closer to Mulder. He stilled as she reached for a stray blanket to pull it over her lap and rest her head against his shoulder. “What are you thinking,” he whispered.

“Those lights and decorations. I think my mom used the last time when we were all together. The last Christmas. It was right before I left for the academy.” She smiled at the memory. “It’s funny because Missy and I were sitting on this very couch, watching those colored lights. I had just been recruited into the FBI and I remember feeling uncertain.”

“You’re never uncertain about anything.”

There was a pause between them and Scully continued to stare off into the distance.  “She told me that…” She took a breath. “She told me don’t mistake a path for what it really represents: the people that we meet along the way. I didn’t know who I was going to meet, how my life was going to change, or whose life I would change along the way.”

Overwhelming guilt wrecked his heart (as if the guilt from Melissa Scully’s death, Scully’s abduction, and the disappearance from his own sister weren’t enough). The silence that ensued must have been enough for Scully to grasp his hand tightly, startling him out of dismal, gloomy thoughts. “Mulder, don’t think that.”

“It’s because of me,” he murmured, “that all this happened to you.”

“Didn’t you hear me? It is a two-way street. With the bad, there has also been good. These three years, I wouldn’t change. I wouldn’t want this journey with anyone else but you.”

Unable to find words he settled for the thing that had worked best for them: unspoken communication. He wrapped his arm around her in a hug. Scully settled her head back against his shoulder in silence. The moment seemed trapped in a bubble that was only meant for the two of them.  “I am incredibly grateful you are here with me now, Mulder, even if it doesn’t feel like it.” She took a deep breath and kissed his temple softly. “Thank you.”

Like a shadow in the night, she quickly retreated leaving a very confused Mulder alone on the couch to wonder exactly what had transpired at that moment.

As the early morning crawled on, the Christmas lights turned off from the automatic timer leaving Mulder in the dark. He did not remember when he dozed off but awoke a few hours later to the smell of coffee being brewed and laughter in the room next door. “Charles, I do not recall that Christmas.”

The voice of Mrs. Scully laughed as there as a masculine snorting of giggles. “Oh shut up, Bill.”

That must be Charlie, she surmised.

Mulder stretched his aching body against the stiff couch, wincing at some unknown muscle cramp. The air was chilled in the living room and he spied a smoldering fireplace in need of fresh wood. Mulder got up to stoke the fire before searching for his Oxford sweatshirt to ward off the chill. His foggy mind, already going through the things that he needed to do the first thing to get back to Alexandria. He’d need to get gas, make sure he had a shovel or something in his car for the snow.

“Mulder.”

He looked up to see Scully standing in the doorway wearing her white fluffy robe and her hair clipped back into a loose bun. She held up a steaming cup of coffee enticingly. “Morning,” he croaked. He gave her a weak smile and tried to comb his bedhead. Scully shook her head and hid her amused smile behind her hand and a fake yawn. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept.” She shrugged and dropped off the coffee onto a side table. “Come join us for breakfast when you’re ready.”

“I think I’ll just get going this morning back to Alexandria.”

Scully smirked and nodded to a window. “I doubt that, Mulder. The snow turned over to sleet and then back to snow overnight. The news is saying at least nine inches.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Come on, let’s get breakfast.”

“Scully, I really can’t impose. I have already done enough damage here.”

“Mulder,” she said calmly. She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. My family isn’t planning to burn you at the stake or anything.” He was taken back by the openness of the invitation. She watched his emotions play across his face and arched her elegant eyebrow. “Is it what we do? Our work? My abduction? What, Mulder?”

“How do you openly invite me here? Expect that your brothers and mothers won’t flail me alive?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “My brothers know we solve unusual cases for the FBI, the cold cases that others won’t touch. They don’t know anything about government conspiracies or anything like that. As long as you don’t say about green little men.”

“They’re gray,” he whispered.

“Green. Gray. I still have yet to scientifically prove it.”

In the span of a few seconds, the platonic partners were decidedly close to one another. Electricity sparked between the air and the strange feeling shifted between them again. Mulder licked his lips as the stray thought of kissing Scully popped up in his mind. Scully was leaning towards him, as if in a trance, before Mrs. Scully’s voice called from the kitchen. “Dana! Fox! If you don’t get in here soon, all these pancakes will be gone.”

With the spell broken, both Mulder and Scully blinked. “Pancakes,” Mulder asked.

“Scully family Christmas tradition. I told you mom is going all out even though it is January. It’s been forever since we’ve had a proper Christmas.” She glanced at the two stockings meant for her passed father and murdered sister. “Even if some of us couldn’t be here.” Mulder opened his mouth to apologize but Scully cut him off. “But I’m very happy you are here with me, Mulder. I really mean it.”

He nodded unable to find anything else to say. Mulder followed her into the kitchen to find Mrs. Scully standing with Charlie by the electric griddle skillfully making pancakes like an assembly line. Bill and Tara sat at the kitchen table reading the copy of The Washington Post from the day before. On the corner of the counter, a small black and white tv had the local news on.

“Boy, oh, boy!” Cried the news anchor. “What was supposed to be a few snow flurries has turned into a full-blow blizzard. Chase, what can you tell us about this storm?”

The camera panned to another man wearing a suit in front of a local weather map colored in various shades of gray, black, and white. “You are right, Craig. I wouldn't dare go out this weather. Last night, we were only looking at a couple of inches of snow and now the forecast is calling for totals up to 20 inches plus. Also, overnight, the snow briefly changed to sleet and then back to snow. Don’t even think about going out in this weather! It’s best to stay hunkered down until this storm passes through tomorrow morning. The drive-in is going to be a mess well so plan accordingly.”

“That’s one thing I don’t miss is snow,” Bill grumbled flipping the paper.

“I forgot,” Charlie called. “Sunny San Diego.”

“And you choose to live in the great white north,” the brother shot back.

“Maine is not the great white north. You’re thinking of Minnesota.”

“I would argue differently. I grew up in Massachusetts and have some memories of nasty winters.”

Mulder stood in the middle of the kitchen, unsure where to go. Scully squeezed his hand discreetly and pulled him to a stool near the kitchen counter where she sat next to him.

“Where exactly did you grow up, Mr. Mulder?” Bill asked.

“The Vineyard,” he answered automatically. Charlie winked at him as he supplied Mulder and his sister coffee. He turned his attention to the small black and white television. “I can try and dig out later this morning, Mrs. Scully once the snow lets up and be out of your hair.”

“Nonsense, Fox. You are not driving back to Virginia in this weather. We’ve already gotten 13 inches and were forecasted to get 10 more. What’s one more mouth to feed.” She looked up and gave him a smile. Mulder did not know how to respond. “If you really want, you can help shovel my driveway.”

Scully smiled. “I tried to tell him that but I told you he is thick-headed.”

“He’s not the only one, Dana.”

“Hey, do you remember when we were in New Haven?” Charlie asked.

“As if you remember,” Bill snorted. “You were three.”

“How can anyone forget the Christmas tree being set on fire? It was clearly your fault. If I recall, I heard something about you trying to ‘light Christmas spirit.’”

“Even I remember it.” Scully grinned.

Mrs. Scully rolled her eyes. “Well, since we have a proper blizzard, why don’t we all just take it easy today. We can all take turns shoveling the driveway to make it more authentic.”

Mulder was about to say something else but Scully’s stern glare made him reconsider. “I think three men can manage that, mom,” Charlie chuckled. “So what does us leaving to do in the meantime?”

“Movies?” Tara suggested.

“Oh, AMC is doing a B-Rated Horror Film Marathon this weekend,” Charlie said excitedly. “That would be awesome.”

“Sounds right up your alley.” Scully elbowed Mulder.

He shifted stiffly and wondered just how much she had told her brothers about him and his far fetched theories. “You all can do that,” Bill shrugged. He remained focused on the paper. “There are some of dad’s things I would like to go through this afternoon.”

“Fun killer,” Charlie called as he skillfully flipped the next batch of pancakes. “Tara? What about you?”

“I would love to. That used to be a favorite thing to do with my sisters.”

“Honestly, Tara,” Bill scoffed. “We don’t have time for such childish things.”

“Shut up, Bill. We’re supposed to be celebrating Christmas, right? Staying in our PJs all day and watching tv was something we did in our family.”

“Ours was nothing but midnight masses,” Charlie added.

“Well, we can always improvise, “ Mrs. Scully answered, “but I doubt that would be any fun.”

“Then it’s settled.” Scully smiled but frowned when she saw Mulder focusing on some unknown spot in front of him. She frowned in frustration.

Breakfast continued without a hitch. Mulder withdrew into himself even further feeling alienated among the Scully clan. He felt trapped. He could take the chance and risk his car on the roads but Scully would save his ass and then kill him for his stupidity. A rouge hand took his own and squeezed it beneath the table top was all he needed to force the smile and endure this bizarre family holiday a bit longer.

The day seemed to be stuck in some sort of time zone because Mulder felt like he was experiencing deja vu. The last time he had experienced Christmas joy, any Christmas joy was the Christmas before Samantha’s abduction. The Mulder's had been a happy family then. But now, he somehow found himself swept along in marathons of horror films with Charlie, Bill’s polite decline to participate, and Tara, Scully, and her mother in the kitchen working on a makeshift dinner. The blizzard of 1996 continued on in spectacular fashion bringing more snow and ice.

At the end of the day, Mulder still found himself trapped with the Scullys with no means of escape.

That night, Mulder heard the grandfather clock in the hallway strike midnight, echoing throughout the silent house. He wished he was somewhere else.

In his makeshift bed on the living room couch, he still could not find a comfortable position. The blue light from the muted tv added to the eerie ambiance from the colored Christmas tree lights. It was nights like this he would call Scully just to hear her voice and his loneliness less palatable. But she was right upstairs and he did not think that he family (especially Big Brother Bill who had regarded him cautiously since his arrival) would take to it very kindly. Lost in his thoughts, he heard the silent scuffle of slippers against the wood floor.

“Still can’t sleep?”

He smiled, recognizing that voice from anywhere. “Could you?”

“I suppose not. Today wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be, was it?”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“You wore you panic face throughout most of breakfast.”

Scully emerged from the shadows. Elegant no matter what, Mulder thought. His partner wore the same robe from the morning before except her hair was down. “You being here I think is helping mom too. The distraction is nice since Missy is no longer here. The first Christmas after dad passed it was a nightmare.”

“I’m glad I’m not too much of a burden.”

“You are never a burden, Mulder.”

He smiled coyly at her. “You know, it’s funny, Scully. I know the special agent but I don’t know the story behind Dana Scully.”

She chewed on her lips playfully and held out her hand. “Want to see?”  Just in the past 48 hours, this new side of Scully that was emerging that he wanted to know more of. Playing her game, he grasped her hand and she lead him down the hall and upstair case. “Watch the second step from the top. It always makes a noise.”

Following her expert direction, they navigated the maze in the dark. Scully led him to a door furthest down the hall. She opened the door to reveal a room frozen in time that belonged to some sort of punk rock teenager. Faded posters decorated the wall above the bed. A black bookcase held numerous copies of books ranging from physics to Latin to Nancy Drew. In the corner was a small desk with a bulletin board covered in various ribbons from science fairs and a University of Maryland flag above it. There was a picture on the bulletin board that looked vaguely familiar.

“Is that you?”

Mulder squinted as he picked up the photo as she shut the door behind them. “I was a bit of a punk.”

“And science wiz,” he added, nodding to the ribbons. “Little Dana Scully was a rebel.”

“Not always,” she said slowly, trying to hide back a laugh. “I did get suspended in my sophomore year for almost blowing up the chemistry lab trying to prove a senior wrong.”

“You took chemistry as a sophomore?”

“Science wiz,” she reminded him. She sat on the bed and patted the space next to her. “I know I’ve told you numerous times but I’m really glad you are here. It’s nice having someone to…” She shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re here, Mulder.”

He took the spot next to him. “I guess we should thank fate.”

She snorted in amusement. “I told you there is no such thing as fate.”

“This blizzard.”

“Convenient timing.”

He leaned closer into her personal space like he did when they were ready to verbally spare. She smiled and shook her head. Something must have shifted between them at that moment. Maybe it was the wintry atmosphere or some random static charge from the dry air, but he leaned forward, and almost teasingly, kissed her. A catalyst exploded between them. He expected her to pull away but she didn’t.

She deepened it.

Rational thought became lost and pure instinct took over. He cupped her face and held it for a moment longer. By the time they broke away to draw breath, words were pouring from his lips. “Scully, I’m sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to…”

The flood of apologies was stopped by a single order.

“Stop.”

He closed his mouth obediently. Her eyes had narrowed and she looked feral.

“There is nothing you should be sorry for. You...you are a good man, a good friend, Mulder…” Scully swallowed, already losing her courage. “And nothing would change between us.”

“Maybe I want them to change.”

Scully arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

Mulder did not know the exact moment he fell in love with her but the past two years and her abduction only made it worse for him. During her absence, he did not know how close he was to pulling that trigger and blowing out his brains. He never had such thoughts during the years after Samantha’s appearance but without Scully, life seemed worthless. But this moment...oh how he wished for this moment since he had laid eyes on her again.

“Change?”

“I wanted this,” he confessed, “for a very long time.”

“Mulder.”

“I understand if I have overstepped my bounds.”

He was panicking. This was falling apart, everything was becoming a slow-motion horrific accident. Thoughts of a ruined partnership, their work, being alone. He began to pull away. He needed to run. To escape.

“Mulder. Mulder!”

Her voice called out to him like a lifeline. He looked down as Scully took his hand and pulled him back down beside her. “I don’t want to ruin what we already have.”

“You won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his thigh enticingly and Mulder closed his eyes with flushed cheeks. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that. He heard the locking of a door and he knew then, he couldn’t escape. Her hands rested on his shoulders and trailed down his arms. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she hugged him from behind. “Despite me being a bit of a rebel in high school, most boys never made it this far. You’re the first,” she teased.

“First what?” Mulder breathed.

Once again during the past 48 hours, he was surprised at this side of Scully. Or was this Dana? “Mulder, don’t make me scientifically prove the nature of the whammy.”

He burst out laughing as Scully met his lips sensually and he was gone. Gone was his resolve any fears. Her hands had a mind all their own. Mulder sighed in between kisses and let Scully take the lead. Like a dancer, she came around to the front and kneeled in front of him.  Mulder smiled and ran his hands down Scully’s hips appreciatively. “Scully,” he murmured. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. However,” she licked her lips. “Charlie's is right next door. My mother, Bill, and Tara are right down the hall. We’ll have to be quiet.”

“Quiet,” he chuckled. He turned serious. “Scully, we can still avoid this if you want.”

“Mulder, let me tell you something,” she began, “there was always something between us, wasn’t there?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“I remember,” she continued, slipping off her robe, “after my abduction, visiting with my mom and Missy. You came in with that stupid video.” She chuckled at the memory. “I know you only stayed briefly but I was glad you came.”

“I called you. Sorry, but meeting your big sister kind of unnerved me.”

“Worse than Bill?” She bit back a grin.

“I don’t know. I think Charlie likes me, but Bill…”

“Firstborn are usually stubborn.” Mulder raised his eyebrow in mock horror. “You are my evidence. After you left, Missy stayed with me until the morning. We talked a lot. About life. You. Cosmic connections. Us.”

“She came to my apartment one night before I got your call that you were back. Someone told me I was going to be killed and at that point, I had nothing to live for. You were gone. Samantha…” Mulder scoffed. “You were real. You were always real and something I could save.”

“We’ll still find your sister.”

“At the loss of yours?”

She gave a weak smile and gently wrapped an arm around his neck. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here with me now, Mulder. You were there that night.”

“But you still couldn’t say goodbye.”

She sighed and drew him closer. “Is that what’s been bothering you the entire time being here? Deep down?” Mulder looked down and felt the atmosphere become suffocating. “Look at me. It’s not your fault, Mulder. What happened to Missy is not your fault. I don’t blame you.”

“What about your mother?”

“Don’t worry about her. Or Bill. Or Charlie.”

Mulder lowered his head. How did always do this to him? Make him weak in the knees and doubt everything he has ever known. She brought him closer. “She told me once that we were, and I quote, ‘Once in a lifetime.’”

“Who? Your sister?”

She nodded. “The first time I told her about you. I was complaining about how were stubborn you were and she told me that is was no different than me.”

Mulder gave a weak smile. His mind was melted at this point. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured this, Scully,” he whispered.

“Pictured what?”

“This.”

He pulled off her robe slowly and tossed it the ground. She shivered as the cold air hit her. Mulder saw the soft blue silk pajamas reflected in the soft light from the lamp. She blushed and whispered, “Lights on or off?”

“On,” he whispered reverently. “I want to see all of you.”

The first time he had a fantasy with her, Mulder had felt that he had committed the holiest of sins and paid with a bottle of tequila, a hangover, and a shiner on his eye that made Scully raise a suspicious eyebrow on the following Monday. But as much as he tried to fight it, he was powerless to do anything but give in. He was startled out of his thoughts as she ran her hand over him appreciatively and his body responded automatically. He let out a guttural moan; God, it had been too long since someone had touched him like that. “I’m just conducting a thorough investigation, Mulder,” she responded.

“I’m sure,” he swallowed, “but if you keep doing that, this won’t last long.”

“Well, we better get busy then.”

Mulder still could not believe this was happening. Blood rushed in his ears and he could hear the wind outside howled. Scully pulled Mulder’s shirt off first and gave a soft smile. He shivered himself as the cold air hit his skin. “Let’s get under the covers,” he whispered.

Her hands were distracting as they slipped beneath the small blanket of the double bed. He rolled to his side and slowly unbuttoned her top. Milky white skin slowly appeared and he touched her reverently slowly making his way up. When her first breast appeared, he knew she was a goddess fallen to earth. “Aphrodite, Venus,” he mumbled. He kissed her soundly and squeezed her breast slowly, trying to memorize everything. “A goddess come to life.”

Mulder grew bolder in his exploration moving his mouth to one breast and then the other, heaping worship upon her altar. She sighed breathily, raking her fingers through his hair, and leaned her head back. Mulder was already on fire but hearing her sigh “Mulder…” set him aflame.

Her arms wrapped around him and he felt her nails lightly scratch down his back. The cold and snow from the Blizzard of 1996 continued to rage outside. He could faintly hear little bits of snow and ice hitting the window glass but none of that mattered. For the first time in ages, he was alive and the icy loneliness that plagued his life had finally melted in her embrace. Time vanished and Mulder became a firm believer in missing time except, for this, he wanted his photographic memory to remember everything.

Mulder broke away from his adoration of Scully to look up and share a gaze with her. Her face was flushed as she smiled.  “It’s been so long,” she whispered.

“Try to be quiet then,” he chuckled. He kissed her before disappearing the beneath the covers. His mind raced a thousand miles per hour and he didn’t know if he should take it slow or like a flash flood. He kissed her exposed abdomen, panting heavily. “What do you want?”

“I want to remember everything,” she breathed.

Mulder smiled and placed a series of kisses until he reached the waistband of her pants. She lifted her waist without command as he pulled them down. Mulder was intoxicated by both the scent of her and the thrill of the moment. Scully was already lifting her hips as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and pulled downwards. If Mulder was a religious man, he would be proclaiming a miracle. A variety of dirty thoughts came to mind but one stuck out in particular. Overcome with lust and passion, he nuzzled her lower half, almost bashfully, nuzzled her. She jerked in response. He sought and took her hand, calming her in the process. She relaxed slightly and felt something move above him: a pillow.

“Scully?”

“Fine,” came the muffled reply. Mulder strained his ears trying to discern if she was uncomfortable or not. “I’m good, Mulder.”

The tone in her voice threw him off. Was she in pain? Or was it something else. He began to hesitate but he felt her fingers run through his hair reassuringly. It was enough for him to continue. He went back to his ministrations, testing out this and that, teasing her until he felt her writhing beneath him. Scully’s hips lifted and he heard her muffled cries. That explains the pillow, he thought, smiling.

Mulder eventually broke away and slid back up to greet Mulder with a kiss. He was smiling; she was smiling. “That was amazing,” she chuckled. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“I hope not. A pillow, Scully? Really?”

“Shut up.” A devilish grin spread across her face. “Enough with the formalities, Mulder. Let’s get down to business.”

She reached into the drawer and pulled out a condemn. He raised an eyebrow with the unasked question. “It’s good. And I know we’re good…” She caressed his cheek. “Perks of also being your doctor.”

“Remind me to have you make house calls more often.”

With expertise he suspected that was from her medical education, Scully slipped on the condemn and rubbed him possessively. She smiled and whispered, “I want all of you.”

She tore off his shirt and sweats eagerly. Mulder lifted his hips and crushed her lips. Scully lifted her neck as he trailed a row of kisses down to shoulder where he bit into her shoulder blade, marking her. She lifted her hips meeting hip and let out a loud cry. She howled into her shoulder. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured into her ear.

“We have to be quiet,” she whispered. “The blizzard will only hide our...enjoyment for so long.”

“Well, I’m just getting started.

Something overcame both of them. Maybe it was desperateness, maybe it was the blizzard, maybe it was the moment. They both guided Mulder into her, working together as they did in everything.together. She sighed at the initial contact and moaned at the sudden fullness. “Oh, Mulder.”

He drew a sharp breath in. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no.” She tried to relax. “It’s just been a while.”

“Me too.” He started moving slowly and she shifted beneath him. “Scully, if I’m hurting you…”

“You’re fine, Mulder. I just didn’t expect you to be so…”

“What?”

“There’s a lot of you to go around.” She chuckled at her own joke. “Everything feels wonderful.”

Mulder focused his effort into trying to please her, no one but her. He wanted to make her forget the shadow the death of a lost sister had caused her along with her mother’s shame and the scorching glare that her big brother had been plaguing them since their arrival.

She breathed sharply and whispered, “More.”

He redoubled his efforts. He entwined their hands like vines and pushed them above her head. He attacked her with new fever, swallowing her breathy moans and sighs with his rough kisses. Gone were the thoughts of being trapped in a snowstorm but rather whatever it was they created. Mulder tried to show Scully how much he cared for her, what she meant, and that he would do anything for her. Her ankles crossed behind his back and dug into his muscles, holding him her. Then he felt it. She was coming with a quick series of contractions that pulled him over with her. Mulder howled into her shoulder as he became spent and collapsed on top of her. She ran her hands up in down his bare back as he withdrew, tied off the condemn, and threw it a small trash can.

“So classy,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re not a cheap date, Scully.” He was already shivering as he dashed back to her bed and to the warmth. She coiled around him and smiled against his chest. “You are like a little heater.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, G-man.”

Mulder rolled to the side and used his long arm to turn off the lamp. She whispered something to him and although he probably misunderstood, he slid out of the cold air to open the blinds slightly before rushing back under the covers to the warmth they had created. They watched the snowfall in the streetlights together. He rolled onto his side and pulled Scully’s bare form against him. “This is something I could get used to,” he teased gently.

As they watched memorized, the blinding winds had lessened slightly and now just gentle snow fell. They could see the pristine streets covered in an eerie glow from the orange street lights. Scully pulled his arm tighter around her. “I’m glad you are here,” she murmured loudly enough so he could just hear her. “When mom asked, I tried to think of an excuse not to come. Missy’s shadow still hanging over this house. The bad whatever left from me not being there or the fact it should have been me. It should’ve been me, Mulder.”

“I’m sorry for Missy,” he whispered, “I really am. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you again. I can’t lose you again.”

“I know,” Scully whispered. “But with you being here, right now. Stuck in a snowstorm. Making love in my childhood home, despite the rebelliousness of it, I am grateful you are here. I am happy to have you here with me, Mulder. You make this bearable.”

He was quiet for a moment before he answered. His emotions spun like the snow outside before it settled one conclusion. He hugged her tightly, vowing to protect her and keep her happy no matter what. “No place where I would rather be,” he replied. He kissed the crook of her neck. “Sleep.”

With a final sigh of contentment, Scully let herself drift off finally as Mulder kept vigil and watched the falling snow.

. . . . . . . . .

Sunday, January 7, 1996

Because they were creating their own Christmas holiday in January and the snowstorm prevented Mrs. Scully from attending mass with her family, she decided the next thing: celebrate a January Christmas on a Sunday. Charlie was the first to wake up that morning at four a.m, somehow beating his mother’s habitual early rising. He had always been a light sleeper as a result of his father’s early morning revelries. He slipped downstairs to start the coffee first and noticed the rumpled blankets and absent guest on the couch. He raised an eyebrow before smirking. He and Dana had always been close growing up. Unlike their old siblings, only a year separated Dana and Charlie and the two often found themselves partners-in-crime covering for each other’s adolescent antics. He smirked as he sipped his morning coffee, already guessing what had transpired judging by Mulder’s empty couch. He supposed that he could still be a reliable accomplice to his sister.

At 4:30, with his coffee in hand, he twisted the doorknob gently and found it locked; a tell-tale sign Dana was up to something. He jiggled the handout a bit more before rasping lightly against the white wood door. “Dana,” he called out quietly. He eyed Bill’s room and his mothers. “Dae.”

There was movement on the other side. Some muffled exchange and cussing about the cold. The door opened the crack and he saw his sister’s narrowed blue eyes in the twilight light from the Christmas tree downstairs. “I thought I would give you a wake-up call before mom or Bill got up. And Mulder too.” He smelled the familiar scent of a good night spent with someone wafting off her. “And you may want to clean up?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m the first one up, promise. And I won’t tell a soul. Take my coffee.”

“Not a word,” she breathed.

“See you in a bit.”

She shut the door soundly and Charlie bit back his laughter at the entire situation. Downstairs in the kitchen with only the stove light to keep him company, Dana emerged look fresh with Mulder trailing behind her like a puppy dog. Both avoided eye contact with him. Charlie stood at the kitchen counter, fighting a grin. “Coffee’s fresh. And I won’t tell a soul, promise.”

Mulder’s eyes shot up in alarm and glanced at Scully as some unspoken conversation occurred between them. She was pouring herself a cup. “Charlie already knows,” she moaned.

“How?’ Mulder asked.

“I’m not going to castrate you,” he shrugged. “Dae and I were partners in crime. We used to cover for each other when we would do more questionable things.”

“Like that library fire?” She asked.

“Once and they never caught me.”

“Don’t forget your big sister is an FBI agent.”

“Right. What are you gonna do? Arrest me, copper?”

Mulder watched the exchanged and wondered faintly if it would have been that way with Samantha. Charlie nodded towards Mulder. “He’s the best you’ve done.”

“I appreciate you have taken an interest in my taste of men,” she muttered. “Mulder, do you want anything?”

“I’m good, Scully.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Why do you call her that?”

“What?”

Mulder shifted uncomfortably.

“Why do you call her Scully?”

“Why not? She’s Scully,” Mulder answered. He shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s cute.”

“Charlie, remember I also know how to get away with murder if I wanted to,” Scully hissed. She blew on her cup of coffee. “And no one would be the wiser.”

“What else is new. If Missy could see you now.”

“You are bad enough by yourself.”

Mulder looked away at the mention of the Melissa Scully. Charlie took a cup of the cupboard and poured some coffee. He offered it to Mulder like an olive branch. “I don’t judge, Mulder. You’re good for my sister, despite what others may think.” The brother watched his eyes dart toward his sister. “I know about her abduction and everything else. You make her happy. I see it. I can hear about it every time we talk. You’re good for Dana. And that’s good enough for me. Even if you are sleeping with her.” Their silence was insinuating. “Oh, nice one, Dana. First time in mom’s house. In your childhood bed?”

“A needle between the toes with a small enough dosage to stop your heart,” she told Charlie ominously.

Her brother watched Mulder become at ease a bit and smiled. He took the cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t cross her, Charlie. She shot me once.”

“Dana’s all fire and no bite,” he replied.

Mulder glanced at Scully and pulled at his shirt to reveal a puckered bullet wound on his left shoulder. “Wanna bet?”

“No way.” Charlie bent closer to examine the wound. “Dana actually shot you?”

“To be fair, I was out of my mind. But your sister is good enough to perform surgery with a PPK and take it out with a field surgery kit in her apartment. I wouldn’t tease her.”

Charlie chuckled. “I have a scar on my arm from one our antics that never healed. Once she mars you, she owns you. Welcome to the club.”

The love-struck gaze between the two did not go unnoticed.

By six a.m., the rest of the Scully clan had awoken. Charlie watched the morning unfurl with delight. Dana was more reserved than usual. Mulder wouldn’t leave his sister's side. Bill had started mastering their father’s glare and directed towards Mulder. His sister-in-law and mother seemed ignorant. But Charlie also knew his mother.

Unlike Bill and Dana, he had followed a path similar to Melissa where he discovered his own way. After high school, he waited tables, eventually becoming a hotshot bartender in Philadelphia before finding a full-time job in marketing where he could utilize all the sale skills he had mastered throughout the year. He also learned how to read people. Mrs. Scully wanted to keep Mulder at a distance but she would not let her feelings disappointment show for Dana’s sake. By eight, there was a buffet of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and biscuits and gravy. Everyone helped themselves to large portions (except Mulder and Dana who shared a plate). Dana made up an excuse about bad habits in the field. Charlie knew better.

By nine, there was the unofficial six o’clock Christmas roll call to be held fashionably late three hours later. Presents were exchanged and Bill’s glare seemed to grow. Halfway through the present exchange, Charlie excused himself to refill his coffee with Bill trailing his younger brother into the kitchen. “Are you helping me with the coffee now, Bill?”

Bill stalked behind Charlie and shut the door to the kitchen behind them. “Don’t you find it a little suspicious?”

The younger brother arched an eyebrow suspiciously as he poured a fresh coffee. “What are you talking about?’

“Dana and her partner.” Bill scrunched his face like a child at yucky food. “Mulder.”

“What about him?”

“Doesn’t this sit with as a bit odd or off?”

“What?”

“Them. What they’re doing.”

“You sound worse than dad. Dana is a grown woman. Let her do what she wants.”

“Haven’t you seen how he looks at her. There has to be more to it.”

“So what if there is, Bill? That is none of our business.”

“If dad could see Dana now, his little pride and joy, now. I knew the FBI was a bad idea. A boys club. I told you.”

“What are you trying to imply? That Dana should be at home and have a nice doctor for a husband?”

“Well, at least Melissa would be alive,” he spat.

“You don’t know that.”

Both brothers turned around to see their youngest sister’s eyes narrowed dangerously at her brothers. Charlie knew that scorching glare that she seemed to develop all her own. He looked away trying to find something that would occupy his time. “Charlie, stop hiding from me.”

“I didn’t say anything, Dana. You’re the one leaving Mulder alone with mom.”

“He’s a big boy and Tara seems to have taken quite a sign of affection to him.”

Her steely blue eyes zeroed in on Bill whose own look hardened in determination. “You know full well he doesn’t belong here, Dana. He’s already ruined this family enough. First with your abduction and then with Missy. Where does it end with him?”

“He had nothing to do with my abduction. And don't think I don’t know about who convinced mom to finally give up hope and get my headstone,” she hissed. “At least Mulder never gave up hope on me.”

“What was I supposed to do, Dana? Dad is gone and then, less than a year, you are too. How could you continue to put her through that? He was only making things worse.”

Scully slammed a coffee cup hard onto the counter with such force that she broke the handle off bashing her left hand. “Son of a bitch,” she hissed. She reached for a towel in order to stem the blood flow as Charlie looked down in alarm. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“Charlie? Bill? Dana? Is everything all right?” There mother’s voice came from the other room.

Bill watched his little sister continue to stare daggers at him. “Everything’s fine, mom,” Bill said. “Charlie and Dana were just cleaning up.”

Still aware of her smoldering gaze, he left without saying a word. Charlie looked at her impressed. “I think that’s the first time I have ever seen him shut up just be someone looking at him. FBI teach you that?”

“Sometimes we just learn that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for,” she answered evasively. “Charlie, run to the first aid kit and grab it for me? I think it’s still under the sink.”

“Don’t you need stitches or something?”

“Probably but were we going to get that in this weather? Check the kitchen drawer. I think mom has some superglue in there.”

“You’re not serious, Dae.”

“If you can’t do it, go get Mulder then,” she snapped. She pulled back the towel to reveal a small gash going down her palm. “God forbid mom sees this.”

“I’m not the enemy.” He went to the kitchen drawer and began to search for the requested item. “Is it true that you actually shot, Mulder?”

“Yes.”

Scully was clearly distracted. She turned the sink on and ran warm water over the small gash. Charlie watched in amazement as his sister did not flinch as she cleaned the wound. She skillfully dressed the wound and thankfully did not need to glue the gash shut. He leaned against the counter as she took a deep breath to steady herself. “Dana?”

“I didn’t plan on this blizzard and I knew he wanted to leave. He’s been eyeing that exit since we came here. But I’m glad he’s here, Charlie. As fucked up it is sounds, he’s made this bearable for me.”

“Missy liked him, you know. She told me about him on the rare occasion we talked. I don’t what you all have going on and I don’t care what’s got Bill’s undies in a twist, he’s good for you, Dana.”

Scully motioned for her brother’s help and he tied off the bandage around her hand. “I’m glad to hear that,” she whispered. Scully flashed a smile. “I’m glad you get along with him.”

“He’s…” Charlie leaned against the counter, crossed his arm, and tried to find an answer. “He’s not what I expected from you, Dana.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Daniel? Marcus? What was that other guy’s name? Your FBI instructor…Jack?”

“Maybe I should have told Missy instead of you.”

“Oh, she told me everything as it was when I could get a hold of her.”

Scully grew quiet. “You miss her.”

“We all do,” she answered.

“Dana, Charlie, are you going to stay in the kitchen all morning?”

Their mother’s voice pulled them from the tension that surrounded them. Charlie motioned with his arm for Scully to reenter the living room. Big Brother Bill was discussing something with Tara. Mulder was talking to Maggie that caused her to laugh and try and hide it behind her hand. Bill glared at her partner and then directed his wrath towards Charlie.

“You certainly took your time,” the oldest brother stated. He narrowed his eyes as Mulder and then Scully. “What happened to your hand, Dana?”

“I must’ve cut it,” she said dismissively. Charlie sat next to his mother and Scully next to Mulder. “I’m okay, really.”

Mulder was staring at her the same way he did when he was on the edge of forming a theory. He gingerly lifted her bandaged hand for an inspection as her and Charlie’s gaze met. “Are you sure?” Mulder asked. Charlie could hear the pain in his voice. “Scully?”

“Fine, Mulder. I promise.”

“You need to be more careful, Dana,” their mother admonished. “Now, let’s continue where we left off.”

Charlie watched Dana smile and lean against Mulder’s shoulder. Bill cast a withering glare before picking up a wrapped present for Tara. If their mother suspected of something, she wisely kept silent and the peace.

At January 7th continued, so did the snow. Mrs. Scully continued to play hostess entertaining her children. They all tried to pass the time by watching endless movies on the television. There was a feeling of relative peace in the household. After dinner, Bill and Tara retired to bed early as did Charlie and Mrs. Scully. Something about the notion of endless snow made the household sleepy and go to bed early. Mulder and Scully were left downstairs on his makeshift living room bed watching the weather channel on television

Now that they were alone, Mulder was afraid of doing anything else that resembled what they had the night before in her bedroom. Now that they were alone, downstairs, he wondered what he was again doing here. Stuck in Baltimore. In the middle of a snowstorm. In her mother’s house. “So today was nice,” he started.

“Bill was such an ass,” she answered in a quiet voice. She lifted her bandaged hand to inspect it. “But Charlie seems to like you.”

“Does he know?” He took her bandaged hand and held in, resting it on his thigh. She arched an eyebrow as he suddenly pulled back. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Mulder.” She played with his long fingers. “Last night wasn’t a mistake. I wanted it just as much as you.”

“But do you view it as a mistake. We can’t go back,” he said cautiously. “What happens when the snow is done and I go back to Alexandria, you go back to Georgetown, and we walk into the Hoover the next morning? What about the work?”

“The work,” she muttered. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Mulder, there’s more to it than the work. It’s our journey now, together.” He was quiet. “Or was I wrong in assuming so?”

He shook his head. “It became about you,” he whispered. “It’s all about you. When we were on the bridge and you were being held hostage by that alien bounty hunter and I had to choose you or my sister...the only thing I saw was you. The only thing I could think of was you. I mean, here was my sister but you were the only constant thing I had in a very long time.” He gave Scully a wistful smile. “You were one heck of a little spy.”

“Still trying to debunk your work,” she teased.

“What are we doing, Scully?” he asked. His eyes stared down the hallways that led upstairs to her sleeping family. “Last night…”

“What about last night?”

“Was it a mistake,” Mulder asked. He let his insecurity show. “What we did? I’m half surprised that you haven’t thrown me out into the blizzard.”

“Why would I do that?” She played with his hair. “What?”

“This is something else I can get past. This Scully…” He played with her fingers and the gauze bandage. “You are so…”

“What?”

“Relaxed,” he replied, unable to say anything else.

“Mulder, I told you the truth. I am glad you are here. You make all this bearable. The past few months since Missy’s death, I sensed some sort of...tension between my mother and me. I feel like a part of her wishes it should have been me instead of her. I told you that she and Missy were close like me and dad right?” She shook her head. “I am glad you are here with me, Mulder. I don’t know where we are going down this journey or what the next step will be,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this,” she motioned back and forth between   “to stop.”

Mulder relaxed slightly and gave her a wistful smile. “You are full of surprises, Scully.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied with a smirk, “I’m an x-file.”

Only Scully could turn something he said into something so wonderful. “I want to believe…” he teased.

She leaned closer and kissed him with a sigh. Mulder lounged back into the couch taking her with him. Unlike the night before, they were not rushed this time. He felt like a teenager and was about to get in trouble. He shifted Scully so they both were on their side facing each other. “We can’t be too loud.”

“We could go back upstairs,” he breathed.

His hands were remapping her body, cataloging each sigh and twist of her body. When he found that magic little space between her legs, she gasped. Sensing there was more coming, he increased his ministrations. There was suddenly a different sound coming from upstairs: the creaking of old stairs.

“Wait, wait. Scully!” He hissed.

She bit into his shoulder as another wave of pleasure overtook her. The footsteps were growing closer and despite Mulder’s handy work briefly pausing, the sensations Scully was causing was making him extremely uncomfortable suddenly. “Scully,” he whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

“I’m trying,” came the rushed pant in her ear, “but you’re making this very hard by being so good.”

Mulder awkwardly pulled a blanket over her and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was asleep. Scully tried to smother a giggle that was threatening to erupt. Her hands played with him teasingly and he clinched his eyes in response. They both heard the footsteps drawing closer and Bill’s familiar voice mutter, “God damn them,” before stalking away.

Scully’s head emerged from underneath the blanket and looked at Mulder with hooded eyes. “What else do you do, Mulder?”

. . . . . . . . . .

January 8, 1996

The snow had finally stopped the next morning and it looked like an alien land as the snow reflected like crystals in the rising sun. Mulder stood by the front door, admiring the snow the stopped just below his knee through the glass storm door. He could walk through that, couldn’t he? The idea of facing Bill with the possible knowledge that he slept with his baby sister made him sick inside. Charlie was enough and did not seem keen on maiming him but Bill…

Mulder shivered.

Would he have been the same if Sam was alive? Sam...Melissa Scully. The crushing guilt came back suddenly as he was suddenly brought out of his reverie when Scully came up beside him with a cup of coffee. “He doesn’t know,” she murmured. “And even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything.” Scully eyed the snowfall. “And you wouldn’t make it down the block.”

“What makes you think I would be going alone?”

Her laughter was soft and she pulled at his hand, bringing him back into the kitchen. Mrs. Scully was making another breakfast fit for an army. Charlie was reading yesterday’s paper. Tara was watching the news while she helped her mother-in-law with the food preparation. Bill was conspicuously absent. “At least the weather has cleared up, Fox. They usually plow the roads within a day so you and Dana can get back to work. I must admit, I enjoyed your company as an added guest.”

“Thank you for not letting me freeze to death.”

Maggie chuckled. “I’m not cold-hearted, Fox.”

“Besides, the entire Scully family is not out to kill you,” Charlie added from behind the news section. Dana sat next to her brother and tossed a balled napkin at him. “I’m just stating a fact, Dana.”

Tara tore her eyes away from the television. “They are talking about shutting down the federal government for a few days because of the weather. Even if you could go back to work, you wouldn’t need to.”

“We’re classified as essential personnel,” Scully replied, “but it wouldn’t make a damn difference because of the government shutdown. We aren’t getting paid right now  .”

“Think Newt Gingrich orchestrated this blizzard, Scully?”

“It’d be a convenient excuse anyways,” she laughed.

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you were still a doctor.”

All eyes spun to Bill who looked less than pleased that morning. “Bill, I told you to stay in bed. Throwing up all night.”

“Throwing up?” Maggie Scully raised an eyebrow, going into mother mode. “Are you okay, Bill?”

“Fine,” he groaned. “I saw something very unpleasant.”

He directed his scorching gaze towards Mulder as Tara and Mrs. Scully abandoned breakfast to baby Big Brother Bill back up to bed. Scully remained silent as Charlie folder the paper causally. “Well, Dana,” he murmured, “at least you still have one Scully on your side and that knows.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“Don’t worry, Mulder. Bill hates everyone that Dana saw. You’re nothing special.”

Underneath the table, Mulder felt Scully squeeze his hand and give him a soft smile. Charlie set the paper aside and looked at his sister. “You were rather loud last night, Dana.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as Mulder wisely decided to take a sip of coffee and keep his mouth shut.

“For what it’s worth, Mulder. I’m glad you are here with Dana. Certainly spices things up in more ways than one,” he laughed.

Scully blushed and squeezed her partner’s hand as Mulder chuckled, unable to come up with a reply.

. . . . . . . . .

January 10, 1996

By Tuesday, the city and state authorities had worked through the past 48 hours to clear the roads enough for Charlie, Mulder, and Scully decide it was time to depart Maggie Scully’s house and get back to their own lives. Mrs. Scully said goodbye with Tara in front of the house. Mulder caught Bill’s scorching glare from upstairs. Goodbyes were said by Mulder, Scully, Charlie as they departed to go their separate way. As the FBI partners got into the recently unearthed car to head by to Georgetown.

“Not how you thought it would turn out, huh?”

“Not bad at all, Scully.”

“Bill certain hates you.”

“Well, your mother doesn’t. Yet.”

“Give it time,” he answered.

She laughed as they began the treacherous drive back to spend an extra day off together before the snows safely melted.

[justkeeponsimming]

Welcome to the Sims 4 Neighbourhood Legacy Challenge! This legacy challenge is designed to showcase the best of every neighbourhood within the Sims 4. Each generation will be based within each Sims 4 neighbourhood - so this will require all of the current packs! However, if you don’t have a certain pack, it’s totally ok to skip a generation or mix it up to your tastes! We have 8 out of 11 generations complete so far, so I will get to work on these ASAP! Let’s get started with your founder:

Starting Out:

~ Create a young adult sim (any gender/preference). They may be any species (alien, vampire, berry etc.) CC is allowed! ~ Select your aspiration and traits for your founding sim - you must pick one trait from 3 out of the four different categories (one emotional, one hobby, one lifestyle or one social - any combo) e.g bro (social), lazy (lifestyle) and bookworm (hobby). This will be the trait selection style for each sim born into the legacy. You may wish to make this harder by randomising a trait within each category as well! ~ Set your lifespan to long or normal - long is recommended ~ At the start of each generation you must move your sim into the neighbourhood and lot required for this level of the legacy. Your sim may not move, but is free to travel to any world they please ~ You must complete all aspirations unless specified in the generation  ~ No cheats apart from MOO, resetting sims etc.

Generation One ~ Fall From Grace (Del Sol Valley - Get Famous Required)

Required Trait: self absorbed + 2 traits from other categories Career: Acting Aspiration: World Famous Celebrity, Master Actress/Actor or Mansion Baron

~ move your sim into the 64x64 lot in the pinnacles. Bulldoze the lot and give yourself $5,000 to build a house then take away the rest! This is your temporary dwelling whilst your lavish mansion is being built ~ join the acting career and reach the top of the career - you want to be a household name ~ Max the acting, charisma and mischief skills ~ befriend as many celebrities as you can and throw lavish parties at least once per season (requires seasons) or every two sim weeks  ~ earn a pristine celebrity level and buy all the positive fame perks ~ meet your spouse on the way to an audition and fall in love at first sight ~ have a big fancy wedding and take time out of your career to start a family, but start a social media profile to blog your parenting adventures ~ once you are an adult and hit a pristine fame level, have a midlife crisis and begin an affair with a coworker ~ get caught and your spouse finds out. Book a celebrity cleanse to reset your fame tree, then purchase all of the negative fame perks. Pick fights with the press and be dismissive of your fans as people keep shaming you for your affair! All press is good press, right? ~ get divorced and your spouse moves out, taking your family with them. You never remarry but spend the rest of your life reforming broken ties with your family and restoring your public image, realising the error of your ways

Generation 2 ~ Humble Beginnings (Oasis Springs, base game required)

Required Trait: Loner + 2 traits from other categories Career: Self employed (make money via skills) Aspiration: Freelance Botanist, The Curator or Angling Ace

~ move into one of the 20x15 lots in Oasis Springs ~ use your starter funds to build a starter house (or download one from the gallery). You cannot move to a bigger lot and must build the best house you can on this lot ~ you may not have a career, but you may make money from any of the following physical skills: fishing, handiness/woodworking, gardening, flower arranging (seasons required) ~ max two “practical” (as above) skills and max a bonus “hobby” skill in your spare time - painting, cooking etc. ~ complete the frogs and fossils collections (at least base game ones) ~ make friends with the welcome wagon - become best friends with all of them and fall in love with one, later to be your spouse ~ have a quaint wedding and only invite your family but not your founding sim - you’ve cut ties since they tainted your family name by going off the rails ~ have two children, but keep them close and try to encourage them not to socialise and make friends. You want to protect them from people discovering that they are related to your founder

Generation 3 ~ Breaking Out - (San Myshuno, City Living required)

Required Trait: Ambitious + 2 traits from other categories Career: Critic, Political or Social Media Aspiration: City Native

~ move into an apartment in the spice district and use your starting funds to furnish as you please ~ choose your career and make your voice heard - join a protest (political), paint a mural (critic), or check in at a hotspot (social media) at least once a week to get yourself noticed - you want to be on top like your grandparents! ~ reach level 10 of chosen career ~ max charisma, singing skills and a skill pertaining to your career (eg painting/cooking for critic, logic for political, comedy/programming for social media) ~ focus on your fame level (optional - get famous required) ~ learn all of the recipes San Myshuno has to offer - you want to experience everything this city has to offer! ~ join any protest that you see no matter what career you are in  ~ unlock the street performer outfit and perform for tips as a street performer at least once ~ gain a crush on someone unobtainable (family friend, someone already dating etc.) and date around trying to find someone to replace them, but you can’t get them out of your mind! ~ have a child/children with one of the sims you date, invite them to move in and get engaged but don’t get married ~ as an elder, your unobtainable crush has been widowed. Leave your current partner and marry your crush - finally being with the person of your dreams!

Generation 4 ~ A Wild Ride (Windenburg, Get Together required)

Required Trait: Insider + two traits from other categories Career: Entertainer or Culinary (mixologist branch) Aspiration: Leader of the Pack then Serial Romantic

~ move into one of the lots in Old Town in Windenburg, you want to be up close and personal to all of the nightlife! ~ join the entertainer or culinary career (mixologist branch) so you have an excuse to get paid to party! Your work is not your main focus, so you do not need to max this career ~ start a singles club and meet some other like minded individuals. Gain a club with at least 8 members and  ~ Complete the leader of the pack aspiration, then take on the serial romantic aspiration when you realise settling down is not for you ~ host a dance party every weekend and attend singles nights/themed bar nights when you can ~ max a skill pertaining to your career: (guitar/comedy for entertainer, mixology for culinary/mixologist branch). Max your dance and DJ skills so you can be the life of the party ~ Have a minimum of two children with one of your lovers, or have each child have a different father  ~ Have one of your children’s fathers propose to you, but decline the proposal as that level of commitment is not for you.  ~ You may remain single or have one of your children’s fathers move in with you to help raise your family, but remain in an open relationship

Generation 5 ~ Settling Down (Willow Creek, Base Game required)

Required Trait: Family-Oriented + two traits from other categories Career: Writer or Doctor (get to work required) Aspiration: Big Happy Family or Super Parent (Parenthood required)

~ using funds from the previous generations, move into a large family home (3 or 4 bedrooms) in the Courtyard Lane district of Willow Creek ~ immediately join the job of your choice and aim to max your career ~ adopt a pet to give you company whilst you search for a spouse (cats and dogs required) ~ go on a few speed dates (one date only) with some sims you meet, but no one seems to be the right fit for you. ~ become close to a co-worker and finally realise they are your soulmate ~ host a wedding in your backyard where you invite all of your family to try and reunite everyone back together after all of the difficult times you have been through ~ max a skill for your career (logic - doctor/writing - writer), parenting (parenthood required) and baking skills (get to work required) ~ have four children and have each child earn the happy toddler/top-knotch toddler trait and max a childhood aspiration ~ each of your children must earn at least one positive character value trait and earn a special relationship type (parenthood required) ~ have one of your children collect all of the void critters (kids room stuff required) ~ buy each of your children a minor pet ~ hamster etc (my first pet stuff required)

Generation 6 ~ Furry Friends (Brindleton Bay, Cats and Dogs Required)

Required Trait: Dog Lover or Cat Lover + two traits from other categories Career: Business, then Vet Clinic Aspiration: Friend of the World

~ move into the Cavalier Cove district of Brindleton Bay and immediately purchase a lot in Sable Square for your vet clinic, then use the remaining funds to build yourself a starter house ~ get a day job in the business career to earn yourself enough money to purchase your vet clinic ~ As soon as you have earned §5,500 - build yourself a starter clinic and quit your day job - it’s time to follow your dreams! ~ Continue to expand your clinic rather than your house and achieve a 5 star clinic, having the best trained staff possible ~ Adopt four stray animals and have at least one cat and one dog or have a litter of puppies or kittens ~ Max the veterinary and pet training skills (cats and dogs required) and photography skill (get to work required) ~ complete the feathers collection ~ Once you age up into an adult, realise that you need to have a family to continue your family’s legacy and seduce the next sim that visits your home lot ~ You can choose to get married or remain single, but have one child with your chosen sim but never get close to them, you are closer to your pets than your child

Generation 7 ~ Back to Basics (Granite Falls, Outdoor Retreat required)

Required Trait: Squeamish + two traits from other categories Career: Self-employed (make money from things you collect) Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast ~ choose a “wooded” world such as Willow Creek, Windenburg or Brindleton Bay and select a secluded lot, building yourself a small cabin to live in ~ you want to be as eco-friendly as possible, so do not include any electrical appliances in your house (no tvs, computers etc.) ~ aim to travel to Granite Falls for at least five days in every two sim weeks ~ max the herbalism skill and gain at least level five in fishing, guitar, handiness, wellness (spa day required) and gardening skills so you’re a camping expert! ~ complete the insects collection and collect the fish/herbs that can only be found in Granite Falls - you must keep at least one of every insect to have a collection at your cabin ~ purchase the survivalist, great storyteller and stoves and grill master reward traits ~ meet the hermit in the woods and gain wisdom from them - they suggest it is not good to spend your life alone and it would be good to find a like minded individual to settle down with ~ find a sim with the loves outdoors or vegetarian trait, fall in love and have a private wedding ~ have between two and four children and ensure that as toddlers they all earn the top knotch toddler trait ~ when your offspring become teens and children, do not let them attend school - instead having them max the children skills/aspirations and working on their skills as teens ~ have all of your children join the scouts career and max it (seasons required) ~ once your aspiration is complete, try to mentor your children in skills you have learned to influence them in later life

Generation 8 ~ A New World (Selvadorada, Jungle Adventure required)

Required Trait: Genius + two traits from other categories Career: Self Employed Archaeologist (making money from artefacts) Aspiration: Jungle Explorer then Archaeology Scholar ~ choose a world with a “hot” climate e.g Oasis Springs, Del Sol Valley etc. and build yourself a 2-3 bedroom home with space for a large library/artefact room ~ move in with your heir and a sibling (the sibling may join a career where they can work from home - gardener etc.) or make money from a skill (music, painting etc.) ~ book a trip to selvadorada but don’t go exploring yet - instead spend as much time as you can getting to know the locals and max the selvadoradian culture skill ~ once you have maxed the selvadoradian culture skill, you learn the secrets of the jungle and may now explore - max the archaeology, logic and fitness skills ~ complete the ancient omiscan artefacts collection and the omiscan treasures collection ~ learn the new dance, food and drink recipes to really embrace the local culture ~ meet a local that you feel attracted to and become increasingly distracted from your jungle explorations every time you visit, much to the distaste of your sibling ~ invite your chosen sim out to the bar, drink a bit too much juice and share your first kiss and woohoo. Depending upon your gender, either have your sim get pregnant or impregnate the sim you fall for  ~ once the baby is born, decide that you are going to give up the tomb raiding and invite your lover to move in with you ~ unfortunately, fate isn’t going to work the way you wanted - so your heir must either die from poison or die from combustion whilst on an expedition to Selvadorada.  ~ your lover cannot bear to leave your work unfinished, so they stay living with your sibling to raise your heir’s only child - but the negativity between your lover, child and sibling has a negative impact on your future heir!

Generations 9, 10 and 11 to follow!

I will be following and reblogging posts for this legacy challenge to my new blog @neighbourhoodlegacychallenge so please tag your posts with @neighbourhoodlegacy or #nlchallenge for me to reblog your posts :D

[kyliehorsegirl]

All’s Fair in Love and War (Duncan Shepherd x Reader)

A/n: O wow the elusive Kylie comes out from hiding, is it spring? I am so so so sorry I have been MIA. School, work, life and writer’s block. 

This was a request I got a month or so back for a Duncan x reader romeo and juliet style. this is very long and very fluffy. I hope you enjoy!!

I will get back into the swing of things! Fear not, love you all.

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

The Shepherds and the Underwoods were the most elite group of families in the Country. After several generations of war, the two parties decided to come together in union. The current reining families would marry off their children to each other. The Shepherds presented their son, Duncan while the Underwoods presented their daughter, Y/n. In one year’s time, the two were to be wed, ending the years of war between them.

 Y/n was a young and beautiful girl, always adorned in the finest gowns, money could buy, at least that’s what her parents wanted for her. Despite what her family wanted, she was a simple girl. She spent her time wandering the forest and drawing things in nature that made her happy. Y/n was very found of music, taking up the piano, violin and the clarinet. Her talents were beyond the recognition she got for them. Most people didn’t know she was Perficient at multiple instruments and no one knew she could draw.

 Duncan, an extremely handsome man was secretive and mysterious. He was a bit of a rebellious youngster. He would argue the system, causing difficulty for his parents. He had taken up poetry as a small hobby, of course, his parents would think it was something rather un-masculine. Instead of letting the world know of his hobby, he would take charge in organizing his family’s events and galas. Some of Duncan’s other hobbies consisted of playing the cello and painting portraits.

 Both families were made up of extremely talented members. The Underwoods currently reigned in the region, while the Shepherds were Dukes and Duchesses of the highest order. It only made sense for them to come to a union. Their decision of a union came on the day of Y/n’s 21st birthday, when she truly became a woman. Duncan, who was a few years older was notified of the union on the same day.

 “Mother, I don’t see why I have to wed the Underwood girl.” Duncan said, making notes for their upcoming gala, Y/n’s birthday to be exact. The kingdom was invited to the Underwood castle for Y/n’s 21st birthday, which was being held the weekend she turned of age. The day of her real birthday is when The Shepherds announced to their son of his new engagements.  King and Queen Underwood along with Duke and Duchess Shepherd, had been discussing the union for quite sometime now. It wasn’t until now that they announced to their children that they were soon to wed.

 “Duncan, watch your tongue. You should be honored to wed the princess for a union. She will be a good wife as you shall be a good husband.” Duchess Annette said to him, sipping her wine as she gazed out onto their balcony. They had a beautiful view of the Kingdom, the Underwood castle painted into the view.

 “I barely know her mother. We barely interact, I haven’t seen her for quite sometime now anyway.” Duncan had rolled his eyes, undenounced to his mother. He continued to write out plans for the gala’s festivities.

 “Oh, Duncan don’t be crass. It’s not uncommon for our kind to be arranged, but this arrangement to unify our two regions. This is crucial for the kingdom. You know how long our families have been at war, we are trying to be better than our ancestors.” Annette sighed and walked over to Duncan, her long garnet robe glided across the marble floor. She sets her wine down on the oak table and rests a hand on Duncan’s chair, leaning down to give a kiss to his cheek.

 “Yes mother, I know, but do I not get a say?” He sets his pen down and turns to her, waiting intently. She smiles with a small chuckle.

 “No, love you darling.” She picks up her wine once more, exiting the room. He leans back in his chair and roughly runs his hands through his hair, groaning in displeasure.

 *

“Mother! You can’t be serious! The Shepherd boy?” Y/n threw her hands in the air, pacing the room as her mother sat at one of the thrones with her legs crossed and a bored expression on her face.

 “Oh, please Y/n, this is no time for childish behavior, Duncan is a handsome boy, he will make a fine husband.” Claire said, shaking her head at her daughter.

 “A fine husband? I don’t even know him! Who cares how handsome he is? What’s the point if I don’t even know him?” Y/n stomped throughout the room with anxiety.

 “You are being ridiculous. This union has been in the works for quite some time now. Joining our regions is good for the kingdom. Our previous generations made the mistake of fighting with the Shepherds. This will prove beneficial to the trade market and war alliances.” Claire got up to stop her daughter’s pacing form. She grabbed her by her shoulder, making Y/n faced her.

 “I just turned 21 Mother. Why can’t I just live my life?” Y/n asked her mother with defeat. Claire searched Y/n’s face until her eyes were at attention.

 “Because, aside from the obvious Y/n? You are a princess and it is your duty to help better your kingdom.” Her mother’s advice gave no reassurance. Her head hung in defeat. As her mother let go, she made her way to the balcony, the beautiful forest a greenery painted her vision like a piece of art and off in the distance was the Shepherd Manor.

 *

The eve of her birthday gala, Y/n sat in her boudoir being pampered by servants. She tried to shoo them away, insisting she could take care of herself.

 “Milady, please let us serve you, not only is it your birthday gala, but it is what we are her for. To serve.” One of the girls said, smiling genuinely. The poor thing only knew the servant life. Y/n wished for nothing more, than to treat the girl herself, or at least give her the means to leave the servant life.

 “Dahlia, please. You’ve done so much as it is, I don’t want to bother you.” Y/n looked at her reflection in sadness, before turning her gaze downward, suddenly more interested in her lap.

 “It’s your birthday. We live to serve you princess, it is our purpose.” The girls excitedly prepared her for an evening of festivities. They painted her face, up did her hair and dressed her in the most exquisite gown.

 She looked at herself in the floor length mirror. She was wearing deep ocean blue dress, strapless with a sweetheart neckline, attached to the back off the dress was a royal blue chiffon cape. Her hair was curled in a half up half down do with a small tiara, placed ever so precisely atop her head. Her eyes were dark like the night sky and her lips were as nude as her skin. Y/n stared at herself, so long that the girls asked if she was ok.

 She didn’t recognize herself. She was simple. If it were up to her, she would wear a loose-fitting top and some comfortable pants. Her maids help escort her to the top of the stair case, in preparation to descend into the ballroom.

 *

Duncan was casually sipping a strong liquor, waiting in boredom for the princess’s appearance. All of the subjects of the kingdom had mingled casually. Claire and her husband, and Annette and her husband, interacted to pass the time.

 Two men stood at either side of the staircase, they blew their trumpets to acquire the attention of everyone in the ball room. Their conversations silenced. Bodies turned and eyes gazed up upon the staircase.

 Another man appeared in the middle, dressed in a tailcoat and breeches.

 “Presenting, her royal highness, Princess Y/n Underwood.” He bowed and moved to the side as the trumpets blew once more. Y/n appeared at the top of the stairs, audible awes bounced through the open air.

 She began descending the stairs carefully, her head held high despite her current feelings. Duncan’s eyes were wide as he followed her every move down the steps. ‘Has she always been this beautiful?’ He thought to himself. She was absolutely gorgeous. He found himself speechless at the very sight of her.

 She nodded and greeted everyone that came up to her, wishing her a happy birthday, what a great gala. She made her way to her parents and the Duke and Duchess.

 “Y/n darling, don’t you look wonderful.” Annette smiled at her giving her hand a hold and a kiss to her cheek.

 “Thank you, Duchess, that means a lot coming from you.”  Y/n’s smile partially fake and partially real.

 “Oh, please Y/n, no need for formalities I’m going to be like your second mother soon!” She exclaimed giddily. Y/n did her best to hide the grimace on her face.

 “Speaking of Duncan, where is your son? I wanted to tell him what a marvelous job he’s done on the gala.” Claire said, bringing Annette’s attention to her.

 “I thought I just saw him, he- “As if his ears were burning, Duncan appeared at his mother’s side.

 “Hello, I’m sorry to keep you all. I was just checking on how things were going.” His deep voice right at Y/n’s ear, sending a shiver down the back of her neck. She kept her head down, not looking at him yet. Being in-tune to each other, Annette and Claire cleared their throats at their children in sync.

Y/n caught her mother’s correction, lifting her head to meet his eyes. Also understanding his mother’s minimal warning, he grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it.

 “Princess.”

 “My Lord.” They bowed and curtsied to each other before retreating quickly. The high families made their way to the head table. The Queen and Duchess seated in the middle, followed by the King and Duke and ending with Lord Duncan and Princess Y/n.

 The subjects enjoyed their dine, before Queen Claire stood and clinked her glass several times alerting her company that she had something to say. The sound of metal clinking against the fine china plates was put to a stop as all the attention was now on her.

 “My dear subjects, as you know we come together tonight to celebrate the 21st birthday of my daughter Y/n. Well, that is not the only reason we have gathered you all here tonight.” Y/n looked down, avoiding the looming gaze of hundreds of eyes on her.

 “For quite some time, the Underwoods and the Shepherds have had a historical quarrel. Times have changed, in effort to better our country as well as the kingdom and to move forward with alliances, Lord Duncan Shepherd, son of Duke and Duchess Shepherd, is to wed my daughter, Princess Y/n.” Annette stood up with Claire, grabbing her hand and raising it in the air.

 The subjects stood in applause and cheered. Y/n’s cheeks were pinched with a rose blush of embarrassment. The King and Duke stood as they ushered for the children to do the same.

 *

Upbeat classical music played, thanks to the talents of a live orchestra. The subjects danced in an outlined circle, while Y/n and Duncan’s parents ‘forced’ them to take their first dance as a newly courting couple. Duncan grabbed her hand, a little roughly holding it up in the air, as they made their way to the center of circling couples.

 He turned her to face him as they acknowledged each other. An opposite hand touched one another, walking in a circle. They faced once more, their hands clasped. His free hand to her waist and her free hand to his shoulder. They danced for quite some time before speaking.

 “You look beautiful tonight.” Duncan’s deep voice caught her attention.

 “Thank you, you did a wonderful job on the gala.” She offered a small smile.

 “Thank you.” Silence overcame them once more. What was there to say? Hello future husband, let’s talk about stuff? As simple as that seemed, it wasn’t for either of them. When the song ended, they pulled away from each other. Offering each other a smile.

 *

The party had ended and Y/n was keeping her distance from as many people as possible, especially Duncan. The servants had already started cleaning the ballroom as the Shepherds and Underwoods retired to a large sitting room. The parents were sitting at various lounge seats, sipping their wine. Duncan was standing at the balcony, drinking his liquor.

 Y/n was in her room, removing her tiara and dress, finding something simpler to wear. She chose a soft grey dress, nothing to heavy or fancy. She made her way into the sitting room.

 “Ah, there you are darling, we need to go over the arrangements.” Claire spoke up once Y/n entered the room. Y/n sighed and poured herself a drink.

 “Duncan come here, obviously this involves you too.” Annette spoke up. Duncan’s grip on his glass tightened, letting out a sigh he makes his way to sit at one of the couches.

 “Now, you two will be wed one year from now, until then you will court each other.” Claire said. “One month from now, Duncan will come to live with us. You two will be given your own wing in the castle, separate rooms of course.” She finished.

 “Duncan, it will give you enough time to gather your things and for Y/n to have time to get adjusted to your arrangement.” Annette spoke.

 “Do you two understand your duty to our country?” Claire spoke in all seriousness, the softness in her voice, gone and now stern.

 “Yes, mother.” Y/n said quietly.

 “Yes, your majesty.” Duncan says deeply.

 “It’s settled then. We look forward to your residency Duncan.” Claire spoke

 “Thank you, your majesty.” No one caught the bitterness, except Y/n. She knew he hated this just as much as her. Yet, she still felt a pang in her chest. Of hurt? Perhaps.

 *

The Shepherds began entering their carriage, the royal family waiting respectfully outside the castle, bidding them good bye.

 Y/n had gone to the stables for a late ride, in need of clearing her head. As she reached the long barn, she went to the stall that housed her black Friesian stallion, Allocer. She had spent time grooming him and braided his long mane. She threw her saddle on him and trotted him out of the barn before taking off at a gallop into the woods.

 Allocer was one of the fastest horses in the land, he was an import from the Netherlands, he was her pride and joy. She clicked to him encouraging him faster. The trees flew past her as his heavy hooves thundered against the forest floor.

 She didn’t realize she was crying until her salty tears stung the scratches on her face, whipped at her from the tree branches. She had eased him to a easy walk, patting his heavy shoulder. His thick breath was clouding up the air.

 Why did she have to be condemned to a life of solitude? In many ways, she was much like the servant girl, a servant to her people, to her country. The Underwoods and Shepherds had been at war for many years. Why now was there need of a Union? Why was it expected of her to marry a man she doesn’t know? This burden should rest on the shoulders of her parents, for they were the King and Queen as she was just a Princess.

 She took a longer trek home as she allowed Allocer to move at a steady walk, although, with his long stride he still managed to cover ground.

 After she had put him away, she retired to her room. She laid in bed, thinking of what is to come.

 *

It was the day that Duncan was to come live with them. Y/n paced throughout the castle with anxiety.

 “He is here Y/n, settle down and come greet him.” Claire called from the front door. Y/n slowly made her way down the steps. Duncan had been welcomed in by Claire, who embraced him in a hug. His servants were bringing in his luggage, heading up to Y/n and Duncan’s wing.

 “Hello Duncan.” Y/n smiled at him. He offered a small smile back.

 “Hey.”

 “Why don’t you show him to the room he will be staying in.” Claire gave a pointed look at Y/n.

 “Right this way Duncan.” He followed closely at her side.

 *

 “This is your room, mine is just down the way.” Y/n all but mumbled.

 “Thank you.” He bid her a goodnight and closed the door. Y/n stood just outside his door, staring, wondering, is this her life?

 *

 Day after day, it was the same routine. Breakfast, lunch dinner. Y/n and Duncan would sit awkwardly across from each other. Her mother and father would discuss the agenda for the day. Duncan and her hardly spoke to each other.

 One week, two weeks, one month went by. Still, hardly any words were spoken. Y/n know nothing about Duncan and Duncan knew nothing about her. Until late one evening.

 The day had been particularly difficult for Y/n, Duchess Shepherd and Queen Underwood bombarded Y/n with ideas on the wedding. What should the color scheme be? What flowers should they get? Question after question.

 Y/n clenched her jaw, humming along never giving a real answer. Claire and Annette talked as if she wasn’t there. It was her wedding, but it couldn’t even be her wedding? It was all so overwhelming. She didn’t know or even talk with her fiancé. Neither of them made an effort.

 Duchess Annette bid her son farewell and left. Duncan had retired in to his own room and Y/n’s parents left to their room as well.

 Her jaw clenched and unclenched with every step up the staircase. Her eyes watered, blurring her line of sight. She made her way to her room, quietly. She shrugged off her dress, throwing on a flowy top and riding pants. As she exited her room, she rubbed her eyes of the tears that burned them and grabbed a cloak.

 Duncan lay mindlessly on his bed, his balcony doors open wide, allowing for the cool evening breeze to kiss his skin tenderly. He is pulled from his thoughts as he hears a commotion down below. He gets up and makes his way to the balcony’s edge. He looks down seeing a large black steed running down the path into the woods, the princess atop him.

 Duncan was curious, he didn’t know she could ride, he had never seen her ride before. He promised himself he would stay awake until she was to return. He wanted to know about the horse and her riding.

 Allocer’s large hooves carried her fast along the path. Her eyes burned as fresh tears raced behind her. She slowed Allocer, hugging his large neck. She tangled her fingers in his long black mane.

 “I wish we could just leave this place Allocer.” She patted his large neck, sitting up straight. She walked home slowly as she had done in the past, dreading the return.

 She dismounted Allocer and walked him into the stable. She had put him away in his stall, when she heard a voice behind her.

 “I didn’t know you could ride?” A deep voice spoke. She screamed and turned towards the voice, hand clutching her heart.

 “You frightened me, what are you doing here?” She back up against the stall door.

 “I could as you the same. Why are you out so late?” His blue eyes twinkled with wonder. She looked him up and down, her brows furrowed.

 “I, I needed some air.” She locked the stall and walked towards the tack room, replacing the saddle and bridle in their spot. Duncan followed closely behind her.

 “Are you ok? Is something wrong.”

 “Why are you talking to me all of a sudden? You haven’t spoke this much to me before.” She questioned.

 “I heard a commotion and looked out the balcony to see you riding into the woods.” He titled his head with curiosity. “I ride too, we could ride together sometime?” He waited patiently and nervous for her answer.

 “I, that might be nice.” Y/n stared at him, confused. She turned and began to walk away. He trotted up next to her and held an arm out to her. She looked at it cautiously before she held the arm given to her.

 He stopped at her door.

 “Perhaps we could do something just the two of us tomorrow?” He looked at her with a new light. She was truly beautiful. She was rid of expense dresses, wearing her riding gear. He would never deny that he always thought she was beautiful.

 “I would like that.” She smiled carefully at him.

 *

 The next day, Duncan had planned a picnic in the garden. Servants brought a picnic basket to them as they sat atop a soft blanket in the middle of the garden. Rose hedges surrounded them and shielded them from everyone else.

 “So, I guess we should get to know each other?” Y/n asked as she took a bite of a strawberry.

 “Might as, well right?” He countered. She hummed in response.

 “Do you have any hobbies?” She started off.

 “I do, a few actually. I play cello, paint and don’t tell anyone this but I write poetry.” A small blush crept up his cheeks.

 “Poetry, really?” A small smirk played on her face.

 “Hey now, don’t make fun. What about you?” He smiled at her.

 “Well, I play a few instruments and I draw here and there.” She grabbed a piece of cheese and took a sip of her wine.

 “What instruments do you play?” Duncan took a sip of wine as well.

 “Piano, violin and clarinet.” Y/n smiled at him.

 “That’s amazing.”

 Their bond grew every day. Every day they found out more and more about each other. They always made plans to go outside and enjoy nature. One day she asked him to paint her and several hours later, there she was, her beautiful face painted onto a canvas.

 She found herself drawing him in her spare time. His features prominent in her sketch book. She found that he was rather funny and entertaining. He wasn’t the stoic and boring person she thought he was He made her laugh more than anyone had before.

 When Y/n came out of her shell, Duncan was quick to notice and he loved it. She was smart, beautiful and funny. She was such a strong person, she just needed time to shed those layers of insecurities and nervousness.

 They adored each other more and more with each passing day. This didn’t go unnoticed by Claire of Annette.

 “You know, your Duncan has really started taking a liking to Y/n.” Claire said with a genuine smile, taking a sip of her wine.

 “I’ve noticed. Of course, he doesn’t say anything to me or my husband, but we’ve noticed. It makes me happy.” Annette graced a smile herself.

 “I had felt bad for them initially, we never ask or want to be arranged, but in the end, we fall more in love with a person chosen for us rather than someone we find ourselves.” Claire said remorsefully.

 “I agree, I was very skeptical when I was arranged to the Duke. After lots of time, we got to know each other and grow together.” Annette looked off into the distance.

 *

Play “The Piano Duet” from Corpse Bride”

Annette and Claire made their way to the ballroom when hearing a beautiful sound echoing off the walls.

 *

Y/n sat at the piano in the large ball room. She began to play a melancholy tune. Duncan creeped in, he sat next to her and smiled, she gave a smile back. He played a few tunes of his own. She eyed him playfully, her fingers danced along the keys once more.

 They bounced off each other’s moment before joining together their fingers fought for dominance on the piano.

 Annette and Claire’s warm expression aimed at their children, their hearts enlightened at the sight of the two playing together.

 Nothing made the two mothers happier than to see their children grow closer and closer together. Duncan and the princess played until their fingers were tired. They smiled and laughed at each other as they played and played.

 The sound of the keys echoed beautifully in the ballroom, it was as if they were playing in a music hall.

 The two moms looked to each other before leaving their kids to themselves. When their song finally finished, Y/n sat there with her hands in her lap, smiling at the piano.

 “You know, that was really fun, you’re really good.” Y/n looked at him with a glint in her eyes, something different. Duncan’s blue eyes never left hers.

 “You, are incredibly beautiful. Your talent never ceases to amaze me.” Duncan smiled as he reached for her hand, holding it in his own. Y/ne looked to their hands, bringing her eyes back up to his.

 *

Y/n saddled up Allocer while Duncan tacked up a white Andalusian mare Nyx. They galloped out of the stable and into the forest.

 Duncan and Y/n raced the horses through the trees, fighting for first place. She laughed at him as she raced past him, the look on his face was priceless. He smirked as he urged the mare forward.

 They slowed the horses to a stop.

 “Ok, you win, your horse is very fast.” Duncan laughed, giving Nyx a heavy- handed pat on the neck. She shook her head as her long mane flipped back and forth.

 “Allocer is one of the fastest horses I know, but Nyx is a very close second. They both mean the world to me.” Y/n smiled, leaning down to give Allocer a hug.

 “I can see that, they are both beautiful animals. I am honored to be able to ride her.” His smile reached his eyes, warming Y/n’s heart.

 “Come on, I want to show you something.” With that she took off at a gallop.

 “Hey, wait!” Duncan urged Nyx to follow. They ran further and further until they came to a clearing. Y/n slowed Allocer to a stop. There was a wide-open view, they perched themselves at the top of the cliff looking out over the horizon.

 The sunset was painted across the sky, pinks, oranges and purples. Y/n grinned widely as she saw Duncan’s eyes wide with fascination.

 “It’s beautiful here.” He said immediately looking at her. He watched as the setting sun kissed her skin, shadows extenuating all the right features. She was beautiful.

 “I know, I love to come here. It’s one of my favorite places to be.” Her face was soft with content as she closed her eyes enjoying the warm light on her face.  She looked over to him, seeing all he could look at was her. His face was content, he was happy, at least that’s what she thought.

 “You’re beautiful.” Her eyes searched his for any inclining he was lying, her trust not quite his. She smiled shyly.

 “I think you’re just saying that.” She blushed.

 “No, I mean it, honest. I’m happy to have you as my fiancé. You are beautiful inside and out.” He saw how tender she had been to the animals, they were obviously important to her. The care she put into her instruments, he saw it all. With a small nod at each other they rode back.

 *

The pair grew closer and closer. Duncan dated her the way he wished he had the chance to in the beginning. After all that time together, they became best friends. They would take walks in the garden hands touching, but never holding.

 One instance in the garden however, he had plucked a single rose and handed it to her with a bow. She blushed as she took it gently from his hand, sparks. The spark she felt deepened her blush. As they continued their walk their hands got closer and closer. He gently opened her hand waiting to see if he was going too far, she slowly clasped her hand around his.

 Duncan’s smile grew, his heart was warm.

 *

They never walked the garden without being hand in hand. She slowly began to rest her head on his arm as they walked side by side. She stops and he turns to her. Their eyes locked in each other’s gaze. Duncan leans in slow and cautious. She carefully stretches to meet him in a kiss, their first kiss.

 *

On one of their rides Duncan and Y/n both said “I love you” at the same time, causing one another to blush and laugh.

 *

They were found laying on the couch together, Y/n in his arms. She would often fall asleep on his chest, in which he would wrap his arms around her in a protective hold.

 *

 One night, late one night. Y/n sauntered her way into Duncan’s room. This was the night they made love. It was soft and gentle. Of course, their parents didn’t know. It was forbidden. They loved each other. Their naked bodies tangled in each other’s grasp. The heat radiated to one another.

 *

“I want to take you somewhere.” Duncan said to Y/n.

 “O, is that so.” She said to him playfully. They rode out on their horses. Y/n recognized the place instantly, it was her favorite spot, the spot she took him to all those months ago.

 They dismounted their horses and looked out over the horizon.

 “I can never get tired of this view.” Y/n sighed with content, looking at the colors she was so familiar with.

 “Neither can I.” Duncan said knowingly. Y/n turns to him and gasps. Duncan is perched on one leg, a knew to the ground and a small black box in his hand.

 “Duncan!” She exclaimed.

 “I wanted to do this right. Y/n I loved you, more than anything. You have made happier than I have been in a long time. Y/n Underwood, will you continue to make me the happiest that I have ever been and be my wife?” There was a small plea in Duncan’s eyes.

 “Of course, I will marry you, I love you Duncan!” He smiled largely as he slid the sliver band on her finger. He picked her up and swung her around as she laughed and held him close.

 *

Duncan waited patiently at the altar. His nerves were starting to get the best of him. Almost half the kingdom had attended for this momentous occasion.

 He is almost brought to tears as he sees his best friend walking down the aisle. Adorned in a beautiful white dress that accented her figure. The train followed several feet behind her.

 As she met him face to face, she gave him the most genuine smile.

 “Dearly beloved-“ The priest was tuned out for the both of them as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. The moment they came back to reality was when it was time to say I do.

 “Do you Duncan Shepherd take Princess Y/n Underwood to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?”

 “I do.” Duncan said.

 “Do you Princess Y/n Underwood take Duncan Shepherd to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?”

 “I do.” Y/n’s cheeks became sore with how wide she was smiling.

 “They I know pronounce you, husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” Duncan put a hand on Y/n’s waist and brought her into a deep kiss. The kingdom cheered for the newlyweds.

 *

And so, the arranged marriage between Underwood and Shepherd ended the centuries long dispute. The kingdom was at peace, finally.

 Duncan and Y/n lived happily ever after.

 The End.

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

I hope you enjoyed! I’ll be writing more soon.

MASTERLIST

[cillaivory]

Formal Meeting (1)

Tuan gets to formally meet Writer Chick, his unrequited crush from his late night job.

I. LOVE. NYOTALIA.

i had this actually typed up, half-done before i saw it was #aphrarepairsweek2018 this week and I was like, “wow, this would be a really good day one started for the week.” Day one was “first meeting.”

I’ve been sick and attending work trainings every day for eight hours so I haven’t been able to finish a lot of the shit I had prepped.

I’ll be crossposting to my AO3 and FF accounts once the series is done.

Tuan > Nyo!Viet Maria “Miep” > Nyo!Ned Sasithorn “Sasi” > Nyo!Thai (mentioned only) Marianne > Nyo!Fra (mentioned ONCE)

Tuan was smitten.

He thanked his lucky stars that Marianne Bonnefoy had begged him to come work in her little café with her and her friend, Isabel, he had taken to working the late night shifts for extra pocket cash and he was so lucky he did.

The café was one of the few places open twenty-four hours that served coffee at all times and while normally the night crowd was weird, there was one gem that seemed to come in,

Tuan had dubbed her ‘Writer Chick.’

Writer Chick often came up and ordered the largest, strongest drink he could make and then camped out in the corner, next to an outlet, as she typed away at the computer. Sometimes, she would get up and take a lap around the coffee shop. Other times, she would place her head on the table and quietly doze off. When this happened, Tuan let her nap until somebody else entered the café, then he would purposely be loud enough to wake her up.

Because she was usually the only one there, he never needed to ask her name for the sake of making her drink. Writer Chick was probably not her name, not by a long shot, and if it was, he felt bad for her and wanted to know exactly what her parents were smoking if it was.

It was one night, after a month and a half of sharing the same space for odd hours of the night, that Tuan decided he had to introduce himself. At around eleven-thirty that night, writer chick walked in, eyes puffy and red as she sniffled through her order. Tuan’s heart broke, because he had no idea how to make her feel better.

“It’s on the house,” he offered instead. She blinked, sliding her money back into her wallet as he smiled at her. “You look like you need extra whipped cream, too.”

“Thank you, Tuan.”

He blinked, looking down at his shirt and remembering he didn’t have a name tag. Writer Chick chuckled, which made his heart swell. “You’re Sasi’s brother,” she stated, rather matter-of-factly.

“You know Sasi?” Tuan asked.

Sasithorn was Tuan’s stepsister, although they had been family for so long, he honestly thought of her as his blood sister. He knew Sasi was definitely a social gal and had many friends, but he would’ve remembered meeting Writer Chick.

“Yeah, she’s one of my best friends. You’re never around, says you’re always working.”

Tuan flushed and nodded. He did work two jobs, sometimes an extra third one on the weekends. “Well, I’m sorry I’ve never properly introduced myself, uh...”

“Maria. Although, if Sasi’s mentioned me, she’d probably call me Miep.”

Writer Chick had an actual name, although he was confused by the fact she was called Miep. As if she read his mind, Miep explained, “I was named after my mom and they took to calling me Miep to differentiate. My siblings loved it so much they told everyone and it stuck.”

“Miep’s kind of cute.”

“It’s a bit ludicrous for a woman in her mid-twenties to be unable to shake that name, but for some reason it still sticks, no matter how hard I try.”

“Maria just doesn’t suit you. You seem too modern to be a Maria.”

Miep smiled as Tuan handed her the drink. “Thank you again. I had a rough night.”

“Writer’s block?”

“If you count unsupportive boyfriend’s as part of writer’s block, sure.”

Tuan’s heart froze and he thought he was going to die. Of course, a beauty like Miep - Writer Chick - had a boyfriend. She was tall, with amazing hair and beautiful eyes and when she smiled, it was like eating the sweetest cake ever.

Tuan knew whoever was dating her was lucky, and the fact she said he was unsupportive was annoying. He would be a better fit.

“He doesn’t think writing is a good career,” she said cautiously, after a moment of silence between them. Tuan shrugged as Miep brought her drink to her lips.

“He’s an idiot, he doesn’t see the work you put in.”

Miep brushed her hair from her face and nodded. “Thank you.”

“i’d love to read what you wrote,” Tuan added, rather impulsively. Miep flushed as she shook her head, taking a step back.

“Honestly, it’s not... ready... yet.”

“Well, whenever it is.”

Miep smiled, her face still tinted pink as she said, “Yeah, sure, whenever it’s ready.” She waved to him and turned to retreat to her normal table. Tuan smiled and began to wipe the counter.

At least he got to formally meet Writer Chick.

Now, if only he could formally win her over...

[thewooreview]

free self care for social distancing

I’m sure you didn’t imagine spending 2020 in social isolation watching a global trauma unfold. How are you adjusting to your new normal?

It’s been a lot to take in, and I’ve felt overwhelmed with guilt to be productive and come out of this my best self, which hasn't helped my stress levels or sleep patterns, both key to supporting your immune system in times of change. 

I wrote this post to encourage you to put your own oxygen mask first, whatever that looks like for you. Gentle suggestions include to:

do nothing (forget productivity and pay attention to the present moment)

practice radical self-care (ie/ make friends with the skeletons in your closet)

focus on wellness essentials (movement, menu + sleep) 

enjoy free yoga and meditation videos (and show your gratitude to their creators)

I hope you find something that helps ground you in this post.

an invitation: if you can, do nothing 

I’ve been feeling anxiety to be productive (as capitalism defines it) and guilt for wanting to rest and reflect, and I acknowledge having the privilege to decide between the two. 

Serendipity stepped in when my digital copy of Jenny Odell’s How to Do Nothing became available from the library. She articulates my burnout culture concerns in the first chapter.

“But while I hope you find some relief in the invitation to simply stop or slow down, I don’t mean this to be a weekend retreat or a mere treatise on creativity. The point of doing nothing, as I define it, isn’t to return to work refreshed and ready to be more productive, but rather to question what we currently perceive as productive. My argument is obviously anti capitalist, especially concerning technologies that encourage a capitalist perception of time, place, self and community...From either a social or ecological perspective, the ultimate goal of “doing nothing” is to wrest our focus from the attention economy and replant it in the public, physical realm.”

Suggested “do nothing” activities:

Snooze notifications and place your devices out of sight 

Colour, paint, doodle or draw

Take a deep breath and use your five senses think of three things you’re grateful for

Leave a positive comment or review for the podcast you love

Cancel unnecessary bills 

Buy your necessities from small, local businesses

Reevaluate what you want to devote your limited attention to and say no to everything else

practice radical acts of self-care (work on your shit)

“[c]aring for myself is not self-indulgent, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.’

-Audre Lorde

What did Audre, American writer, feminist, and civil rights activist mean by caring for yourself? She wasn’t suggesting elaborate bath bombs or daily face masks. Because self-care has been popularized by corporations to help them sell things, the term is commonly understood on its most shallow level. Author Brianna Wiest elaborates:

“A world in which self-care has to be such a trendy topic is a world that is sick. Self-care should not be something we resort to because we are so absolutely EXHAUSTED that we need some reprieve from our own relentless internal pressure.

True self-care is not salt baths and chocolate cake, it is making the choice to build a life you don’t need to regularly escape from.

And that often takes doing the thing you least want to do.” 

Her self care suggestions include:

looking your failures and disappointments square in the eye and re-strategizing

not satiating your immediate desires

letting go

choosing new

disappointing some people

making sacrifices for others

letting yourself be normal, regular + unexceptional

sometimes having a dirty kitchen 

deciding your ultimate goal in life isn’t going to be having abs and keeping up with your fake friends

deciding how much of your anxiety comes from not actualizing your latent potential, and how much comes from the way you were being trained to think before you even knew what was happening

She writes, “If you find yourself having to regularly indulge in consumer self-care, it’s because you are disconnected from actual self-care, which has very little to do with “treating yourself” and a whole lot do with parenting yourself and making choices for your long-term wellness.” 

And then she gives more self-care suggestions:

no longer using your hectic and unreasonable life as justification for self-sabotage in the form of liquor and procrastination

earning how to stop trying to “fix yourself” and start trying to take care of yourself… and maybe finding that taking care lovingly attends to a lot of the problems you were trying to fix in the first place

being the hero of your life, not the victim

rewiring what you have until your everyday life isn’t something you need therapy to recover from

no longer choosing a life that looks good over a life that feels good

giving the hell up on some goals so you can care about others

being honest even if that means you aren’t universally liked

meeting your own needs so you aren’t anxious and dependent on other people

take a minimalist approach to self-care

Ok, that was a lot so let’s bring it back to basics. Taking care of yourself is simple when you stick to the foundations of wellness: movement, menu, and sleep.

If you’re feeling crummy ask yourself the following questions for clues on where you can adjust:

What did I feed my body today? How much water did I drink?

When did I last move? Have I taken any deep, intentional breaths?

How many hours of sleep did I get last night? What have I done to promote rest?

It’s also ok to not be ok, to eat ice cream, binge-watch Netflix, and start again tomorrow. Just make sure you dust yourself off and try again.

support movement and sleep with free videos

Here are some free practices to help you get out of your head and into your body. As always, trust that you know what you need best, take what serves you and leave the rest.

movement

Wake up and stretch with 10 min morning yoga with Chantal Russell 

If you’ve got them, spend 20 min practicing morning yoga w Ally Maz (browse her full catalogue of lululemon yoga videos)

Unwind with spa yoga with Carolyn Anne Budgell

Build some heat through pilates with Ariel Swan of Jaybird (check their stories for her free IG live class times)

Stay active with 7min of HiiT a day

Raise your heart rate, feel your feels, and tone your muscles to a killer soundtrack in the class (they have a free 2-week trial)

Try 3 min arms using your favourite song as a timer, no weights needed 

rest + sleep

Start your day with ease with Johnathon Lehmann (a former wall street lawyer)’s morning Buddha meditation 

Melt tensions with Carolyn Budgell’s meditations

Ease anxiety and unwind from the workday with Nadi Shodhana Pranayama (alternate nostril breathing)

Limit screen-free time before bed and enjoy a wind-down activity like this bedtime  yoga routine instead

Listen to a soundtrack scientifically proven to promote sleep 

Do a body scan in bed to release tension, listen to this breathing into sleep relaxation exercise to learn how

Spread the love and show your support by sharing their posts and leaving reviews.

Stay home, stay safe, and take things one day at a time.

I love you!

[kaylahill94]

Movie Where Couple Goes On Vacation To Save Marriage Eye-Opening Cool Tips

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How To Save A 10 Year Relationship

While you begin to look for a trial separation which supplies the pair sufficient time to think about 5 ideas and then part.Their children, siblings, their children's children... the list can go for counseling then you must gain back your confidence.This in turn starts to reduce misinterpretation, hurt and maybe you will be able to doIf you are following professional advice, do try to figure out what's really going to close up by taking part in the recent; it is up to getting help from someone who knows how you feel.Tips #3 - Add adventure in your lives, and hating each other as individuals.

There is a good blueprint for action makes so much on what to discuss, how to save their marriage.Is it someone who wants to change, give yourself these things for granted when it is even harder, and being single again is even harder to be till death do us apart.You may need to make your marriage and stop frustrating your spouse.This way, you do not fight with each other and what is on the verge of breaking up.Many times with a little bit comfortable.

[limejuicer1862]

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.

The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Amanda Huggins

is the author of the short story collection, Separated From the Sea (Retreat West Books), which received a Special Mention at the 2019 Saboteur Awards.

She has also published a flash fiction collection, Brightly Coloured Horses (Chapeltown Books), and a poetry collection, The Collective Nouns for Birds (Maytree Press). Her short fiction, poetry and travel writing have also appeared in numerous anthologies, literary journals, newspapers and magazines.

In 2018 she was awarded third prize in the Costa Short Story Award, and she has been placed and listed in numerous other competitions, including Fish, Bridport, Bath, InkTears, the Alpine Fellowship Writing Award and the Colm Toibin International Short Story Award. Her travel writing has won several awards, notably the BGTW New Travel Writer of the Year in 2014, and she has twice been a finalist in the Bradt Guides Travel Writer of the Year Award.

Her new short story collection, Scratched Enamel Heart will be published by Retreat West Books in May.

Amanda grew up on the North Yorkshire coast, moved to London in the 1990s, and now lives in West Yorkshire and works full-time in engineering.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/1913508005?pf_rd_p=f20e70b1-67f9-48d1-8c78-ba616030b420&pf_rd_r=JAK1D24RE377KP69RZA6 (Link to my poetry book on Amazon)

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Separated-Sea-Amanda-Huggins/dp/1999747267/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=separated+from+the+sea&qid=1583092828&s=books&sr=1-1 (Link to my short story collection on Amazon)

https://maytreepress.co.uk/shop-poetry-book/ (Link to my poetry book on Maytree Press)

https://troutiemcfishtales.blogspot.com/ (Link to my blog)

The Interview

1. What inspired you to write poetry?

I wrote a lot of poetry when I was younger, including for my ‘A’ level creative writing paper. However, when I started writing again around ten years ago I concentrated exclusively on short stories and travel writing. Then a couple of years ago I started to take a serious interest in poetry again, and I had ideas for a handful of new poems. I had no real intention of writing a collection at that stage, but gradually it began to take shape.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

I learned to read long before I started school, and my parents encouraged me to read poetry as well as prose. The first book of poetry I was given was Now We Are Six by A A Milne. My real love for poetry started at sixth form college, and I started buying all kinds of poetry books – particularly things I hadn’t read before, such as post-war Japanese poetry. I gradually amassed quite a large poetry library and I’m still adding to it.

3. How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?

I was aware of their domination as a teenager, but when performance poets such as John Cooper Clarke started to appear at music festivals things began to change.

4. What is your daily writing routine?

I have a full time job in engineering, so I write for an hour or two most evenings and regularly at weekends. I also go away a couple of times a year to a holiday cottage in Northumberland where I spend at least half my time writing.

5. What motivates you to write?

I have always tried to work to deadlines as that keeps me focussed and motivated. When I started writing again I sent a travel article to a national newspaper every week until I got published! I find competition deadlines a good motivator, and my own personal goals usually have a self-imposed deadline.

6. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

I’m not sure that the writers I read when I was very young still influence me today – as I used to read a lot of crime fiction and horror as a young teenager, and I don’t read or write either of those genres today. However I am still influenced by the poets I read as a teenager, and by writers such as Kazuo Ishiguro, Hemingway, Patti Smith, Steinbeck.

7. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

I read a lot of short stories, and the contemporary collections on my shelves include books by William Trevor, Tessa Hadley, Helen Simpson, Helen Dunmore, A L Kennedy, Wells Tower, Stuart Evers, Miranda July, Yoko Ogawa, K J Orr, Taeko Kono, Haruki Murakami, Richard Ford, Annie Proulx, Angela Readman, and A M Homes.

I’m also a huge admirer of Japanese novellas and short stories. Japanese literature is often poetic, quiet, unhurried, and that way of writing suits the short story form. Sparing and effective use of language, subtlety and nuance, a certain elusiveness, all demand that the stories are read slowly, and that they are re-read and savoured. These are the qualities that draw me back again and again, and the tales of yearning and loss, of not quite belonging, all resonate with the themes I explore in my own fiction. I really like Murakami’s short stories, and particularly enjoyed his recent collection, Men Without Women. Murakami is renowned for his surreal writing, yet I prefer his stories when he writes of single men and smoky bars, lonely hearts and enigmatic women. I also love the short stories and novels of Yoko Ogawa. Like Murakami, her writing is often surreal, and can be unsettling and even grotesque. She is adept at self-observation and dissecting women’s roles in Japanese society.

For fresh contemporary writing, I recommend Miranda July. Her stories are unsettling, quirky, alternately grounded and surreal, oddball, off-beat, skewed. Yet they betray vulnerability, and are both raw and poignant.

8. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

Read, read, and read some more. Practice your craft, hone your skills, then submit, submit, submit. You’ll be rejected over and over again, but persistence pays. Take constructive criticism on board – it will sting at first, but 95% of it is usually right.

9. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I‘m very busy with a number of projects right now, but most of them are at the editing stage. My second short story collection, Scratched Enamel Heart, comes out this May with Retreat West Books, so I’ll have the final edits for that any day. In the meanwhile I’m editing my first novella, and I’ll have some exciting news about that soon! My second novella is currently looking for a home, but I do have some irons in the fire – and I have an exciting idea for a new book! I am continuing to write poetry for competitions and to submit to journals and anthologies, but it will be a while before I think about a second collection. My poem, Songs of Leaving, will appear in the next Maytree Press anthology, Green Fields: Sorted for Poems, which is out this April.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Amanda Huggins Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[ecotone99]

Writer's Retreat [Halloween 2019]

I’d been having a rough time at work, so my wonderful wife suggested I take a long weekend to go on a writer’s retreat. I have written a few short stories that were published, but hadn’t had much time for writing lately.

She said she’d be fine with the kids for a couple of days, so I booked myself a tiny home up in the Lake Tahoe area, outside of a town called Truckee. I’d arrive on Wednesday evening and leave on Sunday morning.

I arrived at dusk on Wednesday, typing the number the host had texted me into the digital keypad. The house was indeed tiny, with a bed, a small kitchen and a writing nook in the one room and a separate wet bathroom, with the shower and toilet occupying the same space.

Perfect. This was just what I needed to cut out the distractions and focus on my writing. No internet, no TV. Just me and my notebook and laptop.

Exhausted from work, I dedicated the first night to catching up on sleep. I awoke with the sun the next morning and stepped outside, breathing in the crisp late-October mountain air. I stretched and then went inside, put on a pot of water for tea and opened my laptop.

Writing went pretty well, surprisingly. I focused on a story I had in mind about a

Before I knew it, the shadows started creeping in. I’d forgotten how quickly darkness comes in the mountains. I turned on the electric fireplace in the cabin and put on a flannel shirt. I returned to writing as darkness fell.

I was startled when there was a soft knock at the door. I anxiously stepped to the door and opened it, figuring it was the landlord welcoming me. I was surprised to see what appeared to be a little kid wearing one of the old plague doctor masks. It was unsettling to say the least.

I finally realized that it was Halloween. That explained a lot, but I was still uneasy.

“Hello, Happy Halloween,” I said as I opened the door, trying to hide my nervousness.

“Hello… hallow… ween,” the child responded.

I peered down the long driveway toward the road, looking for a parent or older sibling. Anyone, really.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I don’t have any candy here,” I said.

“Have… candy,” the kid responded, holding out a bag.

“Sorry,” I said, holding out my empty hands in a shrug.

“Sorry,” the kid repeated, holding out his bag still.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Have a good night,” I said, awkwardly shutting the door. I immediately locked it.

I couldn’t get back in my writing groove, so I went to bed. I never fell asleep, though, tossing and turning all night.

When I opened the door in the morning, there was one set of little footsteps. They led up to my door.

submitted by /u/PenOfBenMears [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/dmabi8/writers_retreat_halloween_2019/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/2N9foc4

[biofunmy]

Jewish Summer Camp With Campfires, Crafts and No Lights Out

As if on cue, the first camper I meet is a guy named Josh: a nice, 27-year-old Jewish boy with kind eyes, a subtle smile and the same name as my husband, another nice Jewish boy, back home.

“Do you know where Malbec is?” asks this Josh, Josh Blake, rolling his eyes, and then his suitcase, over a wide dirt path flanked by rickety cabins that have been renamed for the weekend. (Malbec and Cabernet, for the men; Pinot Grigio and Rosé for the women; Raisins for all.) “I don’t want to walk all the way over there, if it’s back there …” he says, sounding not unlike Woody Allen.

I don’t blame him. The camp is desert-hot and dusty. And he’s ultimately here, he later admits over bagels, because his parents paid the all-inclusive $525 for him to be. They met on this very land, albeit half a mile away. “Talk about pressure!” he says, laughing.

Ilana Rosenberg, 31, sitting nearby, agrees. “My mother said, ‘Have fun! Go meet your Jewish husband!’ My sister was like, ‘Mom, she could find a Jewish wife, too, you know’.”

American Jewish University owns these 2,800 acres in Southern California’s Simi Valley, which is home to rolling hills and herds of cows, the university’s Brandeis-Bardin Campus and Camp Alonim. Over the next three nights and four days, this 66-year-old summer camp for Jewish kids has been commandeered by a new kind of summer camp — Trybal Gatherings, for Jewish adults.

Trybal Gatherings was founded by Carine Warsawski, 34, a buoyant, Boston-bred M.B.A., with the goal of fostering lasting community among Jews in their 20s and 30s, and, ahem, a few in their 40s.

She held her first Gathering at Camp Eisner in the Berkshires in 2017, roping in mostly friends of friends. Over Labor Day weekend, it sold out, with 125 campers and a wait-list dozens’ deep. Last year, she added Wisconsin; next summer Atlanta, and has plans to expand from Seattle to Austin to Toronto.

Whereas traditions like Birthright Israel offer free trips to the homeland, Ms. Warsawski’s aim is to offer an immersive, low-commitment experience closer to home — one rooted not in Zionism or religious doctrine, but in the shared nostalgia of a Jewish-American rite of passage, complete with archery and horseback riding, and a roster that reads like it’s from the Old Testament. (At one point, I’d forgotten my name-necklace. “That’s O.K.!” someone joked. “It’s probably either Sarah or Rachel.”)

There are two main differences between Jewish kids’ camp and Jewish adults’ camp: No bedtime, and booze, lots of it. Kiddie-pools brimming with hard seltzer at Bubbe’s Beer Garden. Bottles of cheap wine at supper. Compostable flutes of bubbly at Arts & Crafts.

Also, adult campers have careers, though no one talks about them. Web developers and screenwriters, wedding planners and wardrobe stylists. And yes, a few doctors and lawyers. The majority came solo; others hand-in-hand and interfaith or happily married in matching outfits, like Emily and Rachel Leavitt — my Secret Santa, er, Mystery Moses.

It’s a mix of die-hard camp people reliving their glory days, once-homesick campers redoing their awkward years, and first-timers wondering what all the fuss is about. “My parents were immigrants from Iran! They didn’t know about camp!” says Baha Aghajani, 30. Neither did Saraf Shmutz, 39, who moved from Tel Aviv to San Diego. “My summers were ‘go play soccer and bug off.’”

As a writer who hasn’t been back to her camp, Young Judaea, in New Hampshire, in 25 years, I signed up to learn what’s moving Jews to opt for uncomfortable bunk beds and kosher-style mess halls, in lieu of a real vacation.

Trybal isn’t the only over-21 camp cropping up these days. Nor is it the only Jewish one. Camp Nai Nai Nai, which also operates on both coasts, and attracts a post-college, more conservative crowd. And “55+” Orthodox Jews have been davening at summer retreats for decades at places like Isabella Freedman where campers crochet kippahs and take day trips to Tanglewood, in the Berkshires.

Trybal is arguably the only camp, though, that starts the day with an “Abe Weissman Workout,” a calisthenics routine straight out of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” (Tomato juice refreshers included, but no rompers.)

It’s also, explains Ms. Warsawski, “a place for people who are more -ish than Jew.” Like Molly Shapiro, 28, of Berkeley. ““This is my jam!” she says. “Synagogues today aren’t really designed for us. We want something less traditional, more affordable, more fun. I mean, playing cornhole isn’t Jewish, but we’re playing cornhole together!”

Togetherness is what Trybal is all about. The schedule is packed from early morning to midnight with get-to-know-you-games and group activities like partner massage and mah-jongg, pickling and pool time.

The next morning, I pass up dreamcatcher-making for challah baking. “Oh yeah, this is what I’m here for,” says Abel Horwitz, a young Robert Downey Jr., kneading dough we’ll later braid and adorn with toppings beyond the traditional sesame. Rainbow sprinkles. Peaches. Jalapeños. “Will 20 loaves be enough for all 60 of us tonight,” some Jews worry.

Next, it’s a tossup between the relationship workshop and the ropes course. I decide I like humans more than heights and head over to hear what the visiting Rabbi Sherre Hirsch, has to say. She reads a passage from the 20th-century philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and tells us to partner up. A 26-year-old named Sam and I stare into each other’s faces for a full five minutes. “Sit with the discomfort,” the rabbi urges. Reluctantly, I do. I smile. He winks. I wiggle, examining his wrinkle-free forehead and bushy eyebrows bound to grow bushier in old age, until my awkwardness turns to calm. I’m overwhelmed by a deep feeling of curiosity and compassion for this man, for myself, for humanity.

“That was a good reminder,” Ms. Aghajani says afterward. “To give people more of a chance. To not swipe so fast.”

After a grilled cheese buffet, there’s solar art and yoga and Slip-n-Slide kickball. I head for the hammocks, where a guy with long red hair is lounging in a tie-dyed Helvetica T-shirt that reads “Falafel & Sabich & Hummus & Schwarma.” It’s his third Trybal. He is the camp guitarist, and a rocket scientist in real life.

“I come to be a kid again,” Jeremy Hollander, 34, says. He pauses. “And to, you know, be with my people.” In real life, he doesn’t bring up the fact he’s Jewish. “‘Hollander’ isn’t ‘Schwartzenbaum’. People see me and usually think I’m Scottish or something.” He feels safer that way. Especially today, he says, with rising anti-Semitism. “The flame is being fanned. You never know who has what opinions. Here, I can let my hair down.” (Although, technically, it’s in a ponytail.)

“The only one thing I have to worry about at camp,” he says, “is when am I going to squeeze in a shower?”

Still, before sundown, we all emerge from our bunks neat and clean and dressed in white. “Can you believe I got this for $2.99 at Saks Off Fifth!” exclaims Lauren Katz, a volunteer staffer wearing lace. (We can’t.)

Picture time. “Say Cheese!” the camp photographer instructs. “But we’re lactose intolerant!” someone cries from the crowd.

We gather in a stone-lined grove, to sing and sway and cheek-kiss “Shabbat Shalom,” before making our way to the dining hall for a sit-down dinner of roast chicken. And, of course, plenty of challah.

It’s all so familiar to me. The tunes are different, but the Hebrew words are the same. The trees are eucalyptus, not pine, and Mr. Hollander is not the longhaired, tie-dye-clad musician from my old camp, and yet — he could be.

I agree with what he said earlier. There is something easy and assuring about spending a summer weekend like I used to (albeit for eight whole weeks): with my people. Or, at least with people who remind me of my people. New friends bonded by old memories.

Trybal is like a modern millennial shtetl, where gesundheits fly. And “Hava Nagila” plays at a Hawaiian luau. And campfire stories include, “How I Became a ‘Nice Jewish Guys’ Calendar Model.”

It’s an alternate, insular world where I find myself running through a field, streaked in war paint, chanting: “We have spirit, because we’re Blues! We have spirit because we’re Jews!”

It’s a universe where conversation flows from the Netflix show “Shtisel” to the lack of Jews in Santa Barbara to the universal disdain for online dating (despite the fact that Trybal is sponsored by JSwipe), to whether Ms. Rosenberg indeed met her future husband.

“We’ll see,” she says, smiling. She did make-out at Arts & Crafts with the Trybal barista: a boy she barely remembers being at her bat mitzvah.

On the last night, I slip quietly out of the luau, where the D.J. is rocking “Lean On Me.” I leave the Leavitt ladies in their twin Hawaiian shirts and my Rosé bunkmates dancing the macarena. Mr. Shmutz and the Cabernets are making reunion plans. Mr. Blake is flirting with one of his crushes.

I have an early flight to catch. Back to my husband and kids and, in a way, the future. In the morning, I’ll miss the friendship bracelets and the compliment circle and, like a true last day of camp: tears. For a moment I have FOMO. And then I realize, it’s fine. Sometimes an Irish goodbye is just as good as a Jewish one.

Rachel Levin is a contributor to the Travel section and the author, with Wise Sons Deli, of “EAT SOMETHING,” to be published in March, by Chronicle Books.

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