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harry-leroy · 4 years

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OK. I've got to ask--Henry VI? I think you're the first person I've met who claims those as their favorite Shakespeare. I'll admit that I've read and seen a fair bit of Shakespeare, but I'm not familiar with them at all. What's the appeal? Why do you love them? Sell them to me. ;)

Oh boy, here we go :))))) (Thank you for giving me permission to scream - I also think I’m the only person I’ve ever met who has those as their favorite Shakespeare plays). Also, as we’ve talked opera - I think these plays could make a great Wagnerian style opera cycle.

First off, little disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist, so I can’t say that I’ve definitely got the best interpretation of the Wars of the Roses and the history that the H6 cycle covers. I know I do not - so you may read these plays and have totally different interpretations, and that’s great! This will kind of be how I came to love the plays and why they were (and still are) exciting for me to read.

I will admit, these plays are a bit of a minefield (as my Shakespeare professor said during a lecture on the histories and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that descriptor). Some of these scenes are not as well written, and many of them are almost irrelevant to telling a tight-knit story, so things get cut. Sometimes 1H6 is just cut entirely from productions, and I might venture to say that it is probably the least performed Shakespeare play. We get lines like “O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d, / That I in a rage might shoot them at your faces” (1H6.4.4.79-80), which I might say is nearly on par with “a little touch of Harry in the night” from Henry V. But despite the unevenness, there is so much from these plays that are meaningful, heartbreaking, and that continue to fascinate me. There’s so much about power and leadership that we can learn from these plays - and perhaps that’s why I took an interest in 1990s British politics because there are actually some very interesting similarities happening - but also a lot we can learn about empathy, hope, and love.

These plays have a lot of fascinating key players - it would honestly be a privilege to play any of them - and most (if not all) of these key players have some claim to power, just in the family lines they were born into. And this conflict is one that’s been building up since Richard II. With the Wars of the Roses we have a man who is unwilling, and sometimes unable to lead because of various circumstances, some of which having to do with his mental health, which was generally poor, and some of which have to do with the various times he was dethroned, captured, etc. - and I say unable for lack of a better word. Essentially, politics in these plays are caving in, and at a very rapid pace. There’s a hole at the center of government and people are ambitious to fill it. We also have a lot of people who could potentially fill that role, people who on principle, have a lot of political enemies. The nobles in these plays are having to assure that they themselves are in power or that their ally is in power, otherwise it is their livelihood at stake.

We have Henry VI, who was made king at nine months old after the untimely death of his father, the famous Henry V, and basically has people swarming him since birth claiming that they’re working in his best interest. He’s a bit of a self-preservationist to start, but by the end we see a man completely transformed by the horrors of war and ruthless politics. I also think he might be the only Shakespeare character who gets his entire life played out on stage. We see him at every stage of his life, which makes his descent all the more bitter. (One cannot help but see the broken man he is at forty-nine and be forced to remember the spritely, kind boy he was at ten). He’s a man who clings closely to God in an environment where God seems to be absent. He desires peace, if nothing else, and he wants to achieve this by talking things through. He’s an excellent orator (one only needs to look at the “Ay Margaret; my heart is drown’d with grief” monologue from 2H6, but there are countless other examples), but there’s a point where even he realizes that his talking will achieve nothing, and his alternative is heartbreaking.

We have his wife, Queen Margaret, otherwise known as Margaret of Anjou, or the “she-wolf of France”. I advertise her as “if you like Lady Macbeth, you’ll love Margaret of Anjou”. Sometimes Shakespeare can portray her as wanting power for herself, but I genuinely think she wanted a good life for her husband and her child, otherwise the alternative is begging at her uncle’s feet for protection in France (her uncle was Charles VII of France) while separated from her husband, having her or a member of her immediate family be killed, or worse. I think it’s important to remember with Margaret that historically she came from a family where women took power if their husbands were unable to. Her assumption of power in these plays is something that’s natural to her, even if it’s not reflected very well in Shakespeare’s language. You also see some fantastically thrilling monologues from Margaret as well, especially her molehill speech (one of two molehill speeches in 3H6, totally different in nature - the other one is from a heartbroken and forlorn Henry after the Battle of Towton) - Margaret’s monologue has got the energy of a hungry cat holding a mouse by the tail.

Also Henry and Margaret have a fascinating relationship. Because they’re so different in how they resolve conflicts, they grow somewhat disenchanted with each other at times, and can actually be mean to one another, despite their love. My favorite scene might be at the start of 3H6, where Margaret has come in with their seven year old son, Edward, and starts berating Henry for giving the line of succession to the Yorkists. What strikes me there is that we have a little boy having to choose between staying with his mom, or going with his dad - it’s something very domestic, and I think the emotional accessibility of that scene is what makes it memorable. It’s not about politics for me at that moment, it’s about a boy having to choose between his very estranged parents. Here’s a little taste from 1.1. in 3H6 - lines 255-261:

QUEEN MARGARET: Come son, let’s away. / Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them.

KING HENRY: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.

KING HENRY: Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.

We also have Richard, Duke of York, who is Henry’s cousin and leader of the Yorkist faction. If you’re at all familiar with 1990s British politics, as I have grown close to over the past month, York reminds me very much of Michael Heseltine (filthy rich and constantly vying for power) - and I would love to stage some kind of modern H6 cycle production just so I could make that connection. York’s father is one of the three traitors executed by Henry V at the start of H5, leaving him an orphan at four years old (historically). He is also Aumerle’s (from R2) nephew, and so when Aumerle dies at the Battle of Agincourt, little four year old Richard inherits both his father’s money and titles, and his uncle’s money and titles, making him the second richest nobleman in England behind the King. All this information is historical and doesn’t really show up in the play, but I think that kind of background would give a man some entitlement. He’s also next in line for the throne if something were to happen to Henry (until Henry has a son), so he feels it is his duty as heir to the throne to protect Henry (or in better words, he feels that he should be running the show) - Margaret feels that it is her duty to protect Henry as she is his wife and mother of Edward of Westminster, the Lancastrian heir, and so you can see where these two are going to disagree.

More fascinating are York’s sons, Edward, George, and Richard. Edward is this (for lack of better words) “hip” eighteen year old who comes and shreds things up at the Battle of Towton - becoming Edward IV in the process and chasing Henry off the throne. He is incredibly problematic, but I might venture to say that he’s the least problematic of the trio of York brothers. George of Clarence is (also for lack of better words) “a hot mess” and feels entitled to power, even though he may not readily give his motivations for it. I think he just wants it, and so he actually ends up switching sides mid-3H6 because he would actually be in a better position in government with those new allies. And finally, we have Richard of Gloucester (future Richard III), and in 3H6, you just get to see him sparkle. It puzzles me a bit how people can just jump into Richard III without getting any of the lead up that Shakespeare gave in the H6 cycle, and I think 3H6 is the perfect play to see that. I think it clears up a lot of his motivation, which Shakespeare didn’t get perfectly either, because there are some ableist things going on with these plays. He’s just as bloodthirsty, just as cynical, but in this play, he wins out the day.

These are just a few of the main characters. We’ve also got Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (known to history as “The Kingmaker”), who is this incredibly powerful nobleman who is wicked skilled in battle and seems to have a lot of luck in that area (until he doesn’t). We’ve got Clifford, who is just as bloodthirsty as Richard III (if not more so). We’ve also got Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester - Henry’s uncle and quite unpopular with his fellow noblemen, and Eleanor Cobham, his wife who gets caught in the act of witchcraft. (Talk to my lovely friend @nuingiliath if you want to hear about Humphrey or Eleanor). Joan of Arc also makes an appearance in 1H6, and often she’s the only reason that 1H6 gets performed.

There are so many ways to latch onto this cycle, and it can be for the huge arcs that these characters go on, or it can be for the very small reasons, like in the first scene of 3H6, like I mentioned earlier. It’s very much akin to Titus Andronicus in the language (I did a bit of research a while ago about the use of animal-focused language in Shakespeare’s plays, and the H6 cycle and Titus Andronicus lead the charts just in terms of frequency of people being referred to metaphorically as animals- they’re also chronological neighbors, all written very early in Shakespeare’s career). Also, these plays held a huge amount of weight at the time they were written - the effects of the Wars of the Roses were still pressing over the political climate of the 1590s.

I think these plays are great to read just in being able to contextualize the histories as a whole - you get to know how things fared after Henry V (spoiler: not well), and you also get the lead up to Richard III. The ghosts in Richard’s dream make sense after reading the H6 cycle - because those ghosts lived in the H6 cycle, and (spoiler: Richard wronged them in the H6 cycle). They were also the first of Shakespeare’s history plays, so you read subsequent histories plays that make subtle references to the H6 cycle, and I think you can take so much more out of the rest of the histories plays once you’ve read these.

I hope this was a little informative, and perhaps persuaded you to check them out!

Productions I recommend (you can click on the bold titles and it’ll take you to where you can access these productions):

Shakespeare’s Globe at Barnet (2013) // Graham Butler (Henry VI), Mary Doherty (Margaret of Anjou), Brendan O’Hea (Richard, Duke of York), Simon Harrison (Richard of Gloucester) - filmed at Barnet, location of the Battle of Barnet, where Warwick was killed in 1471.

ESC Production (1990) // Paul Brennen (Henry VI), June Watson (Margaret of Anjou), Barry Stanton (Richard, Duke of York), Andrew Jarvis (Richard of Gloucester) - a more modern production, one cast put together all seven major Plantagenet history plays (1H6 and 2H6 are combined into one play - a normal practice). Sometimes this footage can be a bit fuzzy, but I loved this production.

The Hollow Crown Season 2 // Tom Sturridge (Henry VI), Sophie Okonedo (Margaret of Anjou), Adrian Dunbar (Richard, Duke of York), Benedict Cumberbatch (Richard of Gloucester) - done in a film-like style, also with some pretty big name actors as you can see. Season 1 stars Ben Whishaw as Richard II, Jeremy Irons as Henry IV, Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff, and Tom Hiddleston as Hal/Henry V. (also available on iTunes)

RSC Wars of the Roses (1965) // David Warner (Henry VI), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret of Anjou), Donald Sinden (Richard, Duke of York), Ian Holm (Richard of Gloucester) - black and white film, done in parts on YouTube.

BBC Henry VI Plays (1983) // Peter Benson (Henry VI), Julia Foster (Margaret of Anjou), Bernard Hill (Richard, Duke of York), Ron Cook (Richard of Gloucester) - features my favorite filmed performance of Edward IV (played by Brian Protheroe), and my favorite filmed performance of Warwick (played by Mark Wing-Davey).

Also if you ever get to see Rosa Joshi’s production of an all female H6 cycle... *like every time I see photos my immediate reaction is *heart eyes* I haven’t seen it yet, but my amazing friend and fellow Shakespearean @princess-of-france has - I’m sure she’d love to talk more about it sometime! I’ll leave a picture I found on the internet...

Also tagging @suits-of-woe because we could cry about these plays all day.

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xsecretblastsx · 4 years

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1x09 - Blair Waldorf must pie!

Once again this took way longer than I wanted to. I guess it has a lot to do that this part of S1 is full of episodes that I loved and also are kind of important so I just feel that I have to be really in the mood to watch them with my full attention.

Anyway, enough about me, here’s the recap for this one after the break.

Thoughts I had while watching the episode

Loving the flashback of Serena in her wild days and Blair looking after her.

This flashback kind of messes up the timeline though. Because we’re told Serena was gone for a year, but that’s clearly not the case here.

Dan get’s to be Serena’s knight in shiny armor, great. To bad for him she was wasted.

How long ago was it that Blair’s dad been gone? Probs like quite a few months and he hasn’t come to visit her?

I mean I get that Dan is pissed with his mom, but that guilt comment was harsh

Harold Waldorf’s pumpkin pie, I don’t know if anyone has read as much fanfic as I have but this pie, is quite the celebrity.

The oh so casual mention that Blair takes Lexapro :/

Serena trying (and failing) to be casual when asking what Chuck’s doing today.

I think this is the first time that Serena (and later Nate) point out that Chuck and Blair are friends, considering they all were, this must mean that they were somehow closer friends.

This fight is such a clear example of how Blair and Serena go from besties to enemies in 5 seconds flat.

This one though is kind of funny to me in the way Serena’s like “I won’t judge” and then does exactly that.

Somehow Blair I don’t believe you when you say you don’t like Chuck’s natural musk, just a hunch.

I kind of feel Serena’s way of aproaching this topic was not the best, though to be fair Blair’s also really hard to approach.

Lilly how much I missed you last episode

Seeing Llily, Eric and Serena in Chinatown is giving me life for some reason

So by thanksgiving sophomore year Blair was already in recovery from her ED, she was really young when she started then.

Wow, “not this one Harold, we have to go together” this line implies so much and I can’t believe I never noticed before

Blair sending Nate to deal with Serena it’s interesting, because I wouldn’t imagine her being naive enough to not noticed Nate’s interest in Serena, granted she trusted them, but still

I love Dorota, always there for Blair, always loyal.

The mood at Nate’s thanksgiving dinner is so misserable.

Lily, Allison’s and Rufus faces are priceless. Let the drama begin!

“Oh the blond you stalk at school” really they told us and we didn’t listen!!!

Not that didn’t earned herself the harsh comment but, “he didn’t left us, he left you” kind of made me feel bad for Eleanor

Forget it, she was really insentive, and Blair’s face when she grabbed that pie is just heartbreaking.

I can’t believe I forgot about her throwing up incident after that dinner with Nate in the pilot... like wow.

Do you need to go with her? sorry Allison

This dinner is hilariously akward. Sorry Jenny, but I don’t think that song was about your mom.

This is one of my favorite Serante scenes, it’s so them.

Honestly this show needed more flashblacks. I love knowing more about their friendship pre series.

Nate thinking of calling Blair and then Serena, and realizing he can’t is the first time I think he truly gets how he really messed it up

It’s so weird now to see Blai’rs bathroom with the door conecting it to the other room.

Allison calling her character in a play Milly in reference to Lily sheds a bit of ligh in Dan’s abbilities in naming characters.

The captain reached rock bottom, poor Nate.

I wonder though if Anne was the one with the money, and yet Nate’s last name is prestigious, does that mean The Captain family had lost their money at some point and the only thing that remain was their last name?

I should have mentioned it before but Blair looks incredibly pretty this episode, and the dress is one of my all time favorites.

“But we’re not related” give it time Dan, give it time

Hi Cedric.

“Only a woman that had satisfied her sexual appetite in her youth could have married some of your step fathers” auch

And so Rufly ends... for now

Eleanor talking about the divorce paper and how she feels and how she acted because of it, reminded of a certain scene in S5. Blair’s truly her mother daughter.

The end of that flashback felt so much like this is why they say ignorance is Bliss. Except for Serena things are better for her now.

The New York setting makes this show even more awsome, that shot with the Bridge and the Manhattan skyline in the background while Dan’s family is having a merry old time is gorgeous.

So this episode was so good, it gave a lot of background information and added much more depth to some of the main characters, particularly Blair. But also Nate. I was really suprised by the amount of stuff I didn’t remember about this particular episode, so in that sense this feel like this is the episode I’ve enjoyed the most during my rewatch.

Having a flashback was easily the best part of this episode in the sense that it gives us a clear idea of how things were before the series and how disaster was brewing just beneath the surface. What a diference a year makes.The previous thanksgiving was at the height of Serena’s wild days, and it’s sad to see how her life was pretty much a never ending haze of parties and alcohol, she may be acting goofy but it’s an empty happiness and it let’s you feeling like this is the only way she can deal with her life. And always looking after her is Blair.

The Blair of a year before seems really happy, she’s on the road of recovery from her eating disorder, her parents are together, her mother is showing actually some concern for her, and Nate is still a loving boyfriend. And yet in many ways this is all a lie. Her parent’s marriage is just a charade, Eleanor’s comment asking Harold not to go after Roman, is so telling and it makes me wonder how long did Eleanor knew her husband was gay? that must have been such a burden for her, and it’s probably the reason why she was so focused in her work and wanted everything else to be perfect, in some ways it also explains her treating of Blair, wrong as it was.

Also the timing of this makes me kind of mad at Harold, he’s always comes across as the nice good parent, but this episode makes it really obvius how much his absence hurt Blair. Think about it. When the show starts it’s established that a few months before Harold had left his wife and the country in favor for a life in Paris with another man. So considering that november the previous year (only a year before the current episode) is the first time Harold hears about Roman this means he decided to leave his family for a guy he had just meth a few months before, I guess he must have really fallen in love and really quickly, and I understand his need to live a free life, but what a shock it must have been for Blair and how unloved she must have felt that his father was leaving her in New York with a mother that was incredibly hard on her, for a guy he just met. And this at a time when she was still recovering.

There’s also the Nate-Serena-Blair issue. At some poing after Thanksgiving, the Shepperd Wedding happened, which means like I mentioned before that Serena was gone less than a year, and the way Blair encouraged Nate to help her with Serena means that even if she may have suspect Nate’s interest in Serena she still believed that Nate did love her and that Serena would never do that to her and therefore she wasn’t worried about it. Blair doesn’t trust easily and in this case she did and it end ups with her being betrayed, and yet it was a long time coming. Just as I mentioned in previous recaps that there was lowkey something to Blair and Chuck’s friendship, the same can be said about Nate and Serena, I don’t like to mention at least not much future events in these recaps but really compare this scene of Nate and Serena goofing around in the bathroom with any of their scenes in the second half of S3 and they’re really similar, same vibe and chemistry. Nate and Blair goodbye at the end of the flashback even if he gaves her a kiss and calls her sweetheart, seems so lacking in comparison to his previous moment with Serena, and yet Blair smiles and it’s really happy about her life.

So all of this shows how much she had been hurting at the start of the show, her father gone, her best friend gone and a distant boyfriend who by this point couldn’t hide his interest in Serena coming across by how afected he was by her absence, and when the show starts it gets even worse. All the flashbacks of Blair dealing with food and even throwing up once when she was trying to forgive Nate his infidelity show us the depth of her problems and suffering and helps us to understand her so much more and feel for her. And in her moment of weakness she calls Serena, the fight at the star of the episode was a way of letting us know that in some ways Blair hasn’t let go completely of her betreyal and yet how easily their dissagrements go out of the picture the moment they really need each other, is such a deep friendhip, and yet how conflicting it must be for Blair to love and need so much a person who in many ways is a reminder of how things have gone wrong in the last year.

That is the crux about their friendship, they’re both there for each other when it really matters but it’s undenaible that they have hurt each other deeply, even without meaning too, Serena is a the root of some of Blair self steem issues, is not her fault but it has done Blair incredibly damage, at the same time Blair may be always there for Serena looking after her, but she’s frequently incredible cruel with her at times without a real reason beyond a missplaced sense of hurting her too, which causes scenes like their fight this episode where Serena tries to be a friend, becomes a little judgy and Blair overreacts and Serena understandably fights back... it’s a really complex relationship, and one of the aspects of the show that make’s it stand out.

Lastly, this episode is a good reminder of how ultimetly Ruflly and Derena can’t really function at the same time without it being weird for everyone involved, it also establishes the similitudes between both relationships, a warning of how things could end for Dan and Serena if they’re not careful, and this is only the start. Nate’s storyline this episode was super sad, last episode had him standing up to his parents, this one finally gets him to have some honest conversations with them, and while it hurts is nice to see him finally get to that moment. It’s a moment of real growth for him. It also gives some interesting background to his family history, about how Anne’s family (the Vanderbilts) are the real force behind his family life, the house, his father job... everything was given by the Vanderbilts. It makes me wonder a lot about the Captain’s family, and his history with Anne: did the captain came from a family with a prestigious Last name but that had lost their money at some point?, or was he an upstart? I can’t see snobish Anne falling in love with a nobody, but who nows.

Also, not that noticible at this point of the show beyond the paralles between Dan & Serena and Rufus and Lily, but in the last two episode some scenes of Eleanor and the captain had reminded me of future scenes and situations and Nate and Blair having similar reactions. Anyway I love this episode, the then and now, and how much more there is to these characters.

Random bits:

This is the first direct mention of Blair having an eating dissorder (not sure though, this is why I wanted to be faster with these recaps, so I don’t forget details)

Dorota’s wearing a themed apron, how cute

First mention of the Snowflake Ball, I like consistency hahaha.

Nate’s house look lovely, not sure if these are the real interiors of the house, probably not, but I did read somewhere the house used to be on rental? can’t remember.

There was a picture behind Jenny while they were having dinner of a kid wearing a suit, I know the cast used some actual photos of the cast as kids, so I don’t know if the kid is Penn but god the kid is so cute.

I’m not a New Yorker, but that place where Dan and his family are playing it’s really changed now isn’t it? There’s this guy called Action Kid in youtube and he was amazing videos about New York, and of this location in particular if my memory serves me right.

And because we rarely got to see Serena in her wild days, I feel I should end this post with just that.

#gossip girl #gossip girl recap #gossip girl rewatch #1x09 #blair waldorf must pie

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fc5holidayexchange · 4 years

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FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

Chocolate Cravings

Eleanor Seed/John Seed

Eleanor gets a hankering for some chocolate, and takes matters into her own hands.

@seedlingsinner

Happy Holidays! Hope you like it!

Enjoy!!

---------

Living in the bunker was...rough. Not due to interpersonal conflicts- she got along well with everyone currently hunkered in the bunker, and being John's fiancee had its certain perks among the faithful. The knowledge her friends were safe, her chosen family was alive and well, and that it wouldn't last forever kept her buoyed, but still..

Eleanor found herself yearning.

Food wasn't scarce in the bunker, but it was tightly rationed, with little margin for waste. Most meals were utilitarian- meat, vegetables, just enough to sustain. Rarely someone would break out the jam, but it couldn't be denied that there was something missing.

The feeling of turning ingredients inedible on their own into something magnificent was something she sorely missed, not to mention the gratification that came with watching people enjoy what she made.

But more than that, down here where most every meal came from a can, giving it that metallic, salty taste, she missed flavor.

Lord knows she loved John- enough to turn her back on friends, enough to lock down in this bunker for seven years, enough to act as mediator whenever Sharky managed to convince the children to revolt for the stash of sugary cereal John hid away.

Eleanor loved him, sure, but that didn't mean she could forgive his culinary crimes; all the spices in the world in the kitchen, and he absolutely refused to use any of them.

Not to mention the sugar. Eleanor had a sweet tooth a mile wide, and being deprived of it for months was driving her crazy.

Just the thought of a sweet vanilla bean ice cream, or a decadent German chocolate cake, or even a good old fashioned carrot cake had her mouth watering.

Of course, she kept up appearances- went to sermons, consoled the faithful, and kept the peace between the stragglers they'd managed to drag into the bunker before the bombs- but deep down,

She really wanted sugar. She wanted to bake something- maybe her favorite cookie, the triple chocolate chunk with a caramel drizzle she'd been salivating over for months, before the bunker, during the start of the Reaping.

The urge grew, til one night- the night before Christmas, if the calendar was right- Eleanor said fuck it.

She was gonna make some cookies. She had the recipe memorized anyway, from scouring the cookbooks in her local library.

So, a little past 10, when everyone was asleep and only the creepy red low energy lights lit the way, she snuck out of her and John's room, past the common room (which had been decorated as festively as possible considering the situation), and to the kitchen.

Eleanor paused in the central room, resting a hand against the ragged couch; someone was definitely sneaking around where they shouldn't.

The door was never supposed to be closed, the lights were supposed to be off, and there certainly wasn't supposed to be the muffled sound of cursing and clanking cutlery.

She sighed; it was probably one of their non Peggie inhabitants, who perpetually seemed to have problems with authority (Sharky) and kept sneaking other people's leftovers. She'd know, she'd had to fight him for the last slice of roast while they were barely into the beginning of their term in the bunker.

Eleanor donned her "What Do You Think You're Doing" demeanor, steeled herself for a fur-suited Sharky, and opened the door.

A shocked (and absolutely flour covered) John turned to face her, red to the ears with embarrassment. He obviously hadn't been expecting her, with the way he shuffled to hide the kitchen from her view, a dirty whisk behind his back.

Behind him the kitchen was an absolute mess; flour coated almost every surface (including the ceiling), utensils lay scattered on the floor, and the smell of burning flour permeated the room. A dash of cocoa was strewn across the floor, accompanied by little chocolate chips scattered like caltrops.

There they stood, staring incredulously at each other, John gradually growing more and more anxious until a giggle bubbled up in Eleanor's throat. John jolted at the sound, and soon after realizing she wasn't laughing at him, not maliciously, they were laughing together, leaning on each other for stability. A vague thought crossed her mind, of waking up the bunker, but it passed as she remembered John's red, flour covered ears and she just laughed harder.

"I was-"

"I'm-"

They started, stopped and looked at each other before bursting into fresh peals of laughter.

John led Eleanor- still giggling- into the kitchen, shut the door behind them, and slid them both to the ground.

After their laughter had calmed, John cleared his throat and wiped a tear from his eye. He hadn't looked this happy since the bombs, and the tousled, disheveled look was something Eleanor could appreciate on him.

"I was going to surprise you with cookies," John started, rubbing his face with a tattooed hand before recounting the story.

"I wanted to make your favorite cookie- we talked about it once before and I tracked it down. I was originally just going to give you the cookbook, but I wanted to really surprise you. "

He paused, trying to look nonchalant as he examined her face, relaxing when he only saw a gentle humor and boundless love in her eyes. "Everything was going perfectly. ", John continued.

"Until I tried to mix the flour in. I didn't listen when it said gradually and slowly, and, well.." he trailed off, motioning at the mess around him.

"I panicked and tried to fix it, but then I dropped the flour, and that's when you walked in. " John finished with a smile, Eleanor's lips twitching up in response. "But what were you doing outside the door? I didn't think I was that loud."

She smiled bashfully. "Actually..I've been thinking about those cookies for a while, since this whole thing started. I miss baking, and I really miss chocolate. Tonight it just kinda boiled over: I decided I wanted to bake. It was the perfect opportunity to make you a little something for Christmas,too."

Eleanor rubbed his hand absently with her thumb, totally missing the besotted look on his face as she thought about how to continue her story.

"I walked over and saw the light on. I thought it was one of the others-maybe Sharky- breaking curfew, but who do I find but the Herald, being a bad example!"

They both laughed and Eleanor leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes with a smile.

"...it's not too late. We could finish up the recipe." John offered with a short laugh. "You'd probably have to remake it completely, but…" he trailed off hesitantly as Eleanor looked up into his eyes, her smile widening.

"I'd like that", she replied softly, leaning up and pressing their lips together gently. He responded eagerly- almost too eagerly, and she was certain they would've ended up in a compromising position if she hadn't pushed him away reluctantly to remind him about the cookies.

They stood together, dusting flour off their pants, and Eleanor shifted into baker mode.

"The dough doesn't need much, just measure out 1/4th a cup of sugar…"

She and John worked seamlessly in the kitchen, mixing and measuring til finally, she tasted the chocolatey dough and deemed it "Damn Good." If it weren't for John's good influence, she would've eaten the whole bowl raw, salmonella be damned.

There were no festive cookie cutters, no sprinkles to decorate, but somehow, the simple act of spooning dough onto a sheet with the one she loved was enough to heal the years of lonely holidays.

She sighed, washing the flour off her hands, before looking at John, who looked exhausted but utterly happy. "We should probably start cleaning up, huh?"

Eleanor nudged him and he heaved a heavy put upon breath before nodding.

"I'll do the dishes if you sweep," he offered; a deal she was more than happy to take as she rushed towards the broom and dustpan set leaning against the wall.

Eleanor wiped her brow and glanced at the dinky clock hanging above the door as she swept the last of the flour into the dustpan; her cookies were almost done!

Twenty minutes had passed without their noticing, and the smell of cookies permeated the air. The timer on the oven ticked down steadily as John and Eleanor moved over to the small table, celebrating their cleaned kitchen and teamwork with a bottle of contraband wine John had managed to squirrel away.

When the timer beeped Eleanor jumped up, excitedly removing the cookies from the oven.

They smelled exactly as heavenly as she remembered; it was everything she had been craving, right down to the gently simmering caramel sauce on the stove top they'd drizzle on once the cookies had cooled enough.

Despite the situation, despite the uncertainty above and the (decreasing) tensions below, Eleanor couldn't remember being happier. Sitting here, in this warm kitchen, freshly baked cookies cooling on the rack with the love of her life; how did she ever get so lucky?

When the cookies cooled and the clock chimed midnight, she and John shared a toast of freshly baked cookies and red wine to their first Christmas together and the sweetest cookies she'd ever made.

#john seed/female deputy #john seed #deputy oc #fluff #gift: fic #seedling-sinner #submission

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laufire · 4 years

Note

I love when I win XDD. Ok, so, let's see: Eleanor Shellstrop, Lizzie Saltzman, Rosita from WEarp, Alisson Argent (one of my best friends was an Alisson stan in rl, and I used to be sick of hearing how awesome she was), Cersei Lannister and Echo from T100

EleanorShellstrop

This is thefirst time I really stop to think of Eleanor this way and… huh. I think she’s aVimes, which is not exactly what I would’ve expected xD (I guess it makessense, because a few Eleanor/Tony parallels had already ~pinged my radar lol).

There’s asimilar tired cynicism, just walking ahead in life with this sense ofnothing-really-matters, despite clearly being dissatisfied about it on somelevel (Vimes is a lot more self-aware than Eleanor, for one). Both have a “wakeup call” later in life when it’s (almost) too late, and after that you get tosee them taking charge, indignant about the faults of the system, etc. I evensee parallels between the Eleanor-Michael and Vimes-Vetinari dynamics (thisunofficial “mentor”, and how they transform each other’s worldviews).

LizzieSaltzman

The obviousone is Caroline, duh, and ofc there’s plenty of Caroline in her lol. But Ithink I see some Lana too? It’s not as obvious, it’s not really about anything she’ssaid or done just… a vibe. Maybe it’s just the actress, idk. I haven’t put myfinger on it, I’ll tell you if/when I do :P

Also, herresentment over the Alaric-Hope situation is very, very Jason with Bruce-Dicklol.

RositaBustillos

A Jason. Nodoubt in my mind. First, she’s a nerd (science nerd and not literature nerd,but still). And ofc, how her “origins” separate her from the core clan (Batfam/TeamEarp), put her at odds with them, make her feel she’s expendable for them (and she’sright here, unlike Jason). All culminating with her crossing A Line that breaksher relationship with them.

AllisonArgent

(I feel foryour friend lol. Allison’s death literally changed the way I get invested incharacters & shows xDD)

She’sALWAYS reminded me of Lana. Always. A Lana with a rushed arc, that met thetragic ended Lana avoided (most of the Lana types I’ve met so far had tragicendings, while Lana, original Tragedy Girl, swiftly avoided it lol). “Dark” arcincluded (and I guess Gerard would be her Lionel, sorta? It’s been a long timesince I watched these shows lol). Clark/Lana and Allison/Scott have a lot incommon too, imo. That Magic & destructive power of that first, True Love.Allison’s and Lana’s fears about being “weak”, the pressure they felt to bePerfect™. My bby girls.

CerseiLannister

If therewas ever a cautionary tale for how bad things could’ve gone for Caroline… I knowthis is an extremely controversial opinion, but I don’t think people realizedhow terrible SC would’ve ended for her, if it wasn’t for Klaus appearing andtransforming how the writers felt about SE. But Caroline stuck with a guy sheused to hero-worship but that was still obsessed with his past love, who hecouldn’t have for some reason, and in turn mistreated her? INCREDIBLE LIKELY,imo (Mellie Grant is another example for this, like I’ve told you).

ETA: after a conversation in the tags, I want to say it here (so it can be read by everyone), that Rhaegar=Stefan and Robert=Matt is a perfect parallel too xDD

Butbasically, yeah. The “dreams” they had when it came to men & how they wereshattered, the mean streak present in both from early on, the ambition andhunger. How they grasped power (vampirism for Caroline) and didn’t let go.Their approach to soft vs. hard power strikes me as similar too.

Echo kom Azgeda

I do see bothCaroline and Jason in her. From Caroline, her quick thinking, the leaps oflogic they make (T100’s s6 main plot is basically Katherine-in-Elena’sbody-snatch situation lol, and Echo figured out in two seconds flat once shestumbled into the first inconsistence –which I predicted. I literally said “Echo had to be absent from this episode because she would’ve figured out in two seconds flat”, and what do you, next episode she does just that xD–, just like Caroline did. It reminded meof how Caroline figured out the DE sire-bond too). Their willingness to carryout Tough Choices, how they cling to a notion of Their People.

BTW,recently there was an Echo Appreciation Week, and while I was making thosegifsets I noticed Echo sorta reminds me of Lizzie LMFAO. Something about the actresses’ expressions, body language etc. Plus there’s this AMAZING scene whereEcho just walks up to a guy and stabs him in the stomach with a sword, saying “Hesitationis death”, and while editing it I kept remember when Lizzie just walked up andstabbed Landon without a second thought xD. As a bonus? Landon’s body died, buthe could come back because he’s a Phoenix. The dude Echo stabbed is abody-snatcher, so while that body died, his chip could be put on someone else (also,Echo used said cheap as leverage against his mother. She makes me proud

With Jasonthere’s how they were made to take someone else’s name/mantel as children, howshe made that Her Identity, how her leader let her down & banished her whenhe thought she’d gone “too far”. How she keeps reinventing herself. The arc isout of order, but the emotional beats are so there. I guess Queen Nia could beher Talia too, thankfully without the sex xDD. And the way the conflict betweenher and Raven in s5 (aka Echo wanting to kill a dude Raven was getting investedon for valid strategic reasons xD) is not dissimilar to Dick and Jason’s dynamic imo(Echo at least is not alone being the Morally Dubious One Pushing For Murder AsA Solution in her new family! Murphy reminds me a lot of Jason too. So doesEmori. LOL).

#missbrunettebarbie #replies #talking to the void #my thoughts #everything i love is the same #eleanor shellstrop #lizzie saltzman #rosita bustillos #allison argent #cersei lannister #echo kom azgeda #caroline forbes #sam vimes #jason todd #lana lang #this was super fun to do thanks :DDD

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ginger-and-mint · 4 years

Text

Holiday Homes (5)

Final Score from Previous Choice:

🍽️4 votes 🍳3 votes

How to Play | First | Previous | Next

- - -

Si patted Ryder’s shoulder. “Let’s go sit in the dining room.”

Ryder’s expression was a mix of relief and fresh concern. “But your aunt…?”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. She’s not really that bad, I’m just salty. Come on.” Si took Ryder’s hand and tugged him towards the dining room. “I bet my brother will be happy to see you again.”

Sure enough, as soon as the two of them appeared in the doorway, Si’s older brother Marius jumped out of his seat to greet them. “Hey! Look who finally made it!”

“Sorry we’re late.” Si edged around the table to give their brother a hug. “It was totally my fault.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Marius laughed. He turned to grasp Ryder’s hand. “Good to see you again, Ryder! Glad you could join us! Girls -- scoot over, make some room for Si and Ryder.”

The table was crowded. Besides Marius, his wife Julie, and their daughters Eleanor and Maggie, there was also Si’s Uncle Geoff and cousins Samantha and Mitchell. Si didn’t see Aunt Lucy, but considering her whole family was there, she had to be around somewhere.

At the end of all the shuffling, Si found themselves sandwiched between Ryder and their niece Eleanor, who beamed up at them. “Hi, Auntie Si!” (Si had told their brother’s kids that they could call them either “Auntie Si” or “Uncle Si.” It’d been interesting to see, in the intervening years, how the girls used both interchangeably, although Si had noticed that “auntie” tended to be more frequent whenever they wore lipstick.)

“Hi Eleanor!” Si leaned in to give their niece a hug. “Good to see you. Gosh, you’re getting so grown up! You’re in fifth grade now, aren’t you?”

Eleanor nodded. “It’s a lot more responsibility than fourth grade,” she said, as endearingly serious as always. “I have a lot more homework. Oh, and I’m going to be in the school band!”

“Hey, that’s great! Another musician in the family!” Si enthused, and the thrilled expression on Eleanor’s face told them that this was the reaction she’d been hoping for.

A commotion at the door distracted them from the conversation. There was Aunt Lucy, along with Si’s father, parading into the room with big ceramic dishes of food.

“Who’s hungry?” Aunt Lucy trilled, and a cheer rose up from the table.

Ugh, not me, Si thought, but they cheered along.

It took a couple trips for all the food to be brought out. All the dishes Si remembered from their childhood were there -- roast turkey, scalloped potatoes, creamed spinach, fresh-baked rolls with butter, green beans, and of course, more stuffing and more sweet potato casserole. Despite the cramped heaviness still lingering in their belly, Si’s mouth watered at the idea of a second chance at their favorite dishes.

"Why don’t we pass everything around?” Marius suggested. He turned to his wife. “Green beans, Julie?”

Eleanor watched her father’s example and then reached for the dish of sweet potato casserole in front of her. "Would you like some of this, Auntie Si?”

“Aw, sure!” Si held out their plate. “Just a little bit, please.”

Face set with concentration, Eleanor raised the spoon full of sweet potatoes -- and dropped a heaping scoop of them onto Si’s plate. “Oops...” she said, crestfallen. “Is that too much?”

“No, no,” Si lied quickly. “This is perfect. Thank you!”

By the time all the food had made it around the table, Si was left with a full plate. Gosh, there’s no way I can eat all of this, they thought ruefully. Hopefully I can just make a dent...

Across the table, Aunt Lucy cleared her throat. "It’s been a long time, Si. Are you still playing around with that music of yours?”

Oh crap, here we go. Si tried not to let the depth of their annoyance show through in the tone of their voice. “I sure am.”

“Such a persevering spirit. No record deal yet?”

“Well, no. But that’s not what I’m after, I’ve always been more of a live performer than--”

“That’s a shame. Just remember there are plenty of degree programs out there that can train you in nice useful skills. Talk to Samantha, if you ever decide to look into it. She’s just been accepted to a very well-regarded nursing program.”

Poor Samantha gave them a deeply apologetic look. Si felt bad for her -- she was a nice kid, it wasn’t her fault her mother was a pain in the butt. They gave her a big smile. “That’s great, Sam. Congrats!”

“All I’m saying is that you’re in your thirties now,” Aunt Lucy went on. “It might be time to think about a career.”

"Eh, I don’t know. Maybe when I’m forty.” Si couldn’t help the slightest bit of cheek. They winked at Aunt Lucy, hoping to play the whole irritating exchange off as a joke, and then filled their mouth with scalloped potatoes in what they figured would be a clear end to the conversation.

It worked, thankfully. If there was one thing Aunt Lucy found more offensive than artists making a living, it was talking with one’s mouth full. She turned to say something to Uncle Geoff, and Si glanced around the table for other potential conversation partners.

To one side of them, Ryder was locked in an eager conversation with Marius about some nineteenth-century literary movement. (Marius taught English courses at a community college. Ryder was just a nerd.) Everything they were saying might as well have been quantum physics as far as Si was concerned.

So they turned to Eleanor, who was talking to her younger sister Maggie. “So what are you girls talking about?”

“Our favorite book series.” Eleanor showed them the little chapter book she’d brought to the table. “Have you heard of it?”

“I most definitely have not,” said Si. “Please, tell me everything you know about it.”

By the time quiet sighs of satisfaction and loud declarations of fullness had begun springing up around the table, Si knew more than they had ever wanted to know about which characters had died, which ones had fallen in star-crossed love, and which had done both. They had also -- they realized with a soft jolt that hit somewhere deep in their middle -- nearly finished their entire plate.

They had scarcely realized they were eating so much. At some point, the tight feeling in their belly had abruptly eased, as though they’d hit a wall and then pushed through it. They’d still felt full, for sure, but full in a way that suggested they could be fuller. Now that they had stopped eating, that illusion was crashing down.

“Ooh, gosh,” Si murmured under their breath, shifting in their seat. Their tummy felt enormous, so distended that it was hard to believe it was still part of them.

They were so stuffed that they honestly felt a little dizzy. The world seemed to be blurring around them as people rose from the table, carting dishes off to the kitchen. They had the feeling they should be helping, but they weren’t so sure about standing up right then. Their belly felt so heavy, and looking down, they realized with sheepish dismay that could see obvious roundness pushing out against the close-fitting fabric of their sweater...

"Come to the dining room if you want mulled wine!” Si heard their mother’s voice call out. “We’ll serve mulled wine in the dining room!”

The idea of adding anything else to their stomach made Si squirm in their seat. As unappealing as moving sounded, maybe it was better than staying and being served a drink.

Then a gentle touch to their shoulder had Si looking up at Ryder. “Marius and I are going to take our conversation the living room,” he said. “It’ll be quieter there. Do you want to come?”

Si hesitated. If it had just been Ryder, they would’ve joined him in a heartbeat. But if Marius saw how bloated they were right now, they’d never hear the end of it. They already fielded enough crap from him about the small size of their usual appetite. Maybe it’d be better to slip off to the kitchen to get started on the dishes. They could probably get a little privacy there until the swelling in their tummy went down a little.

What to do...? It was so hard, Si thought, to make a decision with their belly weighing on their brain...

What should Si do now?

🧽Suck their tummy in and go help with the dishes 🍷Stay at the table, even if it means having to find room for a drink 🗣️Join Marius and Ryder in the living room.

(Voting for this choice is now closed.)

#interactive2 #Ryder #Si

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mldrgrl · 6 years

Text

36 and Four Minutes

by: mldrgrl Rated: PG-13 Summary: Based off a psychological study I read about a husband and wife team who attempted to create love in a lab. This is set the night before The Unnatural and hopefully acts as a precursor for the season of secret sex ;)

It had been a rough year, to say the least. Mulder could not remember a time in his life where so many shitty things seemed to happen in such a short period of time. The worst of it was, he could feel Scully slipping away from him, little by little. It scared him, to be honest, and he did not behave well when he was scared, which pushed her even further away than she already was. He needed something to bring them back together, to get them on the same page before Skinner took action and tried to send them to another team building seminar. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was attend a team building seminar, and he was fairly certain he was not going to find another pair of mothmen to get them out of it a second time should they be forced to go.

He learned about the study from one of his chats with Karin Berquist, of all people. Though the reclusive and anti-social dog behaviorist put all her energy into canine studies, that was not how she began her career. She told him to look up Arthur Aron’s 36 questions, which he did, and the study of lab-generated intimacy seemed like it would be the perfect tool to strengthen the bonds of his partnership, but first he had to get Scully on board, and that would be no easy task. She wasn’t really talking to him all that much since Phillip Padgett wreaked his havoc on their lives.

Getting her out of the office was essential. He didn’t want to be interrupted by work and he needed her to have her guard down a little. He thought about surprising her at home, but she wasn’t too keen on surprises and treated him with suspicion when he showed up at her door. Of course, every time he had shown up at her door unannounced, he always brought work with him, so she had every right to be suspicious. On Friday night, he took a shot in the dark while she was shutting down her computer for the day.

“You wanna grab a beer with me?” Mulder asked. He had come around to the front of his desk and rocked forward and back against the chair there as he watched her pack up.

“Now?” she answered, zipping up her bag. “I’ve got some things I need to do.”

“Now?”

“Yes. I’ll see you Monday.”

“What kind of things?”

“Mulder.”

He let go of the chair and moved towards her to help her with her overcoat. “Things I could help with?”

“Laundry.”

“Scully, it’s Friday night. Don’t tell me you’re turning me down for dirty clothes.”

“There’s also soe cleaning I need to do and catching up on JAMA.”

“Now I’m hurt.”

“It’s not about you, Mulder.”

The fleeting glance up at him she gave said otherwise and it made him even more determined to get her to come out with him. He had done some asshole things over the years and left her behind at times, chosen other options because he thought they were more important in the moment, but never did he do it because he simply didn’t want to be in a room with her, like she was doing now. It stung.

“Dinner is included,” he said, careful to keep all traces of desperation out of his voice. “My treat of course.”

“Look, I just…”

“...have better things to do?” He swallowed and then nodded, unintentionally playing into her sympathies as he slowly trudged back to his desk. “Some other time then. Have a nice weekend.”

“Mulder…”

“Yeah?”

“One beer.”

Once he had her on the hook, he sweetened the deal ever further by taking her to a bar he’d dropped in on a few times that was by her apartment. It had a relaxed atmosphere, served food, and he’d never seen it busy. They both parked in front of her building and walked the few blocks over to the little hole in the wall. They hung their jackets on a rack by the door and Mulder rolled up his shirtsleeves as he straddled a barstool at the far end of the bar.

At the other end of the bar sat two older men, engrossed in conversation. Behind them, in the middle section of a row of three booths, a man and woman sat together, also engrossed in conversation. At the back near the restrooms, a jukebox played at a pleasant volume, only loud enough to keep the conversations private.

So few and far between were patrons, the bartender had been lounging at his station reading a paperback. He had hopped to attention when the door scraped closed behind them and approached their corner with coasters and napkins at the ready.

“Shiner Bock,” Mulder answered when the kid, probably only just barely able to legally drink himself asked what he would have.

“Same for me,” Scully added. “What are you reading?”

“Um, it’s called Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus,” the young man answered, opening their bottles. “My girlfriend is making me read it.”

Mulder snorted softly. “What was the fight about?”

“She says I don’t listen. Well, she says I listen, but I don’t hear.”

“Could be an epidemic,” Scully said, inspecting a freestanding plastic menu on the countertop in front of her.

Mulder glanced her way and then raised his brows at the bartender. The bartender raised his back as though he understood completely.

“Any advice?” the kid asked.

“She’d probably be the first to tell you that I’m the last person you should ask,” Mulder answered, tipping his head towards Scully as he took his first sip of his beer.

“Relationships are work,” Scully said. “And they take time to cultivate. Take your time and do the work.”

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Seven years,” Mulder answered, just as Scully also replied, “Oh, we’re just…”

“Then you must be doing something right.” The kid glanced between the two of them and then straightened again. “Would you like to order anything?”

“Chicken salad sandwich,” Scully answered.

“Burger, medium rare,” Mulder said. After the kid walked away, Scully gave Mulder a bit of a scowl and he shrugged. “What?” he asked. “You walked into my office March of ‘92. It is now March 26, 1999. Happy late anniversary, honey.” He held his beer out at a slight angle close to hers.

After a few moments, Scully actually picked up her bottle and tapped it against Mulder’s. “I hadn’t even realized it’s been…that long.”

Mulder felt like this was the opening he’d been wanting. He nodded a little and turned towards her on his stool. “It is a long time. And you know, if we go back to what you just said, relationships take time to cultivate.”

“Yes.”

“I read this study recently about an experiment a psychologist performed back in the ‘60s where he wanted to see if he could scientifically cultivate relationships within a lab.”

“That sounds absurd.”

“Well, it worked.”

Scully laughed lightly and took a pull from her beer. “Worked how?”

“Their subjects were married within six months.”

“That’s not really proof of anything though.”

“Aren’t you curious how he did it?”

“You haven’t even told me what he did.”

“He developed a series of questions that people answer together and it can instantly bring two strangers into an intimate relationship.”

“Give me an example.”

Mulder took a sip of his beer and then held up a finger. He backed off the barstool and went over to his jacket on the rack. He fished out the paper that was folded in his breast pocket and went back to the bar.

“You have them with you?” Scully asked, raising her brow.

“You want to run our own experiment?” he answered.

“Let me see.” She held out her hand for his paper, but he held it away.

“There are rules. You can’t read them first. We take turns doing the asking, but we both have to answer.”

“Where’s the experiment in it?”

“Either it’s cultivating, or it isn’t.”

“We’re not strangers, though.”

“No, but...how well do we really know each other?”

There was a look of both surprise and agreement in Scully’s eyes. She took a long drink from her bottle and then placed it on the counter with extra care. She wiped her knuckle across her bottom lip and the corner of her mouth.

“You don’t know what these questions are?” she asked.

“Nope. I only read about the study.”

“What if there’s one we don’t want to answer?”

“I’m willing to answer all of them, whether I want to or not.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that, but alright. I’ll play.”

Mulder smiled and unfolded the paper. He grabbed a napkin from the bar and covered the printed list of questions so that they would stay hidden and then he placed the paper between them on the bar.

“Should we flip a coin to see who goes first?” he asked.

“Just start,” she answered. “Before I change my mind.”

“Number one. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

“That’s easy,” she said, immediately after Mulder finished the question. “Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“You said once that you’d try to live in her body as a day, she can’t also be your answer for dinner guest.”

“Last I checked, there were no rules in this questionnaire.”

“Well, there is one rule, complete honesty.”

“And that is my honest answer. Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Why?”

“She was an amazing woman with an amazing life and I’d like to know more about her from her own mouth. I would love to know how she accomplished all she did. I think she’d be just about the most fascinating dinner guest I could ever hope for.”

“Okay, fine.”

“And what would be your answer?”

“The King, of course.”

“I guess I should’ve expected that. Why, though? Why Elvis and why not...why not George Hale?”

“George Hale? Because I’m having a dinner party, not an astronomy symposium.”

“He’s got to be a better conversationalist though.”

Mulder made a noise of disagreement with his beer at his lips and shook his head. “I beg to differ. Elvis would have stories. Why would I pick George Hale?”

“Wouldn’t you want someone more...intellectually stimulating?”

“I mean, it’s dinner, not a life partner.”

“Oh.” Scully ducked her head a little and hid a smile in her beer.

“What?”

“Nothing. That’s just...good to know.”

He passed the paper her way. “Your turn.”

“Two. Would you like to be famous? In what way?”

Mulder screwed up his face a little. “No. But, I think the better question is, if I had to be famous for something, what would it be?”

“What would it be then?”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a pro baseball player. I wanted to play for the Yankees and I wanted to hold records and be in the baseball hall of fame.”

“Did you ever try to pursue it?”

“Nah. It was just a dream. It sort of died on the vine before I was even out of Little League.”

“You played Little League?”

“West Tisbury Diamondback, second baseman, number 14.”

Scully smiled as though she was picturing it. “How old were you?”

“Six. Six, I think, when I started. I was nine when I quit.”

“Why? You seem to really love it. Even still.”

“Things were already kind of rocky at home by then. It was just better if I...you know.”

“Oh.”

“So what about you?”

“No aspirations for fame.”

“But, if you had to be famous for something, what would it be?”

Scully took a few moments to think. She started to answer, then hesitated, and started again after another few moments. “I’d like to discover something,” she said. “Be the first to...find a cure for something or...just something in that arena.”

Mulder got quiet and scratched at the label on his bottle. “Like a cure for cancer?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“There’s still time.”

“No. I can’t imagine being locked in a lab somewhere running endless amounts of tests. No.”

He wanted to tell her that at least she’d be safe, but he knew she’d find it patronizing. Truthfully, he couldn’t imagine Scully spending her days in a lab any more than she could. But, really, he just didn’t want to imagine her anywhere but his side.

“Mulder?”

“What?”

“Your turn.”

“Right. Three. Before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you're going to say? Why?”

“Not now,” she answered. “I don’t have time to think when I make a call, usually.”

“You said not now, was there ever?”

A smile bloomed on Scully’s face and the apples of her cheeks turned a rosy hue. “There was one time, I was about twelve or so, and I kind of had my first crush.”

Mulder smiled as Scully was momentarily lost in the joy of her memory. She laughed to herself for a few moments and tucked her hair back over her ears. It was possibly the cutest thing he’d ever seen her do.

“I was sort of a tomboy growing up, you know?” she continued. “So, I really didn’t...I wanted him to see me as more than the girl he rode his bike to the beach with. And Melissa was the girliest girl I knew. Plus, she’d already had at least five or six boyfriends that I knew of, so I went to her for help.”

“What was this kid’s name?”

“Mikey.”

“I’m guessing you called Mikey in a Cyrano-like scenerio.”

“That is exactly what I did.”

“And what happened?”

“Crashed and burned. He kept asking me why I was being so weird and I was so mortified by the whole experience I cried into my pillow for the next week and refused to ride bikes with him again.”

“That is so sad.”

“It’s a good memory, though.” Scully flashed a smile at Mulder. “Missy felt terrible about it and it brought us closer.”

“I’m glad you have that.”

“Me too. So, do you rehearse your calls?”

“When I was with the VCU, sometimes I found it easier to work off a script if I had to make difficult calls. You know, if I had to question a grieving widow about her husband’s murder or a parent who just lost a child. I found that...it didn’t really work though. People are more responsive to authenticity.”

“I’ve always thought you were good with people.”

“You have?” He paused with his nearly empty beer close to his mouth, genuinely surprised.

“Yes.”

“Being good with people is not something I’ve ever been accused of.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Mulder put his beer down and his brows came together. He knew his shortcomings. He had issues with authority. He had no patience for arrogance or incompetence. He was sometimes unduly antagonistic with suspects. He truly didn’t understand how Scully could sit there and say he was good with people.

“You should see the look on your face right now,” Scully said.

“I’m just a little...are you joking?”

“Are you really unaware of how compassionate you are?”

“I...um…”

A lull in the conversation followed. Mulder stared at Scully and she stared at her beer. They’d only made it through three questions and already she’d shocked him, and it was such an innocuous question at that. He suddenly wished he’d read through all the questions so he could see what else might be coming.

“Number four,” Scully said, turning the paper towards her with her fingertips and breaking the silence. “What would constitute a perfect day for you?”

Mulder blinked and cleared his head. “Uh. Um, I think, probably waking up to a sunny day, not too hot, maybe going for a nice run and finding a pick up game of basketball. Ordering a really good pizza and watching the Yankees win the world series. No, being at the game behind home plate. That would be the perfect day.”

“I think the same as you, I’d like to wake up with the sun shining and a nice breeze. I’d probably go to the beach and then have someone take me out in a sailboat for awhile. I want to eat some really good seafood, sit in front of a bonfire for a bit, then end the day with a bubble bath and a glass of wine.”

“That sounds really nice.”

Scully shrugged.

“You want another beer?” he asked, noticing she was running low as he finished his.

“Sure.”

Mulder held up his beer bottle to get the bartender’s attention and then flashed two fingers at him. The kid came back with two more beers and took their empty bottles away.

“Food should be ready in about five minutes or so,” the kid said.

“Do you have any chips or pretzels?” Scully asked.

“Sure.”

“Getting comfortable?” Mulder asked her.

“We’re only on question five and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not getting any laundry done tonight,” she answered, and then thanked the kid when he slid a bowl of pretzels onto the bar between them. “Besides, if you’re buying, I might as well take advantage.”

Mulder chuckled and slid the paper back in his direction as she munched on a pretzel. He then let out a full laugh when he read the next question and looked at her with a wide smile.

“When did you last sing to yourself?” he asked. “To someone else?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear you answer anyway. And I don’t know when the last time you sang to yourself was.”

“I don’t sing. I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. The last time I was forced-”

“No one forced you. I made a very polite request which you were kind enough to comply with.”

“Shut up, Mulder. You answer.”

“I sang in the shower this morning. A very soulful rendition of Heartbreak Hotel that would make angels weep.”

Scully rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

“And I don’t remember the last time I sang to someone. But, if we’re ever lost in the woods again, I want you to know I’d happily sing you to sleep and I’ll even take requests.”

“That is exactly why we’re never going into the woods ever again. Question six. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you choose?”

“Hm. Hm.” While Mulder was thinking about the question, their food was brought out. They took a pause to arrange their plates and then he returned to his thoughts. “So the problem is, this question assumes that there will be a decline both physically and mentally. I’m not even actually really worried about either.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, I plan to be as handsome and brilliant at 90 as I am today.”

Scully, about to take a bite of her sandwich, burst out laughing and had to put the sandwich back down. “That’s assuming you’re handsome and brilliant,” she said, wiping her greasy fingers with a napkin.

“Um, ouch.”

“You have to pick one.”

“Brains.”

“I think I would go with the body.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Don’t you remember that time on the Ardent? If that’s what it feels like to be physically old, I’m choosing the body.”

“Damn, I’d forgotten about that.”

“Looks like you’re losing the brains already.”

“Har har.” He gave her a fake glare before turning his attention to the next question. He pursed his lips and glanced at Scully as she finally took a bite of her dinner. “Um. Number seven. Do you...do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

“I don’t, remember?”

Mulder looked down at his burger. “You don’t have to answer this one.”

“I think we’ve both come too close to death not to think about it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not something I like to think about.”

“Facing your own mortality is-”

“You, dying,” he interrupted. “I don’t want to think about that.”

Scully wiped her fingers off with another napkin and then she turned herself towards Mulder and put a hand on his knee. “I plan on going in my sleep, peacefully, a long time from now.”

“You can’t plan on that.”

“Don’t get maudlin on me. Not when we’re having such a nice time.”

“You’re having a nice time?”

“I have free dinner, drinks, and good conversation. I’m having a nice time, so tell me how you think you’ll die.”

Mulder laughed and she squeezed his knee before returning to her sandwich. “I don’t know, but I’d like it to be the same as you.”

“You might want to think about that the next time you jump onto a moving train.”

“That’s why I need to keep my 30 year old brain intact to stop me from doing stupid things.”

“Hasn’t stopped you yet.”

“Touché.” He lifted his beer at her in salute and then took a drink.

“Number eight. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common. Oh, I like this one.”

“I certainly didn’t think we had anything in common when we first met.”

“Well, we were both FBI agents.” She smiled at him as she brought her sandwich up to her mouth.

“Let me think.” He ate his burger, chewing slowly and washing down each bite with a sip of beer. He watched Scully nibble on a slice of pickle that was laid out behind her sandwich.

“Tick tock, Mulder.”

“Okay, we are both FBI agents.”

“Cheater.”

“We both like the same beer. And we both prefer music over talk radio.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Prefer music.”

“Really? But…”

“I prefer that it keeps you occupied on long car rides. You get antsy when we listen to talk radio.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought that...I didn’t know you were being deferential.”

“It’s to save my sanity as much as yours.”

“We can listen to talk radio if you want.”

“Then I’d just miss out on your enthusiastic air guitar solos.”

Mulder actually felt himself blush at that. Scully never seemed to pay that close attention to him, whether she was driving or engrossed in a casefile.

“My turn,” she said. “We both prefer driving over flying. I think we are both good at what we do. And we have both lost loved ones because of it.”

“I wish we didn’t have that in common.”

“I do too.”

Mulder nodded softly before he moved to the next question. “Nine. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?”

“That’s difficult. I have a lot I’m grateful for.”

He left her to ponder while he ate his burger. He was already low on his second beer, but he didn’t want another quite yet. He didn’t intend to get drunk, and he didn’t want her to be either.

“That I’m here,” Scully blurted suddenly. “I am most grateful, above everything else, that I’m still here.”

“We can name that as another thing we have in common, because that’s my answer too.” He looked at her hand where it rested on the bar and wanted to cover it with his, but he didn’t.

“10,” she said. “If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

“I wish I’d had parents that talked more. To me and to each other. You know, when it wasn’t silent, it was loud. I never knew which was worse.”

“It was always loud at my house. I used to wish for silences. I wouldn’t trade that chaos now for anything, but I used to back then. I guess I would’ve liked to have had my dad around a little more, but sometimes it was confusing when he was home.”

“How so?”

“My mother was a fairly typical woman of her time. She was devoted to her church, her husband, and her children, in that order. Most of the time, we saw her as a very capable, strong woman, until Ahab came home, and it was like he was the king and we were all his subjects. It was easier adjusting to new schools and new neighborhoods than it was adjusting to a mom who suddenly answered all questions with ‘go ask your father.’ And while she was strict, she still never ran as tight of ship as Ahab. Rules changed, bedtimes changed, everything changed in the weeks he’d be there.

“At first, when he’d come home, we were all pretty reverent. Happy to see him, excited he was home, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly. The thing is, he was used to sailors who snapped to attention when all he had to do was walk by. He wasn’t accustomed to rowdy children who were different each time he returned. He loved us, of course, and we loved him, but I don’t know that we ever really knew each other.”

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your father.”

“That’s probably the most I’ve ever really talked about it.”

“What would you change then?”

Scully tilted her head and squinted her eyes closed for a bit. “I think what I want, or what I would’ve wanted, is for my mother not to have made him so mythical. And I would’ve liked for Ahab to have acknowledged her more as an equal partner. Or even have acknowledged that she did more than he did.”

“They were happy though, weren’t they?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I think that counts for something.” Mulder paused and snorted when he read the next question. “Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.”

“This is a question that would probably be easier to answer if we were strangers.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I feel like I’d just be boring you with things you already know.”

“We could skip it, if you really wanted to.”

“It feels a little redundant, don’t you think?”

“Okay. Well, go ahead with the next one then.”

“12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained one quality or ability, what would it be?”

“Easy. I’ve always wanted to be able to be invisible at will so I can get into any place at any time.”

“I think they mean real ability though.”

“Why isn’t invisibility a real ability?”

“Because people can’t be invisible.”

“Oh, you really want to debate that?”

“Okay, okay. Then I want the ability to know all languages.”

“I guess that would be kind of cool. Not as cool as invisibility, but still.” He leaned over to bump his shoulder with hers and she rolled her eyes. “13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“I wouldn’t want to know the future, I know that much.”

“Why not?”

“It may not be something I like or want to hear. I think I would like to know where…” She stopped suddenly and sucked in her breath. He put a hand on her back and leaned forward to look at her. “I would like to know the truth of where Emily came from.”

“I’d like to know the truth about what happened to my sister.”

“Then again, Mulder, we may not like what we hear.”

He rubbed her back for a moment in a circle and then dropped his hand. She gave him a small smile and looked at the paper.

“14,” she said. Is there something that you've dreamt of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?”

“I did the thing I dreamed of doing a few years back.”

“What was it?”

“Visiting Graceland.”

“When did you visit Graceland?”

“Uh…” He gave her a sheepish look. “You were in Philly.”

“Ah. Well, lately I’ve been thinking about taking a cooking class or dance lessons-”

“Dance lessons! What kind of dance lessons?”

“Any kind. Or a painting class. Something that would put me in the world of other people doing normal things. As to why I haven’t done it, who has the time?”

Mulder was already racking his brain. It was too bad she didn’t mention wanting to learn baseball. He could teach her how to hit and they’d probably both have a lot of fun with it. She deserved some fun in her life. He looked over at her and saw she had a smear of mayonnaise on her cheek. Without thinking, he reached over and thumbed it off. It brought back memories of eating ribs and barbecue sauce on the corner of her mouth. She looked at him then like she was looking at him now, like a mixture of amusement and shyness, but she hadn’t pulled away then and she didn’t pull away now. He thought again about how grateful he was that she was still there beside him.

“Have you had enough?” Scully asked.

“Hm?”

“It’s your turn to ask.”

“Oh. 15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“Making it through the academy. In some ways, it was harder than med school.”

“Physically?”

“Mentally. Emotionally. I was one of only four women in my class. Two dropped out.”

“I never knew that.”

“Yeah, but I had the best shot out of all of them. That sure pissed some of those guys off.”

Mulder laughed and unconsciously rubbed the bullet wound in his shoulder.

“What’s your biggest accomplishment?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What about the monograph that put away Monte Propps? That had to be pretty satisfying, all that hard work and putting away a serial killer in the end?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It wasn’t satisfying?”

“I’d feel better about it if he hadn’t murdered 13 people first.”

“But your work stopped him from murdering even more. And it brought closure to the victim’s families. That has to mean something.”

“Alright, then that’s my biggest accomplishment.”

“It’s not about what I think though, Mulder, you’re supposed to tell me.”

He couldn’t tell her, though. He couldn’t sit there and tell her that his greatest accomplishment was that he hadn’t succeeded in pushing her away. So he just shrugged and agreed that Monte Propps was his greatest accomplishment and had to look away because he could tell she didn’t believe him.

“16,” she said, quietly. “What do you value most in a friendship?”

“Loyalty,” he said.

“Honesty,” she countered, giving him a raised eyebrow, which he ignored.

“Number 17. What is your most treasured memory?”

For a moment or two, Scully looked like she was going to call him out on the change of subject, but she relaxed the tight expression on her face and her eyes moved up in thought. “My parents woke us up early one morning, before the sun was even up, put us in the station wagon and told us to just go back to sleep, we were going to visit a cousin of ours or something. Turns out they were surprising us with a day at Disneyland. Pulling into that parking lot I felt like I’d never been so excited for something in my life.”

“I guess a kid never forgets his first trip to Disneyland.”

“Did you ever go?”

“No. We didn’t really do the family vacation thing. Summer’s on the island, that was it. Not that I’m complaining. I had a lot of fun back then.” He paused for a second. “Actually, I’m going to say that my most treasured memory involved summer vacation. I had my first kiss and the first time I held hands with a girl on the same day.”

“What was her name?”

“Jenny. Jenny Johnson. Her family lived on the island year round. She had a sister Samantha’s age. Becky, I think. Or Betsy? That I can’t remember, but she and Sam used to play together. I had to watch Sam, Jenny had to watch her sister as well, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. We got permission to take the girls to a carnival that was in town one day and, I took my chances and kissed her when we were on this haunted house ride. Well, first I put my arm around her when she screamed, because I’m smooth like that.”

Scully laughed out loud against her beer bottle and stopped just before she took a drink. “A real Don Juan at--how old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve. Keep going, I want the full story.”

“Well, it was the kind of ride where things pop out at you and stuff and at first it was a lot of surprise, but then it was just kind of silly, so we were laughing and just before the ride ended, I could kind of see in the dark that we were headed for the doors, and I just...leaned in and kissed her.”

“And then?”

“And then we were temporarily blinded by the sun, but when she blinked at me, she looked like the happiest anyone had ever looked to me. She grabbed my hand when we got out of the ride and we pretty much spent the rest of the day like that.”

“That isn’t really what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but not a sweet little summer romance.”

“Little is right. By the next day, all Sam could talk about was Fox and Jenny sittin’ in a tree, and I got pissed, and then Jenny got pissed that I was pissed and accused me of being embarrassed of dating an islander--I didn’t even know we were dating or what dating really was, and it that was pretty much the end of that. But, that day at the carnival. It was perfect.”

“I guess that’s a good segue into number 18. What is your most terrible memory?”

“Ah, well. I’m going to have to be predictable here and say the night Samantha...well…”

“Yeah. And I’ll say when I found out Melissa…”

“Kind of a shitty thing to have in common.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re empty,” Mulder said, nodding at Scully’s beer as she tipped her head back and drained the rest. “Another round?”

“I’ll pass.”

“If you change your mind, say the word.”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

“19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”

Scully went quiet, her thumb circling the lip of her empty beer bottle. Her gaze seemed to lack direction, like she was staring at nothing. The silence was so prolonged, Mulder became attuned to the jukebox again. Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams was playing.

“Bet you wish you had that third beer,” he said, uncomfortable with the stall in conversation.

A small smile lifted the corners of Scully’s lips, but she still didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to answer this one if you don’t want to,” Mulder said.

“I’ll answer. I’m just forming my thoughts.”

“Take your time.”

Another bout of silence passed and finally Scully sighed. “When I thought that I was going to die, when the cancer...when I thought I wouldn’t make it out of the hospital, I tried to make peace with the things I would never do. I didn’t want to leave this world with regrets. So, I...I wrote letters. To my mother. To my brothers. To...you. And then I realized how unfair that was, how selfish it was to write the things down I could never say, but not let you do the same. So, I tore them all up.”

His curiosity was instantly piqued. “What did they say?”

“Maybe if there’s a question in there about things unsaid, I’ll tell you. But, to answer this question, when I found out I was in remission, that I was going to be fine, I told myself it was a second chance at some of those things I’d always wanted to do. It’s been, what, two years? I don’t think I’ve done any of them.”

“Let’s change that. Let’s do something on your list.”

“Maybe none of it was as important as I thought it was, if I haven’t done them yet. Or maybe I just didn’t learn the lesson. No, I don’t think I would change anything about the way I’m living now. I’m happy enough with...everything.”

It was the ‘happy enough’ that struck Mulder. He had a notion that there might be one or two things she would change that she was holding back on, but he wasn’t going to push. It was a difficult question to answer and he was struggling himself to come up with something to say.

“All that really matters is whether or not I was a good person,” Scully continued. “Right? To...to God, to those left behind. That’s what’s going to matter in the end. Not whether or not I...I don’t know, walked the great wall of China or something.”

“Is that on your list?”

“No.” Scully laughed. “I was trying to think of a common bucket list item for most people.”

“I feel like the most common bucket list item would be jumping out of an airplane.”

“Okay, then. Is that really going to matter down the line?”

“Probably not. But, you’ll have a good story for the grandkids.”

“Ah, well.”

As soon as he said it, Mulder felt like an ass. He meant it as a figure of speech, but he realized too late that it would bring up some unpleasant truths. Scully would never have grandkids - unless by some miracle. And she didn’t even know the whole story. He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

“Uh, I think I’d do some things differently,” he said.

“Such as?”

“Get out of the office more. Do something fun on a Saturday night that doesn’t involve the gunmen starting arguments in internet chat rooms.”

“Is that what you guys do on the weekend?”

“Not every weekend.”

“Mulder, that’s just sad.”

“And what’re you doing on a Saturday night, Miss Scully? Laundry?”

“Alright, we both need lives.”

“I’d toast to that, but I’m out of beer, and I need to hit the head anyway.” He slid off the barstool and looked to the kid who was filling a drink order at the other end of the bar.

“You want me to order you another?”

“No, I’m good. Be right back.”

Mulder quickly used the restroom and stared at his reflection in the spotted, foggy mirror as he washed his hands. This was the most he’d ever really talked with Scully and he was enjoying himself. He wondered if he could find a way to make it a regular thing. Maybe then his Saturday nights wouldn’t feel so empty.

When he came back to the bar, he slowed his step. The remnants of their food had been taken away and there was a glass of iced tea in front of his seat. Scully looked like she was nursing a diet Coke.

“Didn’t want you to get parched,” she said, as he took a seat.

“Thanks.”

“So. Number 20. What does friendship mean to you?”

Mulder squeezed the wedge of lemon perched on the side of his glass into his tea. He thought about the gunmen, who he spent Saturday nights with or came to for help with technological problems, but didn’t confide all that much in. He thought about passing friendships he’d had in school or in the early days of work, people he went out for occasional beers with, but never saw outside the bullpen. And he thought about Scully, who he felt knew him inside and out and never held things he might have said in the heat of the moment against him, and ordered him iced tea because he might get thirsty.

“I guess it means everything to me,” he said. “I don’t know what I would do without…” He stopped short of specifying Scully by name, but by that point he was only thinking about his relationship with her. “Without someone to talk to,” he finished.

“Someone to rely on,” she said.

“Exactly. What about you?”

“That’s my answer. It means someone to rely on. I think everyone needs that in their life.”

“Agreed. 21. What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

Scully snorted and spoke into her glass. “Not nearly enough as I’d like.”

“Which part?”

“Both.” She sighed. “No, that’s not true. There is love in my life, though I’ll admit I could do better at it. And affection...is something I think I’ve always struggled with. I don’t dislike it, I’ve just never been very comfortable with it either.”

“So, you could use more love and try harder with affection?”

“Maybe. But, I think to answer the question I’d have to say, it probably doesn’t play as significant a role as it could, or even should.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why is it interesting?”

“Because I feel like you have so many people in your life that love you.”

“Who, my mother? My brothers?”

“Hey, that’s three more than I’ve got.”

“Mulder, I lo...I think you’re wrong about that.”

“Name them.”

“We’re off track. You haven’t answered yet.”

“I’m a big fan of love and affection. When it’s in my life, I think it’s pretty great. I wish it didn’t come and go so easily, because it’s hard not to have it. Sometimes I think I need it as much as I want it.”

“Maybe you’ll find it once you start living it up on Saturday nights.”

“Maybe you will too.”

“22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.”

“You are unbelievably smart.”

“I like how gentle you are.”

“Gentle?”

“When you deal with people in difficult situations. We discussed it however many questions ago. You’re very gentle and I like that about you. I’ve appreciated it in my own difficult situations.”

“Oh.” Mulder blinked. It gave him a warm feeling to know he’d done something Scully appreciated. “Um. You are the most dependable person I know.”

“You are the most passionate person I know.”

“Is that just codeword for stubborn?”

“Maybe.”

Mulder grinned. “What are we at, three? You are more warm than I think you give yourself credit for.”

Scully scrunched her face as though she disagreed.

“See,” he said.

“I think you always do things with the best of intentions.”

“You don’t take shit from anyone, especially me.”

“You…” She closed her eyes and her brows came together.

“Uh oh, I only have three good qualities?”

“I just want to phrase this right. You have an ability to empathize at will.”

“I’ll have to ponder that one later. Last one? I don’t know if I would call it stamina, but for all that you’ve endured, you get back up, you keep fighting, you’re still here, and you’re stronger every time. Resilience, maybe, but it’s more than that. It’s...you’re just incredible, Scully, you really are.”

Scully’s eyes grew glassy and wet. “Dammit, Mulder,” she muttered, wiping her knuckles across her lashes.

“If the next question is what are negative qualities your partner possesses, I’ll start with unable to take a compliment, how about that?”

In response, Scully gave Mulder’s bicep a shove and he laughed as he pretended to slip off his barstool. She wiped her eyes again and then took a drink.

“I admire your ability to be free with your feelings,” she said. “Next question.”

Not that free, Mulder thought, looking at the paper. “Number 23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?”

“Close-ish. Not very warm, but warm enough. I don’t think my childhood was more or less happy than anyone else’s. It was sufficient for me, maybe not so much for Charlie or Melissa.”

“What about Bill Jr.?”

“He thrived on routine and order, as you can imagine.” She smiled and then laughed softly. “He would probably say it was idyllic.”

“I’m going to have to say my childhood was less than idyllic, not warm and not close. I don’t think that will come as a surprise to you.”

“Was it always like that though? Even before your sister was…”

“It was tumultuous. I didn’t really know it at the time, I just thought everyone had parents who yelled at each other when they were together, or dads who worked all the time and hit them when they weren’t home when the streetlights came on. It took me a long time to realize it wasn’t great.”

Scully reached over and covered Mulder’s hand with hers, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry that you went through that.”

“I made peace with that a long time ago.”

She nodded and withdrew her hand. “Oh, nice follow up question. 24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”

Mulder sat back and sipped his iced tea. He pulled an ice cube into his mouth with his tongue and rolled it back and forth for a few moments before crunching down on it and shattering it into tiny pieces. When he was finished, he sucked in his bottom lip and scraped his teeth across it.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “I wish it weren’t. I think I’ve done a lot in my life to try to...to please her somehow, to make her proud, to protect her, to just...I don’t know. I’m not even sure she appreciates it, but I’ll do it anyway because she’s my mom. I don’t know if what I’ve done for her is out of love or obligation.”

“Sometimes it can feel like that same thing.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Mulder pulled another piece of ice into his mouth.

“I don’t think my mother and I understand each other very well. I know she wanted a different life for me, but also wanted me to forge my own path. I think she also thought at some point it would merge with her own ideals. She makes me feel guilty a lot for not being as present as she’d like me to be. I think our relationship is more about her than it is about me. I suppose that’s fine, but I’d also say she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.”

“Would you like it to be better?”

“Does it sound awful to say that I don’t think I need it to be?”

“Not if that’s the truth.”

“I don’t need it to be.”

“Okay then. Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "we are both in this room feeling..."

“That’s kind of a weird question. Okay, we are both FBI agents.”

“Oh, come on!”

“We eat together quite often, but it’s been a long time since we’ve had dinner together, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“And, we haven’t talked like this in a long time.”

“Have we ever?”

“There were some times back in the early days of our partnership where we dug a little deeper. Never to this extent, but we’ve had some moments.”

“We should do this more often. That’s my first we statement, by the way, and a general comment. We should do this more often. We make a great team. And we both enjoy the same beer.”

“26. Complete this sentence, "I wish I had someone with whom I could share..."

“Huh. I don’t know that there’s a lot I don’t share with you.”

“Well, that isn’t the question.”

“I know, but what I’m saying is...I mean, I don’t really feel like I’m not sharing something. If there’s something I want to share, I share it with you.”

“There’s got to be something though.” She shook her head dismissively. “You share your slideshows and your theories and your strange depth of knowledge, but not…”

“Not what?”

“I don’t know, life things. What are life things that people share? Intimate things. Their...toothbrushes, their inner demons, their beds, their hopes for the future.”

“Is that your answer? Is that what you want to share with someone?”

“Of course I do, but at the same time, absolutely not.”

“I think we’ve shared some hopes with each other, and definitely demons. As for toothbrushes and beds, just say the word.”

“Are you telling me that you feel fulfilled right now?”

Mulder was momentarily tongue-tied and stuttered out an answer. “I don’t think I can say I feel unfulfilled Are there things I want? Sure. Intimate things? Yeah. I think that desiring emotional or even physical intimacy is a different question from what would I like to share with someone?”

“I think it’s the same.”

“And I would argue that saying I want someone to share a meal with at the end of every day is completely separate from saying I wish I had someone to hold me every night. Both answers imply a desire for intimacy, but a meal is a shared experience and the other is somewhat selfish. So, personally, I don’t interpret the question in that way, but if you want to qualify it and remove ‘share’ from the equation, I wish I had someone with whom I could spend a night with and would still be there in the morning. Absolutely.”

An extended silence followed, one in which Mulder could feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. He never intended to lay the burden of his ache for intimacy at her feet. Not like that. And now it was out in the ether and he couldn’t take it back. Sure, he could make a self-deprecating joke about it, but then it might devalue the whole purpose of the questionnaire. He wished he could tell what she was thinking, but her face was shadowed, her expression hidden by the angle of her chin, down and away.

“Alright,” Scully finally said. “You make a valid point. But, I would like to add that I believe the examples you’ve given can also be a shared experience. You can want someone to share a night with, and then wake up and share the morning as well.”

“Then the most basic answer would always be that you want someone to share your life with.”

“That’s true, but...”

“And I also think in order to be shared, it has to be reciprocated as well. You have to give of yourself, but you have to be willing to receive as well.”

“I suppose if you’re not willing to open yourself up like that, it wouldn’t be a whole life, it would be half a life.”

“I didn’t say I was unwilling.”

“Well, I didn’t either.” She hesitated on her next breath and then laughed a little. “And I honestly don’t even know what the point is that we’re trying to make anymore.”

Mulder sighed silently in relief that the tension he felt was bubbling had burst with her laughter and then hesitantly turned the paper towards him. “Uh, number 27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.”

“I’m sure you already know this, but I don’t open up very often. And I don’t do need very well.”

“I know tonight is an anomaly. That we probably won’t discuss it in the morning, or ever again. It doesn’t have to be that way though.”

She shifted in her seat and tucked her hair back over her ear. “Just answer the question.”

“I’d need her to know that I can be a bit of a stubborn asshole. And that sometimes I am blinded by need and I don’t make the best decisions.”

“28. Tell your partner what you like about them: be honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.”

“That implies I wasn’t being honest the last time I answered the question.”

“Maybe for strangers they could only answer more superficially until they got to know each other.”

“What, things like, I like your eyes or your hair or the way the top of your nose moves when you speak?”

Scully reached up and touched the bridge of her nose between her brows almost self-consciously and then brought her hand down just as quickly and wrapped it around her glass. “I think we can skip this one, unless you feel like there’s something you left out.”

“I do like more than three things about you, Scully.” He smiled and leaned into her teasingly. “But, if your quota was met earlier we can move on.”

“I do happen to like that stubbornness of yours. Just so you know.”

“You do?” He leaned back and scrutinized her, genuinely surprised. “Why?”

“You don’t give up easily, whether it’s on cases or on people. It’s that steadfast determination that gets you results where others may not.”

“I might have to remind you of this the next time you tell me to let something go. 29. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.”

“I was quite bookish in school.”

“No!”

Scully gave Mulder a flash of a scowl. “I won an award for a state science fair when I was in sixth grade, of which I was very proud of, but you know, other kids don’t really appreciate that kind of thing.”

“Kids are jerks.”

“No one would’ve ever had to know, but the principal read it over the PA in our morning announcements and well...it was bad enough that attention was called to it, but for the rest of the school year, this kid, Stevie, would salute me every time I walked into class and called me Dr. Nerd.”

“Uh, not to diminish your feelings, but Stevie’s the one who should be embarrassed. That’s the lamest nickname anyone has ever come up with in the history of nicknames.”

“Any nickname earned, however lame, can seem like the worst insult in the world when you’re ten.”

“True. I bet you can rest assured that Stevie hasn’t gone on to much success in life.”

“Who knows.”

“Well, contrary to what you might believe, I was not always as agile and suave as I am today.”

“Oh, is that what I believe?”

“I was also ten in my story and I was at a birthday party at a skating rink for arguably the prettiest girl in school, but I was a pretty lousy skater. I made it one round around the rink, mostly holding on to the side, and when I let go and tried to participate in the skate chain, I went ass over elbows in front of the entire class, but all I cared about was that I’d just ate shit in front of Cindy Palmer.”

Scully started laughing before he’d even made it to the punchline, like she might know what was coming. She made a sympathetic noise over her chuckles. “That’s terrible,” she stuttered and giggled at the same time. “I’m so sorry.”

“Childhood is rough. The smallest things seem like the end of the world.”

“That they do.”

“Lay the next one on me, Dr. Nerd.”

Scully gave Mulder a soft kick on the shin with the side of her foot. “When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?”

“Few weeks ago when you went to get cleaned up after…” He gestured to his chest. “Padgett.”

“That would be my answer for both parts of that question.”

“I don’t have a real hang-up about crying in front of people. I can’t really remember the last time, but I’m sure it was you.”

“Fair enough. 31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already. Oh come on, we’ve answered this about six times.”

“Skip it. Number 32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”

“Death of a child.”

“I was gonna say nothing is too serious, but I’m going to agree with you there.”

“Number 33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?”

“Wow. Um…”

“Yeah, this one might be a little…”

“I think I need a minute.”

“Take your time.”

The first thing that came to Mulder’s mind was that he would tell Scully how much she meant to him, but it conjured up memories from his hallway and really he’d already said what he’d needed her to hear. He could reiterate it right here, right now, but it didn’t feel like the right time, to say it only because he was being prompted by a silly questionnaire. If she were a stranger, he would answer honestly, that he had communicated those things one time, he just wished it wasn’t one of those things they didn’t talk about. He chose a different option instead, one that was still truthful, but felt less necessary for him.

“I would want to tell my mother that I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for her,” he said. “Couldn’t find my sister and couldn’t make her happy. As to why I haven’t already told her, well there’s a big part of me that knows it isn’t my fault and that I’ve done everything I could.”

“It isn’t your fault. You have done everything you could, more than enough, Mulder.”

“Logically, yes, I know that. And I shouldn’t have to apologize for it, but I still feel compelled.”

Scully curled her hand over Mulder’s forearm and let it rest there for a few quiet moments. He gave her an appreciative smile and then put his hand over hers. He expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. They stayed like that until the loud scrape of a barstool across the floor broke the solace. He reached for his iced tea and she leaned back on her stool.

“I can’t answer the question,” Scully said, her voice almost at a whisper. “There are reasons that...I just can’t.”

Mulder shrugged. “You don’t need to explain it. It’s just a silly questionnaire.”

She looked down and plucked at the skin next to her thumbnail. “It’s not silly and I should...I lack the courage to...it’s because I lack courage that I can’t answer.”

“You can have half a point for answering the second part of the question.”

She looked up at him and there was pain in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if her anguish was from not being able to answer, or what she would answer if she could. He reached over and swept his hand up and down her back a few times.

“You’re the most courageous person I know,” he said. “That won’t change.”

“Yet I can’t even answer a simple question.”

“It’s not that simple. Let’s just do the next one, we’re almost done. Number 34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be and why?”

“I want you to know that I want to answer it, Mulder. I do.”

“Answer it when it’s the right time, Scully. You’re gonna be around a long time.”

In the silence that followed the deep and uncertain breath Scully took, Mulder changed the format of the questionnaire and just answered.

“Well, since it says I’ve already gotten my fish to safety,” he said. “I think I’d have to rescue my lamp.”

Scully cleared her throat. “Your lamp?”

“My Saturn lamp. My grandfather - my mother’s father, the only grandparent I ever met - got it for me when I was about four or five. It was my nightlight when I was a kid.”

“That’s adorable, Mulder.”

“I mean, I think the couch is pretty unreasonable and I can get a basketball anywhere.”

“No, it’s a good choice. I’d take a photo album I have that was given to me by my grandmother.”

“Mom’s side or dad’s side?”

“Dad’s.”

“Also pretty irreplaceable.”

“Yeah.”

“We went out of order, so go ahead with the next one.”

Scully hesitated when she turned the paper closer and there was a slight hitch in her breath. “I think we’ve already answered this as well,” she answered, and then pushed the paper over to Mulder.

“35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why? I guess in my case missing might as well be dead and even if your sister hadn’t-”

“I wasn’t going to answer with Melissa,” she interrupted. “It was awful, yes. It’s one of the worst things I’ve been through. But, it’s not the worst thing.”

Mulder puzzled over her answer for a moment and almost had to ask if she was referring to her father or mother, but it dawned on him suddenly and he pressed his lips together in a tight line. The death of a child is a very serious thing. He never really knew the true extent of her feelings about Emily because she wouldn’t share them, but he knew she was mired in silent grief for some time. There had been a real lack of joy in her in the months that followed, one he thought had never really returned.

“It never occurred to me,” Mulder said. “To think that…”

“I didn’t think it would. Actually, it didn’t occur to me either until just now.”

“I don’t think I ever told you how sorry I was.”

“It isn’t you who should be sorry. And you were right, it was never meant to be.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“No. You were right. It doesn’t mean I didn’t want her, wouldn’t have gladly taken her, quit the FBI, moved to a tiny town somewhere in the hopes that no one could get to her, but the circumstances were what they were. Even if there was a way to treat her, the price would have been too great, I think, and it would’ve just been buying a piece of time. I’ve been trying to accept that as fact. Some days I can, some days I can’t.”

“Grief doesn’t really follow a strict timeline.”

“Sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m grieving; if it’s for her or the idea of her. The loss of what I don’t have.”

“Maybe it’s both. Do you want…”

“A child? I’m not even sure. I know I’m angry that the choice was taken away from me, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to explore my options or if I’ll ever be. On the other hand, I can hear it ticking.”

“Are we talking about the proverbial biological clock here?”

“Tick. Tick. Tick. Sometimes faintly, sometimes loudly, reminding me that I’m not getting any younger.”

“Well, if you ever do decide to explore those options, I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

Scully tipped her head and gazed at him sideways. “I’ll remember that,” she said. “If I ever reach a conclusion.”

Part of him felt this conversation was an opening to come clean about the full truth of her missing ova, but he wasn’t going to do that to her if she hadn’t even decided she wanted a child. He didn’t want to hurt her unnecessarily further if the verdict was still out. It was a burden he’d held for such a long time and he wasn’t keen on making it hers as well, even if it was technically her burden. He would rather carry that cross for her and never let her know he was carrying it if he didn’t have to.

“So,” she said, sitting up taller and shaking off the melancholy that had settled momentarily on her shoulders. “We went out of order again kind of. Go ahead with the last one.”

“Okay, final question. Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.”

“Well, I can’t seem to get my laundry done when I need it because my partner is always keeping me out nights.”

“Send it out to a service. That’s what I do.”

She smiled. “Just give me a minute, I’ll think of something.”

“Maybe you’re lucky enough to be problem-free. Laundry aside.”

“The only pressing issue I can really think of is how to tell my brother I’d rather not visit for the 4th of July. He’s been sort of pestering me to come out, but if I decide to take a vacation this summer, I’d rather do something relaxing.”

“Like going to Maine?”

“Not Maine.”

“It’s Stephen King territory, Scully, you should’ve known you’d find a possessed doll up there the minute you set foot in the state.”

“Does that mean I’d have better or worse chances of an x-file finding me on a tiny island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

“That probably depends on how close to the Bermuda Triangle you plan to be. But, a tropical island? Really?”

“Might be nice to lay in a hammock and read a book or two.”

“You mean highlight your latest edition of JAMA.”

“At least I’d be on a beach while I’m at it.”

“Blame it on me. Even if you didn’t, I’m sure Bill would do it for you, so just give him the satisfaction of being right as you let him down easy.”

“I’m not gonna blame you to spare his feelings. You don’t deserve that.”

“I guess you can go with the truth then. Just tell him you need a break. You’re using up your days off for some much needed alone time.”

“That’s probably all I can do, but I know he won’t understand.”

“Then that’s his problem.”

“And now I’m supposed to ask you how I feel about this dilemma?”

“Still on the fence, I’d say. You’re gonna want more time to mull it over and probably put it off a bit longer.”

“Correct.”

“Here’s my problem. I want to ask my partner if she’d entertain the idea of coming into the office tomorrow morning, not all day or anything, just for a little while. But, I know she has all that laundry to do that she could send out, and curling up in the titillating world of JAMA, and I certainly don’t want to take that away from her.”

Scully groaned.

“See, big problem,” he said.

“I need more information. Why do you want your partner to come in tomorrow? What could you possibly want to do in the office on a Saturday when we don’t have something taking us out of town?”

“I ordered some Roswell newspaper volumes from archives about a month ago and they finally came in.”

“Newspapers. From Roswell.”

“The 1940s. Wouldn’t it be fun to peruse old-timey articles about mysterious lights in the sky and government cover-ups?”

Scully groaned again.

“Any advice for this problem of mine?”

“Yes. Don’t ask.”

“I hear it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

“So.”

“So she won’t be missing anything by staying indoors. What if I offered to buy her lunch?”

“Not good enough.”

“Breakfast?”

“Not listening.”

“Snacks from the vending machine every hour?”

“Your problem is going to wear a hole in your pocket.”

“Is now a good time to reflect on how I’m feeling?”

“There’s an air of desperation about you. You’re still wondering how best to wear me down, and you know it’s only a matter of time before I say yes, but you’ll still be wondering if I’ll show up until I walk in tomorrow morning.”

“Does that mean my problem is solved?”

“It means you’ll have to wait to find out until tomorrow morning.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“There’s something else on this paper.” Scully furrowed her brow and pushed the paper towards Mulder while keeping her fingers on it. “Instructions.”

“You’ve reached the end of the questions. The final task is to stare silently into your partner’s eyes for four minutes. It’s important to finish with this step. Some people have described this step as thrilling and terrifying. Good luck.”

“You’ve got to me kidding me.”

“We don’t have to.”

“You know I’m not going to leave something half-assed.”

“I just thought it was fun questions.”

Scully sighed and then downed the rest of her watery Diet Coke. She dropped the glass down on the bar with more force than necessary and turned on the stool to face Mulder.

“Got a timer on your watch?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Set it.”

He did as she asked and then laid his arm down on the bar so she could see it. She grabbed his wrist and after a glance, let him go and rested her arm in front of his, glancing her fingers off of his as she pulled away.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Go.”

Mulder only glanced down to start the timer and then he met her gaze. It was awkward at first, with her looking so defiant and both unaccustomed to really looking that purposefully at each other when they weren’t debating a casefile. Her face finally softened a bit and she gave a small tilt of her head as though she was trying to read something off of him. He hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts in that moment, that was for sure.

Just before she tilted her head, her eyelids dropped in a half-blink and then opened again and he saw in her what he felt like he was on the verge of really seeing in his hallway two years ago, but had tamped down. He envisioned himself rising from his stool, kicking it out of the way, taking her face in his hands, pushing his fingers through her hair, and kissing her for all he was worth, once and for all. He felt his lips part in anticipation, licked them closed, and swallowed.

Suddenly, Scully’s eyes turned glassy and she looked away, pulling back from him with a slight slump, but he reached out and touched her arm, laying his hand down over hers and she blinked back up at him. She looked terrified, but he dipped his head a little and tried to tell her it was alright by widening his eyes just a little and nodding. He understood. This was not a game. He wanted her to know he was sincere and grateful that she did this with him. He cherished her answers. He cherished that she listened. Above all, he simply cherished all of her.

Four minutes could feel like a lifetime. By the time Mulder’s watch went off, Scully looked a little less afraid, but she quickly averted her eyes again at the sound of the beep and pulled her hand out from under his. He didn’t turn away though, and blindly silenced his watch. She stared at the rows of alcohol above the back of the bar until he cleared his throat and swiveled forward in his seat.

“So, we should do this more often,” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered, with a slight scoff. She turned her head towards him though, smiled softly, and then looked down at her lap. “I did have a nice time.”

“I’m glad. Let me get the check and we’ll get out of here.”

He helped her into her coat after he’d paid and then slung his own over his shoulder. Twilight had set in and the streets were quiet. They stopped under a street lamp in front of her apartment, near her car. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her feet for a few moments.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said.

“Don’t forget, my offer for breakfast, snacks, and lunch still stands.”

“It’s possible I won’t turn it down. It’s also possible I will.”

“I know, you’re always trying to keep me guessing.”

“Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?”

“Always.”

Scully smiled and he realized he’d seen her smile more tonight than he had in years. It looked good on her. On impulse, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek, nearly catching the corner of her smile. Her eyes followed his retreat and the slight upturn of her lips was still in place.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“Just because. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or Monday.”

“What if I were to want something from the deli on 13th and E?”

“Done.”

“I’ll add it to the things to consider.”

Mulder turned and took a few steps on his tip-toes towards his car. He heard Scully chuckle and he gave her one last glance over his shoulder. He made a promise to himself in that moment to surprise her with something fun, something she’d least expect. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he’d think of something.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #mulder #scully #msr #ust #friendship #The Unnatural #pre-ep #don't read the study first if you don't want spoilers

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essenceoffilm · 6 years

Text

Through the Melancholy of the Passage of Time

He might have been compared to a summer’s day, particularly the last hours of one [1]

“To walk down memory lane” is a clever English idiom since it combines the psychological act of reminiscence with the concrete, physical act of walking down the lane. Its aptness stems from the fact that we humans tend to remember spatially. Memories may or may not be easily localized in the brain, but their mental content is often tied to spaces or, specifically, lived spaces, the way we experience them, to borrow a term from Juhani Pallasmaa [2]. The lane is a term that denotes a type of space, a part of the roadway, and, in the idiomatic expression of walking down memory lane, the spatial term has a temporal twist to it as the space of the lane refers to the past. The lane connotes home, family, and childhood. The sweetness of the nostalgia for these things can make one lose themselves on memory lane. This is essentially what happens to Ned Merrill, the hapless protagonist of Frank Perry’s The Swimmer (1968).

The Swimmer is based on the short story of the same name by John Cheever, “the Chekhov of suburbs,” which director Frank Perry’s wife, Eleanor Perry turned into a screenplay. Cheever’s short story tells of Ned Merrill, a married man and a father, who, while spending a lazy Sunday by the swimming pool of his neighbors’ domicile, decides to swim from their place to his house by using the many pools of their bourgeois neighborhood. As Ned starts to get closer to his home, pool by pool, he begins to realize that he is swimming down the poignant memory lane. In other words, Ned starts to realize that he seems to exist in a different time from the rest of the world. He is clinging to the past of having a decent family life before an apparent divorce, debts, and loss of home. When neighbors and friends remind Ned of this, he seems totally oblivious. “We’ve been terribly sorry to hear about all your misfortunes, Neddy,” an elderly couple of the Hallorans tells the protagonist in Cheever’s short story; “Why, we heard that you’d sold the house and that your poor children...” [3]. After hearing about the bypass surgery of his old friend, Ned is puzzled. “Was he losing his memory,” the third-person narrator wonders about Ned’s predicament, “had his gift for concealing painful facts let him forget that he had sold his house, that his children were in trouble, and that his friend has been ill?” [4]. Not until the very end, when Ned is confronted by his empty, closed, and run-down old house, does the concrete of the lane hit Ned straight in the face.

Perry’s film adaptation preserves the core ideas as well as the basic structure of Cheever’s short story, but it also makes some significant changes to externalize, so to speak, the story that operates mainly on the level of inner life. These changes manifest in the form of added dialogue, new characters, and additional action. For example, there are, most notably, two significant characters added to the film who do not appear in the original short story: Julie, played by Janet Landgard, the young woman who had a crush on Ned when she worked as a babysitter for his children in the past, and Shirley, played by Janice Rule, the neighbor with whom Ned had an extra-marital affair in the past. Both of these character additions are used to highlight Ned’s alienation from both his family life and the present in general. Julie is shocked by Ned’s obliviousness to their age difference and runs away after Ned makes a pass on her. Shirley, on the other hand, is utterly frustrated by the sudden return of Ned’s desires and locks herself out from him. They live in the present and they react negatively to Ned’s inability to do so. The film also removes Ned’s wife, Lucinda, whose name is carried by the “Lucinda river” of the pools Ned swims through, who makes a brief appearance in the beginning of the short story where Ned is hanging by the pool of the Westerhazys, one of their neighbors. This change might, I believe, actually improve Cheever’s original idea because it emphasizes the absence of Ned’s family -- also elaborating the idea that the two have divorced (which may or may not be the case in the short story). Overall, this beginning scene has a lot of dialogue in it compared to its minimalist concision in the original text. After gazing at the Lucinda river, Ned talks about his plans to the people around him and converses about other matters, while the short story has barely enough lines to fill one page.

Since the film has additional character and new dialogue, it is bound to face the question how the characters and their manners of speech should be dealt with since the original text does not provide a point of departure. Perry’s bold move is to use overly punctuated, exaggerated, and theatrical acting which creates an ironic distance between the characters and the audience. While at first glance the contemporary spectator might simply see these as emblematic of poor production values during the New Hollywood phase, Burt Lancaster’s campish performance as the constantly smiling Ned in his youthful swimming trunks gains a poignant melancholy to it as the film goes on. There is a similar sadness to his relentless smile as there is in Setsuko Hara’s tendency to force a smile in Ozu’s elegiac Late Spring (1949, Banshun).

In addition to characters and extended dialogue, Perry’s film also creates new scenes to the story. There is, for one, the scene where Ned swims through an empty swimming pool, dedicated to swim through all of them, with a young boy. An obvious visual metaphor for Ned’s useless attempt to project his fantasy of the preserved past on the dry present, the scene feels a little awkward and out of place, but, at the same time and as such, essential to the unique film. The scene with Ned running by the side of a horse and the scene where he and Julie run through an obstacle course, both of which are not in the original short story, are so strange and awkward that their displacement makes the spectator wonder why in the world were they added to the film. There is charm to their awkwardness, however, as there is to the rest of the film’s New Hollywood aesthetics of unnecessary zooms and slow-motion.

Although Cheever’s short story is not completely exhausted by subjective interiority, since it has dialogue as a source of additional information beyond Ned’s deluded perspective and it is, one might add, told from the third-person perspective of an omniscient narrator, its epistemic connection to Ned’s perspective is stronger than that of the film. This is mainly due to the primal difference between literature and cinema since the latter can hardly escape its realism and attachment to the concrete. Fortunately, Perry realizes and embraces this, taking advantage of cinema’s prized abilities. After all, Ned’s action of swimming through the river of pools is bound to the concrete; it is bound to bodily activities and real spaces of memory lane.

This change in narrative perspective is already eminent during the opening credits. Perry uses shots of a forest in autumn, including a shot of an owl, emblematic of the “last hours” of Ned’s “summer day,” which hints to the attentive spectator that it is already autumn rather than the summer. In Cheever’s short story, this is revealed only toward the very end. Thus Perry’s film elaborates the build-up to the revelation of Ned’s detachment from the reality of the present to the fantasy of the past.

The film is, however, rooted in Ned’s epistemic perspective and most of the diegetic information provided by the cinematic narration is shared by Ned and the audience. All the information that challenges Ned’s delusion comes from what other characters say directly to Ned so he also, at the very least, receives that information (even if he does nothing with it). Perry also uses such cinematic means as prolonged dissolves, zooms, slow-motion, and point of hearing to reflect the subjective perspective. The shot, which superimposes a close-up of Ned’s face with the landscape of the Lucinda river at the moment when Ned decides to swim through it, is a perfect example of subjectivization without a point of view shot. The same could be said of the beautiful shots of Ned and Julie walking in the woods, where Julie talks about her past crush on Ned. The shots are either out of focus or the characters are in the background, which is out of focus, as the foreground is dominated by flowers and trees in focus.

Resonating with the beginning shots of nature in autumn, the film ends with a startling change in narrative perspective. Although Ned’s discovery of the emptiness of his house (signifying that he did, in fact, lose it) is told from the third-person perspective in the short story, it is also specifically said that Ned sees the emptiness of his house: “He shouted, pounded on the door, tried to force it with his shoulder, and then, looking in at the windows, saw that the place was empty” [5]. In Cheever’s text, it is Ned who looks in at the windows. In Perry’s film, on the contrary, Ned arrives at the door and desperately shouts and pounds it, but he never looks in at the window. Instead, there is a cut from Ned by the door in long medium shot to a medium shot of a hole in one of the windows. A slow zoom-in toward the hole is followed by a cut to a reverse shot of the window from the inside of the house where the camera pans to the left, disclosing the sheer emptiness of an abandoned domicile, ending up at the closed door that is being pounded by Ned. A final cut returns us to Ned by the door, outside. Although there is no sudden change in narrative perspective or “ocularization,” because the shots of Ned by the door are not subjective point of view shots either, there is nonetheless an unprecedented change in perspective because the spectator, for the first time, sees something that Ned does not. Obviously, the spectator has already began to “see” further than Ned, but here such seeing becomes literal. The device is, however, brilliantly not in violation of the rest of the film (especially if the opening credits sequence is taken to account, but without it as well) nor even of the short story (even if such a violation only mattered to people to whom books are holy sacraments not to be misrepresented by adaptations) because it still reflects Ned’s experience. Standing by the door, pounding and shouting, Ned realizes his delusion, his self-betrayal, and the overall emptiness of his existence. It is cinematic free indirect discourse, something whose literary counterpart is prevalent in Cheever’s short story.

As Ned falls to the ground before the indifferent door, his demise is perpetuated by freezing the frame, a typical cinematic device of the period. Following Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (1959, Les quatre cents coups), George Roy Hill’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), a key film of the New Hollywood movement, ends with a freeze-frame of interrupted movement, but Perry’s The Swimmer did it first. The film is overall rife with New Hollywood aesthetics from the slow-motion shots of running in the obstacle course (as well as the existence of the scene in general!) to the zoom-ins to close-ups of human faces and the long shots of Ned and Julie walking out of focus. Where the lack of focus enhances the melancholic and nostalgic atmosphere, the slow-motion shots (not only of running but also of swimming) and the freeze-frame articulate the theme of movement: time is, quite literally, slowing down in Ned’s experience, and it freezes when he meets the wall putting a stop to his painful denial of death.

Due to its existential tone, The Swimmer resides in the spheres of the films of Antonioni and Fellini. Like La dolce vita (1960) or La notte (1961), however, The Swimmer also has its social dimensions. The whole idea of an urban terrain filled with pools and rife with water seem to carry critical echoes, which are only emphasized by the scene, which one could see as being developed into an accumulating gag by someone like Jacques Tati, where a couple commends their recently installed filter in their pool that removes 99.99% of all excessive material from the water. Its satirical edge is never too sharp to notice, however, and it is constantly softened by the film’s elegiac ubiquity.

An existentialist parable, Perry’s The Swimmer externalizes the inner life of its protagonist by adding dialogue and characters as well as by utilizing cinematic means and changes in narrative perspective. As such, it surmounts the dull “quality” adaptation. This externalization is more than appropriate because, just like the metaphor of memory lane, both Cheever and Perry have realized that memories are not only temporal but also spatial; they attach to places, environments, and our bodily activities in them. Maybe Ned decides to swim through the pools because swimming in pools and walking in his trunks remind him of summer and carefree existence with his family. In the end, what would be a better allegory for these mechanisms of memory and nostalgia, where space and time coalesce, than a seemingly consistent chain created by pools separated by yards, fences, and lanes?

The original poster for The Swimmer advertised the film by presenting the customer with a rhetorical question: “When you talk about The Swimmer, will you talk about yourself?” Despite the awkward, campy clumsiness of the expression, which actually fits with some of the charm of Perry’s film, it was hard not to think about myself when I walked out of the cinema into the excessively warm summer evening. It is a cinema from which I have walked out for thousands of times ever since I was a 16-year-old. It is also a beautiful, old art deco cinema from the days of silent cinema that is currently being left behind by its long-time tenant, the Finnish film archive. Walking out from the cinema into the more than familiar streets of Helsinki, there was a call in the air to take a stroll down memory lane.

Notes:

[1] Cheever, John. 1964. “The Swimmer”. In The Brigadier and the Golf Widow. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, p. 62.

[2] Pallasmaa, Juhani. 2007. The Architecture of Image: Existential Space in Cinema. Helsinki: Rakennustieto.

[3] Cheever 1964, p. 71.

[4] Ibid. p. 72.

[5] Ibid. p. 76.

#The Swimmer #Frank Perry #American #1960's

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toobadforthefacts · 7 years

Text

Louis, Harry, Family and Friends’ Denials of Larry (as a Whole or as a Theory) and Confirmation of Elounor

(@seirral4) [Updated 13/08/2017]

[DISCLAIMER: this post has been recreated due to 1arry-isnt-rea1′s deactivation. Everything has been compiled and written by them, except when stated otherwise: the version retrieved was old, so some debunks went missing, and the situation needed to be mended. Also some links were updated, some denials reorganized, and some lexicon actualized: Larry Shippers --> Larries to avoid confusion. Give credit when you share some else’s contents.]

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Larries seem to think Harry and Louis have not denied Larry. They have, yet Larries still make up excuses for it.

I wanted to make a post showing all family or friends who have denied Larry at some point. This post is not only Larry denials, but confirmations of Elounor or denials of a theory of Larry (i.e. tattoos and such).

I never see people talk about most of these denials.

Guess why?

Like I have always said, Larries only see what they want to. They ignore everything that disproves or doesn’t support their ship.

I can also hear every Larrie scream, “THEY DIDN’T SAY ‘LARRY ISN’T REAL’ THOUGH."

That is a USELESS excuse. They do not need to say those three words to convey the same message. If that is your excuse for everything you will see in this post, you are helpless and clueless. Do not bother reading.

Lastly, if you are a Larrie and consider anyone in this post "irrelevant,” just remind yourself that you believe day old Twitter accounts who claim to have seen Larry with no proof. Everyone in this post has met the boys multiple times, is a good friend of the boys, or are family members. Not random people behind a screen who can easily make up lies.

[Image and video heavy.]

***Quick Note: I will post old screenshots if the reply was hard to find on my iPhone version of Twitter. Sometimes it just shows his or her tweet (which I would specifically search for) but not the original tweet he or she had replied to, then I will also post a screenshot on the current version of Twitter to show it is real. If the current version of Twitter shows both the fan’s tweet and his or her reply, I will only post that.

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Stanley Lucas

Stanley had replied to Louis’ tweet about Eleanor and his anniversary. Shortly after that, Stanley’s started replying to Larries who were spamming and harassing him with tweets talking about how Larry is real and Elounor is fake.

He started by just replying with “weird” to fans. Then he tweeted the following picture:

This tweet has been deleted. If you are doubting whether or not it’s real, go type in his tweet and @ name. There are tons of quoted tweets from that day on that time. It was real.

He then tweeted the following:

He continued to reply to many fans about different things. I’m only showing the ones about Larry or Elounor. In the following screenshot, you will see the fan’s question and his answer.

Next, the screenshot is of the current version of Twitter. You can look up this tweet yourself to verify that it is real.

He continued on and on. Here is yet another.

Once again, here is the screenshot from the current version of twitter.

The Larries really did harass him that day. He continues on.

Love how he called the theory of Larry “rubbish.” Now here is the screenshot form the current version of Twitter.

Then one fucking idiot said believing in Larry was an opinion, and Stan was wrong even though he has known Louis for years. He replied to her as well.

Now the current screenshot.

One again, he replied to a Larrie. This time it included Harry.

I could not find the tweet to take a current screenshot when I searched for it. I didn’t scroll through his account. I don’t know if it was deleted or not, but it was real. There are many quoted tweets from it on the same day and time.

In the next one, he tells a Larrie how crazy her theory is.

Then he continues to tell Larries that Louis is straight because they are STILL NOT GETTING IT.

Once again, he sets Larries straight on the difference between a fact and an opinion.

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Max Hurd

Max Hurd is one of Eleanor’s best friends. As far as I can tell, she has known him before she met Louis or around the same time.

On September 9, 2012, a Larrie harassed him by calling Eleanor a beard. He had the following conversation with them.

If you don’t believe this happened, feel free to search up the tweets. They are still there and ver underrated. Almost no one even noticed this conversation.

Next one. On February 27, 2014, Max again replied to a Larrie who assumed Eleanor was his girlfriend. Apparently, if you are a girl and a boy, you can’t be friends without people thinking you’re fucking. He replied with this:

Again, this got barely any attention. I wonder why. Once again, feel free to search up the tweets. They are still there.

Now let’s move on to Max’s Instagram comments. I will first post a screenshot of the picture the comments are located on, so those who want to look them up themselves can. Then I will post a screenshot of the comment he replied to and his reply.

Yes, this is his real Instagram. He has had it forever, and he is constantly uploading new pictures.

These screenshots confirm Elounor more than deny Larry, but just wait, those are coming up.

I like how he added the, “Deluded, weird, blocked,” at the end there.

These are really funny to me because the whole Gretchen and Tina thing is beyond hilarious.

Anyways, again, he does not have to say “Larry isn’t real” to tell you the same thing. Also, he only confirms Elounor once again. How many times has he done that so far?

“I am not going to answer any of your larry bullshit because I actually cannot get my head around how screwed up and cruel you are to accuse my friend of being hired to be someone’s girlfriend.”

“You need to open your eyes and stop seeing what you want to see and realize what is actually there. Which is a long term relationship between two people who love each other."

”…so piece together some weird fantasy for yourself"

Larries, look up the word fantasy if you don’t understand how this is a denial.

Next.

All of these started because Larries continued to harass Max about “Gretchen” and “Tina” even though he has already addressed it.

Max comments “Y'all need Jesus,” so a Larry Shipper comments, “Max needs to get dick out his ass and be more mature and Jesus isn’t real so no one needs him.”

Max then replies with, “Neither is 'Larry’ so you need to find a different obsession to waste your life on.”

DID YOU READ THAT, LARRiES? He just told you Larry isn’t real without using those words. Stop using your bullshit excuse of needing those three words in the same order.

Last one, finally.

Before anyone loses their shit, he did mentioned the girl again and apologized for the “Die in a hole you fucking peasant” part.

Anyways, he again does not say the exact words, “Larry isn’t real” but I think, “something that is as real as the tooth fairy” is descriptive enough for Larries to get the point.

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Sasha Malik

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Julian Bunetta

Julian is one of the boys’ songwriters and producers.

No, he does NOT work for Modest. He would work under the label.

Yes, this is his twitter.

No, he is not verified, but the boys have mentioned him in tweets before.

In the first screenshot, a fan is annoying Julian with questions as to whether Larry is real or not. He replied:

This is a perfect example of something I said at the beginning of the post.

No, he did not say “Larry isn’t real”, however he said it in a different way. You guys do realize what the word “imaginary” means, correct?

Also, if Larry was real, he would not have responded. He has no obligation to reply to fans on Twitter. He gets tons of questions, especially when he begins answering many fans at once. He did NOT have to answer, but he choose to. I wonder why.

This tweet is still there, you can look it up if you would like.

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Simon Jones of Hackford Jones PR

I could not find exactly what Simon’s job title is. He definitely works at HJPR, he might even own it since his last name is in the company’s name. Regardless, his role at the company is a very important one. On July 19, 2014 he tweeted this:

I wanted to verify the fact that this company represents One Direction. The screenshot below is from their website. I highlighted the part that says they do in fact represent the boys.

No, this is not a denial of Elounor or Larry, but it is a denial that the company has even purposely fabricated a relationship. That would include Elounor, Zerrie, Sophiam, Haylor, and so on.

Also, I found this on their website. It’s a testimonial from Modest Management.

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Fizzy’s Best Friend, Tasha

This happened only a few days ago, feel free to look it up. It is real.

Before you start questioning if this account is real, it is. Her Ask in linked to her Instagram, which Fizzy follows.

If you are a Larrie, before you lose your shit, she later said she knew Larry didn’t actually destroy their friendship. However, it still did affect it.

I don’t want to hear how Fizzy’s best friend wouldn’t know anything. My best friend knows everything about my life. When I am talking about shit that pisses me off, she is there to listen. I’m sure it is the same way with Fizzy.

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Gemma Styles

No, this is not a direct denial. However, I do think it is telling of what Gemma thinks of Larry. Remember, she did not need to reply to this. She has fans tweeting her tons of things, and she is not obligated to reply to any of it. She choose to reply to this, and it was probably to deny the ridiculous rumor that she was “hinting” Larry was real. Notice how all their proof is assumptions that they believe are hints?

[Added Aug 2017]

But Larries can’t have nice things, so it was a matter of time really for Gemma to end up denying Larry. It was on Tumblr after she received this ask:

It’s been since then deleted, but that doesn’t take her words back. People that believe in Larry are a WASTE.

The next one is not a proper Larry denial, but more like the first example. Around week after Freddie Tomlinson was born Gemma liked this on IG:

Larries immediately took it as a sign, claimed she was shading “babygate,” and that it meant the denial of Freddie being Louis’ son was coming SOON (yeah, they always say that.) Of course nothing happened, and asked to clarify Gemma said this:

The mentality that implies that everything is connected to the thing that matters to them is actually a trait of conspiracy theorists’ mentality. Anyway, as we all know, “babygate” didn’t “end”, thus this became another sort of Larry denial, and proof that the family of the boys are pretty aware of how Larries work. She got to hear a couple of more complaints about it.

More recently, in 2016, Gemma posted a picture of a graffiti on IG:

Even if in the graffiti both human forms have blue eyes, some Larries jumped in, claiming that it proved Larry. Again, everything is about them and Larry, even if it’s Gemma’s IG and she has, like, HER OWN LIFE.

Yes. See the green and blue hearts so characteristic of the larriedom, and Gemma’s reaction. Sadly, instead of backing off at her reply that the post had nothing to do with Larry, they went after her and called her ableist, just because she dared to deny Larry. One moment they love you, the next one they hate you.

There’s no winning with these people. All we can do is wonder when the next denial will come.

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Keith Tomlinson

Before you begin questioning if his account is real, it is. No, Louis does not follow him. However, other family members do, and he has posted never before seen pictures of Louis and himself.

I really don’t give a shit if you don’t consider him as Louis’ real grandfather anymore just because he was only his grandfather by marriage. Louis grew up with him. You don’t need to be related by blood to consider someone as family, that’s just fucking stupid.

Louis visits him often. He denies Larry. Get the fuck over it. Stop making excuses for it.

Remember, this post is of denials of Larry and confirmations of Elounor. Keith confirmed Eleanor with the very obvious, “Goodnight disbelievers” to all the Larries out there.

Go ahead, search it up to verify it’s real if you need to.

This next one is not a denial of Larry or a confirmation of Elounor, however, I thought I would add it in here to show the frustration with Larries.

Keith has absolutely no chill with Larries. (Personally, I think it was not necessary, but I think it’s just really frustrating to family and friend of especially Louis.)

Again, search it up on Twitter to verify it is real.

Keith literally has zero chill.

[Added: Feb, 2017.]

Keith passed away early 2016. He had a last quarrel with a Larrie who was spamming a tweet of Harry about a terrorist attack with “Larry is real:”

Keith wasn’t here for the disrespect and lack of boundaries. And neither should you.

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Lottie Tomlinson

It isn’t even funny anymore. I honestly don’t know why some Larries continue to harass Lottie.

There was so much drama in the fandom when this happened, oh my gosh. Eleanor also commented, but we are just focusing on Lottie.

Yes, I know this is not a direct denial of Larry. however, like I said before, they do not need to say, “Larry isn’t real” to portray the same message.

I think “SHUT UP YOU DELUDED F R E A K S” and “Sit down and shut up because you people do not know A THING” will suffice. Next.

This screenshot is from when Lottie accidentally favorited a gif of Harry and Louis with the caption, “boyfriends”.

Of course, all the Larries lost their shit and seemed to have completely forgotten about the time she called them deluded freaks.

Lottie quickly un-favorited it and tweeted that. She deleted the tweet minutes after she posted it. You can search up the tweet and see a bunch of quoted tweets on the same day and time to verify it was real.

No, this isn’t a denial. However, she did tell Larries to go away and she admitted it was a mistake.

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Fizzy Tomlinson

The first one I have is from when Fizzy did a Twitcam with her friend.

Fizzy did a twitcam in June of 2012. During it, she talks about Louis’ sexuality.

She says, “I don’t say it’s a bad thing to be gay. It’s just kind of rude to me because I know he’s not gay, and you’re all just like ‘No, your brother’s gay.’ Like, no he isn’t. Shut up.”

She then reads a comment that says, “Louis is clearly gay,” to which she replies, “He has a girlfriend!” (It is cut off).

You can watch it HERE.

Yes, I know. She only said he isn’t gay, and I can hear Larries say, “He doesn’t have to be gay for Larry to be real.” You are right.

However, Fizzy did confirm his relationship with Eleanor. I do know one can have a girlfriend, yet still be interested in men too. However, one cannot be in a relationship with his best friend and girlfriend at the same time.

Next.

I went through Fizzy’s Ask.FM. I did not scroll all the way to her very first answer because I found plenty before than. There are tons, and some of them (about Eleanor specifically) I did not add because it was not directly about Elounor or Larry.

Keep in mind. Fizzy gets tons of questions all the time. It’s her choice on which ones she wants to reply to. She clearly wanted to reply to this for a reason.

Let’s begin the long list of answers. They are not exactly in order.

The link was to the clip where Harry grabs Louis and kisses him on the cheek during an interview. Fizzy replied with, “Do you think if he was being serious he would do that in the middle of an interview?”

“Larry isn’t real but ship what you want,” THERE YOU GO LARRIES. THERE ARE THE THREE WORDS YOU ACTUALLY DON’T WANT TO HEAR.

This is something I always say when family members or friends deny Larry. It is ridiculous to say they are lying when they would just avoid answering at all.

“He doesn’t hate you, just your ship.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, Elounor is true love, and Larry is fake,” There you go, once again.

“You just see what you want to see,” HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I SAID THIS? YOU GO, FIZZY!

“If Larry was real, I would ship it but it’s not so I don’t haha"

Well, that was simple.

Simple answer.

There is most likely even more than just these. I only search back a little over a year and a half.

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Niall and Josh

During a Twitcam from over two years ago, Josh was reading comments on the Twitcam he was doing will Niall.

One comment talked about Zayn and Liam’s ship name, which is Ziam. Josh then realized what Larry was. Niall says, "Alright yeah,” with a very dead pan face. They then begin talking about something else. Niall reads a comment that asks if Larry is real. As soon as he reads the comment out loud, he shakes his head and flips his hand as if to show he is annoyed. Josh then says, “I’m pretty sure Larry isn’t real, guys,” while Niall laughs.

I find this funny. This was only a few months after the first bullshit tweets. Niall is clearly like, “Do they not get it…?"

Josh did not even know what "Larry Stylinson” was. Wow! It must be soOOooOOO real.

If you read the comment sections, it is full of Larries who say Niall could have flat out said no, but he didn’t. Honestly, his reaction was telling enough, but I understand where they are coming from.

The whole, “If Larry isn’t read, why haven’t they denied it,” thing, is a different story for a different post I have in the works.

Whether you think Niall’s reaction was a denial or not, Josh denies it too.

You can watch it yourself HERE.—————————————————————————————————

Liam

I LIVE for Liam’s denials of Larry. Let’s begin.

The following picture is an old screenshot. In the current screenshot, it won’t show the tweet Liam replied to. I posted both so you could see what he replied to and see that the tweet is still there. You can still search for the tweet and find it.

The next picture is the current screenshot.

Next.

No, he didn’t deny Larry as a whole, but I don’t want to miss anything. So many people don’t even know most of these things in this post happened.

Next.

Yes, I know screenshots of DMs from either Instagram or Twitter can be faked. I almost never trust any DMs because they are faked quite often.

However, this one was real. The girl who Liam messaged back took a video of his DM and posted it on her Instagram. Her Instagram is now private, but I found someone else who took her video and posted it in their account.

If you are going to say videos like hers can be faked, please show me your receipts. I have NEVER found any. I have had many Larries act like know-it-all-shits and then go ghost when I ask for proof.

The DM is real. Next.

Once again, I would not trust this DM unless the girl had a video, which she did.

The link to the proof that the DM was real is HERE.

Let me explain what happened with this DM because many people were confused. This girl (@rtsophiam) was followed by Liam and Sophia. She had messaged Liam, asking if Larry was real or not. He unfollowed her. He then, being the kind hearted boy he is, re-followed her and messaged her that.

You can go check. She still has her Liam follow and she had it before the DM incident occurred.

Now, I know Larries were only say it was Modest. That will be their excuse for these DMs. Let me remind you of Liam’s tweets the same night this happened.

His tweets sound exactly like Liam. Go look up all of his tweets from October 2, 2014.

Also, notice his tweets about crazy DMs that are either fun, shocking, or strange? Hm. I wonder what DM he is referring to.

Lastly, during an interview, when asked to explain what Larry is, Liam said, “He’s imaginary.”

Again, do I need to write the definition of imaginary for you, Larries?

[Added: Feb, 2017.]

On his solo interview for Attitude Magazine (Sept 2015,) Liam had some words for the Larries, concerning Larry and Louis’ impending parenthood:

“People think of the Louis and Harry thing [that they’re secret lovers,] which is nuts and drives me insane.” The idea of Larry is, according to Liam, “nuts.” But he goes forward and call the Larries a “conspiracy” and a “cult,” telling that people make every gesture [of Louis and Harry] about them being together, and he knows “it’s not true” and it makes him “mad.” He knows “what’s what” [he understands the inner jokes and gestures] but has to hear “all these crazy theories.”

“I get tagged in drawings of Louis and Harry being together.” The 4th wall is broken. Well done, Larries. This is not fandom; this is not support. This is, as Liam says in his comparison, a conspiracy theory: “Imagine you’re the man who lands on the moon and you come back home to hear some people saying you didn’t.” Put yourself in these people’s shoes for once and imagine how it would be having people denying part or the whole of your existence. Liam stated Larry is not real and compared you, Larries, with conspiracists and cult people. He also stated that Louis was happy to become a dad, as he’s been for over a year now. When will you get the cue that your invasiveness is not welcomed?

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[Added: Feb, 2017.]

Zayn

In the interview he gave to the Fader in 2015, Zayn had the chance to talk about some of his experiences in One Direction. The conversation quickly moved to the fans’ culture.

Talking about shipping culture and fan theories Zayn stated:

“There’s no secret relationships going on with any of the band members.” This is a direct quote from Zayn, that established that Larry (or any of the other ships, even those not majorly tinhatted, like his own ship with Liam) is not real. But he goes further and says the fan theories had an effect in the way the boys behave in public: “It’s not funny, and it still continues to be quite hard for them. They won’t naturally go put their arm around each other because they’re conscious of this thing that’s going on, which is not even true. They won’t do that natural behavior.” It’s not the gay rumors that affected Larry’s public bond, but the constant harassment and invasiveness, the fact that there are tons of denials and people still spams every single post of the boys (and friends and family) with Larry’s claims. It’s the same Liam said for Attitude, it’s the constant watching and interpretation that exhausted them; in Zayn’s own words: “knowing that everything you do will be parsed for subtext is a terrible mindfuck.” Congratulation, Larries, you played yourselves and ruined Larry for the world.

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Louis

[Reorganized Aug 2017]

16/09/2012: Bullshit 1.0

Louis calls Larry’s theories conspiracies, and implies that the people involved in it aren’t lovely. He also addresses how those people give the fandom a bad name, thing that’s been proven to be a massive issue intra fandom and with media and GP’s perception of it and fannish behavior. He also refers to Larry as the “biggest load of bullshit.” The impact and following tantrum was so big that, to be able to cope Larries called the episode “bullshit 1.0,” because even if it should have ended that very day, they carried on, leaving room for even more denials left and right, and “bullshit 2.0.”

As I said, Larries got so defensive they ended up attacking Jay because, as always, she dared to speak up for her son and his girlfriend. Louis had to return and address the harassment again. His mother, people.

The issue ended that day with Louis making clear that HE DOESN’T CONSIDER LARRIES REAL FANS, and that any claim about anyone else but himself tweeting was inaccurate (sounds like he knew already the kind of theories he was dealing with):

Sept 2012: Chatty Man’s denial is reported in this article. The words quoted directly from Louis are consistent with everything Louis’ said on the matter to this day, that Larry makes things difficult for Harry and him, and that it’s disrespectful to his girlfriend.

“I just think it's really degrading towards her,” he explained, mentioning Eleanor again. What's most fascinating is that he admitted that he'd known about the pairing for a while, but that after a while it became more taxing than fun: “This is a subject that was funny at first but now is actually hard to deal with, as I am in relationship. Me and Harry are best friends. People look into our every move—it is actually affecting the way me and Harry are in public.”

Oct 2012: Louis calls Larry Stylinson “a conspiracy of fanfiction.” When Unreality TV asked about Larry rumors, Louis said:

There’s also a recorded interview with thehothits.com around the same period of time of Louis talking about the matter HERE. I leave you a transcription:

“I’m sure if you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know that every now and again I’m quite outspoken. I think it’s important to speak your mind, and I’ve had a few rants recently. You know, people who have been horrible to my girlfriend Eleanor and to my mum, and I just don’t think people should be able to get away with it. I don’t go to bed and worry about it, I just think that people if they want to be like that, should be put in their place.”

We know you’ve been working on it, sweetie, but these people are so self-absorbed and selfish they don’t listen to anyone but themselves.

Nov 2013: Louis called Larry “a fucking annoyance.” Talking about fan theories and conspiracy theories, Zayn and Louis went off:

Looks like someone was pretty tired. You can read the whole interview HERE.

Do I really need to look up the words conspiracy and fiction for Laries to get the point?

21/07/2017: Louis denies Larry in an interview with The Sun. You can watch the video HERE (starts at 00:31.)

After relating the phenomenon to conspiracy theories, Louis states that “obviously there’s there’s not truth to it” [Larry’s conspiracy theory] glancing directly into the camera (like Larries always dreamed about) around 01:05. If there’re still doubts about it, or you don’t want to watch it, here are the gifs made by @slowhandsmp3:

And again a transcription:

Dan Wootton: Can you tell me what your view is on these people who are obsessed by a “Larry” conspiracy?

LOUIS: I’ve never actually been asked about it directly. It’s a funny thing. People can believe what they want to believe. It comes across as a little bit disrespectful to the ones that I love, like Eleanor. It’s like anything, if you google a conspiracy on iPhones, you’re gonna get a conspiracy. It’s one of those things people love to buy into, but in reality, obviously there’s no truth to it, obviously.

The same day The Sun published an exclusive interview where Louis went deeper in the issue:

“Louis and Harry’s friendship was also dogged by a ridiculous five-year conspiracy by a group of determined fans known as Larries.

They believe that the pair are in a romantic relationship that was covered up by 1D management, SIMON COWELL and even me (I promise you I’d have been delighted to report that Harry and Louis were an item if that were the case).

Sadly, Louis admits the pressure from Larry conspiracy theorists was a factor in their friendship struggling, especially given the serious relationship he has with girlfriend Eleanor Calder.He says: “I’ve never actually been asked about it directly. It’s a funny thing.“

"It kind of happened naturally for me and Harry because a certain amount of the fans drew up this conspiracy.

"When it first came around I was with Eleanor, and it actually felt a little bit disrespectful to Eleanor, who is my girlfriend now.

“I’m so protective over things like that, about the people I love. So it created this atmosphere between the two of us where everyone was looking into everything we did.

“It took away the vibe you get off anyone. It made everything, I think on both fences, a little bit more unapproachable. I think it shows that it was never anything real, if I can use that word.”

Louis again refers to Larry’s fan theories as conspiracy theories, and blames the fans involved in these behaviors (again called disrespectful) for the public, notorious separation that happened between him and Harry. This is consistent with the things expressed by Louis throughout the years, and also Zayn, for instance, who claimed fans made impossible for Harry and Louis to be spontaneous and physical with each other while in public. So congratulations, Larries, yet another confirmation that you killed what you loved the most.

31/07/2017: Louis’ denial of Larry Stylinson in an interview with Andy Cohen. As the media picked up The Sun exclusive, Louis was asked again about it, now in USA soil. No more excuses, Larries. Louis want to shut down these theories once and for all.

You can listen to the actual audio with words coming out of Louis’ mouth HERE.

Transcription HERE, but here’s a caption:

Not fans. Not anything, but “these people.” That’s how Louis refers to the people that come up with conspiracies about him. It’s over, people. You are not Louis’ fans if you deny his real relationship and his son. He warned you in 2012. Nothing really new to it. Just more denial coming up from the Larries. As Harry would say, SAD.

——————————————————————��——————————

Harry

[Reorganized Aug 2017]

During an interview for 60 minutes Australia, the interviewer tells Harry, “Look, Harry. I’ve got to ask you about this one. This is Famous magazine. This says you and Louis are a couple. There’s pictures of you kissing!”

Liam, Niall, and Harry begin explaining that the pictures are photoshopped and that it has happened to all of the boys.

She then asks Harry, “Oh, really? So you and Louis, there is nothing going on?”

Harry replies with a simple, “NO.“ Yes, Larries, hold on. I’ve heard all of your excuses, and I will address them. But first see it for yourselves, I swear it doesn’t bite:

youtube

Before you say, "Harry had to lean into to make sure they didn’t have actual pictures of them kissing,” let’s talk about the interview where they asked if Harry was having an affair with Obama.

Looks pretty similar to his reaction in the Australian interview, doesn’t it? So, is Harry fucking Obama too? Of course not. If you go up to anyone, claiming to have pictures of them kissing their best friend, they are going to look. It’s just a natural reaction. Keep making excuses.

Also related to this same interview, Larries spread the lie that there is a picture of Harry crying from right after this interview.

NO, THERE IS NOT.

The picture Larries spread around claiming to be of Harry crying are from a completely different interview where he has been sick for a few days. The exact same shot is at 9:13, and it is actually of Harry and Niall laughing. It is not a picture of Niall comforting Harry because he was crying. You can check it for yourselves HERE.

See how deceiving pictures (and Larries) can be?

Let’s move on. Larries don’t acknowledge this denial, and they thought they were lucky enough not to go through the same again due to Harry’s reluctance to talk about his personal life. It was a gift that kept giving until it stopped. It happened again.

In April 2016, a Venezuelan fan asked Harry is Larry was real while facetiming and he said “NO.” It was referred through Twitter by user @kingcasique_ and reported by media in at least this video:

youtube

Sadly, these tweets happened between Victoria, the girl that chatted with Harry, and her friend [I can’t provide a link because the girl has been suspended on Twitter]:

These types of implications are NOT acceptable. NO means NO.

Troubles continued for Larries, because life’s a b*tch for them, since during the promo of his solo career (May/June of 2017,) in which Harry remarked again and again how honest his album was, he was asked if his solo song “Sweet Creature” was about Louis.

So Harry denied Larry again, stating that he would “lean toward NO” in the subject of the song being about Louis. Listen to his reply (starting to speak quite upset) at 00:10:

youtube

Teen Vogue picked it up and you can read the article HERE. But here’s a transcription of the statement for everyone to acknowledge it.

“Lean toward NO” is as much as a categorical statement as a single NO. The word NO is right there. And you respect the word NO, because NO means NO.

Asked about the fan theory a second time in USA Today, Harry said “Oh, is that a thing?," completely snubbing the rumors. And went further: “Well, whatever it is that it makes one feel. But I think if you listen to the lyrics, you can work out what it’s about.” Oh, Harry, you unlucky bastard. You have a tendency to catch hay fever and Larries.

—————————————————————————————————

Louis and Harry

[Added Feb 2017]

HERE is one of the first interviews in which Louis and Harry casually dismiss the rumors about Larry being a romance (the one of the “genuinely believe.”) There’s a politeness, a clear intention not to create drama with the denial, because at the time rumors were just starting to get fueled, but they still weren’t a proper conspiracy theory, as Louis would refer later when talking about Larry. It wasn’t the only time the issue was addressed in a relaxed manner, trying to shut down rumors, but with an intention not to alienate the fans. And here’s another:

youtube

This is what the YouTube poster of the video wrote as a caption:

“I ship Larry, honest I think they are so cute and I would love them to be together... but if they say that its not true, that it is annoying them, going too far or that they are happy with their girlfriends then as fans we should respect that and let them live their lives. If they aren't gay then it will upset them and their girlfriends, and if they are then its obvious that they can't or don't want to talk about it so really either way shoving your opinions in their faces and their family and friends faces doesn't help. I'm not saying you don't have a right to think that or have an opinion, but sometimes you might want to think about who its affecting and respect what they are telling you, whether you believe it or not.”

Enough said.

—————————————————————————————————

Alright. I think I have gotten most of the ones I could find.

I figured I would actually discuss them more in depth since I can kind of predict what Larries will say about it.

First of, yes I do realize people can lie. However, people do not go so far to call Larries vile, deluded freaks, fake fans, disbelievers, deranged, stupid, a lost cause, bitter, lonely, and fucking peasants. They would also not go so far to call the theory of Larry strange, ludicrous, bullshit, weird, as real as the tooth fairy, a fantasy, imaginary, fan fiction, rubbish, and a wasted obsession. (I personally do not believe everything said about Larries was necessarily appropriate, but it happened.)

Like I have said before, if they didn’t want to out Larry, there was no reason to lie. It can simple be avoided.

Second of all, if you believe their family and friends are under contract, go ahead and read these posts:

Larries’ Contract Theories I

Larries’ Contract Theories II

It is not only about Harry and Louis, but that Act protects their loved ones as well.

Also, like I said before, these are all people who have known Harry and Louis all their lives or are very good friends or are people they work with. These are not random people who claim to have met Louis and claim to have been told that he hates Larry or that Elounor is real.

I find it really doubtful that these people would not know the truth, and I think if you are telling yourself that, you need to really think about that.

[Added Aug 2017]

After reading all this, there’s no denial that the only constant in the seven-year-long 1D history has been these people denying the existence of a romantic relationship between Louis and Harry. And I’d dare to say that the only constant in the 1D fandom has been the abuse and harassment they have subjected these persons to because of it.

WORDS MATTER. RESPECT THESE PEOPLE’S WORDS. RESPECT THEIR TRUTH. STOP THE DISRESPECT AND THE ENTITLEMENT.

#larry #larry stylinson #larry denials #louis tomlinson #harry styles #original 1arry-isnt-rea1 masterpost #one direction #1d

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woozapooza · 7 years

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Black Sails 1x01

Here we go!!! A new show!!! What a good pilot episode. So much happened, I can’t believe it’s only been one episode.

I was apprehensive about starting Black Sails because I’d been anticipating it for months and had built it up in my head. It’s the same apprehension I had starting Wynonna Earp. But once again, I have correctly judged from a tiny bit of information that a show is an excellent match for me. I’m not nearly as good as I’d like to be at following and remembering the events of shows, so after I finished the episode, I recounted as much of the plot as I could remember to myself. While doing that, I realized one thing that made it such a good way to start a show: it’s brimming with the theme of gambling, of making dangerous choices that may pay off hugely down the line or may end in disaster. Combine that with the numerous interesting characters, not to mention the fact that it’s a period drama about pirates I mean come on what’s better than that, and you’ve got the perfect recipe to make me keep watching. I hope everything in the following lil recap/review is factually correct but eh who knows.

Let’s start with Flint. The trope of angsty morally dubious loner captain dude, while cool in theory, does not always go over well for me (see Jack Harkness and Mal Reynolds, neither of whom is as questionable as Flint). But I think in Flint this trope (which probably has a name, or at least is an amalgam of a few tropes that have names) may finally work for me, and I’m not just saying that out of ginger solidarity, nor just because aesthetically Flint is #goals. Flint has been “gambling” for months before the show even starts: he’s been going after ships that don’t seem like good targets because he thinks they’ll lead him to the jackpot, the Urca de Lima. The result of him keeping his plan secret from the crew is low morale and the threat of mutiny. Flint has to walk the line between keeping the crew satisfied and pursuing a goal that will more than make up for the toll its pursuit takes. He fails to walk this line, but Singleton’s mutiny gives Flint the opportunity to change tactics while still very much gambling: by accusing Singleton of stealing the Urca’s schedule, he gets to fight and kill Singleton (he also had to bet on Singleton choosing a duel over a trial, but I’m assuming he knew Singleton well enough that it wasn’t a risky bet) and pretend to recover the schedule from Singleton’s corpse. Until he produced the blank sheet of paper, I really couldn’t guess whether he actually suspected Singleton or he was just looking for an excuse to put down the mutiny. I didn’t expect the trick with the blank paper. Flint may be the main character but you can’t always see into his head, so I expect he’ll be a lot of fun to watch. I enjoy his cleverness, his ruthlessness, and his moments of vulnerability. I’m still unsure whether he meant it at all when he apologized to the crew for keeping secrets from them. I’d like to think it wasn’t a complete lie, even though it was also a ploy to get them to like him again, but it’s not like he’s stopped lying to them. He has his crew’s loyalty back—fortunately he was right to gamble that Billy would play along and pretend Singleton really did have the schedule—but it will only last so long before they realize he doesn’t have it. He also has to hide the fact that Guthrie, who was key to getting the ship, is a) under arrest and b) so far, unwilling to help. Will Flint get the schedule for realsies before the crew figures out that he lied to them again?

Lying now and hoping he’ll have the means to make up for it later is not the worst thing Flint does in this episode. It’s the killing of Singleton that really shows that he’s not a straightforward hero. I wouldn’t say mutiny justifies murder, but then again I’m not a pirate. I also wouldn’t say theft merits the death penalty, but that’s how pirates do. What I’m getting at is, Flint may do questionable things (like, in addition to the very fact of piracy), but he’s not the only one. I guess pirates have their own morality and just because Flint does things I wouldn’t do doesn’t mean he doesn’t have some kind of code. He even acknowledges, speaking to Billy, that pirates have a way of life that makes sense to them but not to mainstream people (I know I’m making pirates sound like hipsters but it was the first phrasing that came to mind): “men who keep what is theirs and fear no one.”

Speaking of Billy the boatswain, I really like him as well, and not just because he’s played by Tom Hopper. His type of gambling has to do with how much of his faith and loyalty he’s going to put into Flint. He pretends that Flint was correct to accuse Singleton of theft, but he’s by no means a sycophant. When Flint is brutally interrogating Richard Guthrie and tells Billy to point the gun at Guthrie, Billy has no problem pointing it at Flint instead. So if Billy is playing along with Flint’s scheme, he must have weighed the options and decided this was best. Billy, like Flint, thinks, speaks, and acts for himself. Also, he looks like Tom Hopper.

Silver is a bit of a weird character because he’s to some extent our point-of-view character, but he’s also absent for large parts of the episode. Regarding his role as the audience stand-in, it was cool to show him discovering all the information about the Urca de Lima at the same time that Flint’s voiceover was explaining the same information. Regarding Silver’s personality, I really enjoy his unapologetic selfishness and self-preservation. Everyone on the show has their ways of looking out for themselves, and for Silver, that happens to mean hiding below deck, killing the cook (in self-defense, to be fair), stealing the Urca’s schedule because he knows it’s valuable even though he doesn’t know why, and pretending he’s a cook so he gets to join the crew of the Walrus (I’m looking forward to find out whether he actually can cook). But when Flint kills Singleton, do I dare see in Silver’s face a hint of remorse that his actions might have gotten someone killed, or do I need to be more cynical? Anyway, his main gamble is to hold on to the schedule rather than hand it over to Flint. He also has to make the gamble to trust Max.

Max, who is pretty mysterious so far but very alluring, likewise has to gamble to trust Silver. I like their dynamic—good teamwork from two blatantly self-interested people. Her acquisition of the schedule parallels how Silver got it: he could tell the cook really wanted to hold onto it, she could tell he really wanted to hold onto it. Both of them are clearly good at identifying where profit lies and getting there. Silver says that when he sees an opportunity for gain, he can’t help but take it; when given the chance to back out of a partnership with him, Max isn’t tempted, which suggests that she is much the same. As for another of Max’s relationships, as I have said, one of the reasons I wanted to watch this show was that I knew it had quality gay/bi content and WOW it turns out they hit you with it right in the first episode! I ship her and Eleanor by default (and because of the line “Max is your harbor,” I’ve decided my ship tag will be “all I want is to be your harbor”) but their interaction was mostly sex, so I hope we get to see more depth to their relationship soon. However, one of the episode’s few tender moments was Max’s concern when she saw the bruise Vane left on Eleanor’s face, so that bodes well for her and for the two of them.

I think Eleanor might be my favorite character so far, largely because Hannah New is very attractive when she’s swearing. And in general. She gambles by funding Gates’ efforts at bribery (making their interaction also a gamble for Gates) and oops she almost won that gamble but not quite. She also has to choose between loyalty to Vane and loyalty to Flint. She chooses Flint. We’ll see how that turns out. She is undoubtedly and unapologetically self-interested, but without crossing the line into immorality. (I mean immorality relative to the show’s baseline morality.) Same goes for most of these characters, now that I think about it, including Max. In addition to their similarities, these ladies balance each other: Eleanor is gruffer but more emotional, while Max is more subtle and more sanguine. Ship ship ship.

While watching The 100 I often wondered if Roan was just a boring character or if there was an innate boringness to Zach McGowan. Now I can declare that Roan is just a boring character. Vane is not boring. He’s pretty frightening, really. Maybe ZM should just only ever play villains? I don’t know. Anyway, despite being set up as the antagonist, I’m not yet convinced that Vane is really much worse than Flint. We shall see. He’s got a plan of his own, though it doesn’t really fit the gambling theme: he tried to engineer the victory of Singleton’s mutiny so that, once the crew of the Walrus realized they no longer had a competent captain, they’d defect to Vane’s crew. That didn’t pan out since Flint took down Singleton and made up with his crew, but Vane didn’t really lose anything, at least not as far as we’ve seen. For that reason, he’s probably the character who came out of the pilot looking the least vulnerable.

Gates, like Flint, feels like a character type I have seen before: the practical, long-suffering but loyal second-in-command to the headstrong, risk-taking team leader. The only other example I can think of is Bennet Drake from Ripper Street, but I think I’ve seen it elsewhere as well. Gates is the one who puts into words the theme I’ve been talking about: he tells Eleanor that if she loans him money to ensure Flint retains the captaincy, it will be an “investment in the future.” I’m looking forward to seeing whose investments pay off and whose future wins out.

There’s a lot of conflict already, but there’s a lot of overlap of characters’ traits, I guess because they all know this piratey world quite well and what kind of person you have to be to survive and to thrive. Basically, the first episode sets up a rough world where everyone is looking out for themselves and making difficult choices that they think are for their own good but that might have explosive consequences down the line. We get a glimpse of what these characters want and what they’re willing to do to get it. Also there are pirates. What’s not to love?

WHO DOES RACKHAM REMIND ME OF? I looked up Toby Schmitz’s filmography and I don’t think I’ve see him in anything else but I swear he reminds me of someone!

Best dialogue of the episode:

Gates, to Billy: You’re a highly regarded member of this crew. The captain regards your input more than you know.

Gates, to Flint: Billy’s going with you.

Flint: Who’s Billy?

#x #Black Sails #black sails 1x01 #black sails review #review #this is mainly for my benefit but hey if anyone wants to Engage you're welcome to do so #Anna watches tv #Anna watches Black Sails #I have many thoughts

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twifeordeath · 7 years

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Twife or Death: Lesbian Twilight Chapter 14

Updated as of 1-23-17 (previous) (all chapters)

All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer, and this project is non-profit and fan entertainment.Thank you to Laura G, Devyn L, Birdy E, Naoya, Liz B, Caitlin L, Jordyn, Breanna P, Amanda L, Gabrielle P, Nobbie A, Tori K, goddessayem, smallnark, Julia F, Mol M, Dyma S, Rose I, Tess KC, Maria K, Rachel E, Kathleen K, Katie G, Brittany E, Elizabeth E, Imp, Amy L, Robin SG, and the project admins, Alina G and B Bordeaux.

14. MIND OVER MATTER

She could drive well when she kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless for her. She barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as an inch from the center of the lane. She drove one-handed, with the other hand holding mine.

Sometimes she gazed into the setting sun, sometimes she glanced at me — my face, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together. She had turned the radio to an oldies station and started singing along with a song that sounded vaguely familiar. She knew every line.

“You like fifties music?” I asked, hazarding a guess.

“Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!” She shuddered. “The eighties were bearable.”

Her comment stirred my curiosity. “How did you… how did you become a vampire?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to upset her buoyant humor by stirring up painful memories.

“Does it matter much?” Her smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.

“No, but I still wonder…” I frowned. “I would like to learn more about you, if you are okay with it…”

“I wonder if it will upset you,” she reflected to herself. She gazed ahead, avoiding my eyes.

“It won’t. I think.” I replied. “Maybe you could simplify, or just focus on emotions and not actions? It might help…” By now I’ve grown used to it all. Besides, this was Edythe’s life, it couldn’t be as bad as the horror stories Mom broke out around campfires.

She sighed, and then glanced sideways at me, gauging my expression. Whatever she saw there must have encouraged her. She looked forward again — the light of the setting sun glittered off her skin in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

“I was born in Chicago in 1901.” She paused and glanced at me from the corner of her eyes. My face was carefully neutral, patient for the rest. One side of her lips curved up in a tiny smile and she continued, “Carine found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza.”

I felt my sudden intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. She must have noticed it, because she paused briefly before continuing.

“I don’t remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and I had wanted that particular memory to fade.” She was lost in her thoughts for a short time before she went on. “I do remember how it felt, when Carine saved me. It’s not an easy thing; not something you could forget.”

“Your parents?”

“They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why she chose me out of everyone else she could have saved. I wouldn’t have to go through the pain of leaving a loved one behind. And in all the chaos of the epidemic, I began anew without any suspicion.”

“How did she… save you?”

A few seconds passed before she answered. She seemed to choose her words carefully.

“It was difficult. Changing someone requires precision. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carine has always been the most composed, the most skillful in my family… I don’t think you could even find her equal throughout all of history.” She paused. “As for me, it was merely very, very painful.”

I could tell from the hard set of her lips, she would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my interest for her sake, though my mind was far from idle. There were many questions that flashed through my mind about this particular issue, and ideas that were only beginning to occur to me.

Her soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “She had also acted from loneliness, I think. That’s usually the reason that drives vampires when deciding to turn someone. I was the first in Carine’s family, and Esme was the second. Esme fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue. Somehow her heart was still beating.”

“So you must be dying, then, to become…” We never said the word, and I couldn’t frame it now.

“No, that’s just Carine’s morals. Anyone could be turned. She just would never do that to someone who had another choice. If they were conscious enough, she would ask.” The respect in her voice was profound whenever she spoke of the woman who had become her mother. “It is very difficult though, she says,” she continued, “to possess enough control to turn someone.” She looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.

“And Eleanor and Rosalie?”

“Carine brought Rosalie into our family next. I never had a sister, and neither had she. We enjoyed each other’s presence tremendously.” She rolled her eyes. “I never realized I could feel such a magnitude of both love and annoyance for a single person. Two years later, Rosalie found Eleanor. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found a bear about to finish Eleanor off. Rosalie carried her back to Carine, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn’t be able to complete the change herself. I’m only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her.” She threw a glance in my direction and raised our hands, still folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of her hand.

“But she made it,” I said, encouraging her to continue.

“Yes,” Edythe murmured. “She saw something in Eleanor’s face that made her strong enough. And they’ve been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school.” She laughed. “I suppose we’ll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again.”

“Alice and Jasper?”

“Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another family before she joined us. She… well, that’s her story to tell. Alice found her. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind.”

“Really?” I interrupted, fascinated. “But you said you were the only one who could hear people’s thoughts.”

“That’s true. Alice has a different gift. She sees the future — things that might happen, things that are coming. That’s how I found you that night, in Port Angeles, because she warned me. Her visions are very subjective, however. The future isn’t set in stone. Things change.”

Her jaw set when she said that, and her eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I only imagined it.

“What other things does she see?”

“She saw Jasper first. I think Alice felt that she was looking for someone before she knew why or who. After she found Jasper she saw Carine and our family, and they came together to find us. She’s most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose.”

“Are there a lot of… your kind?” I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected?

“No, not many. But most won’t settle in any one place. Only those like us, who’ve given up hunting you people” — a sly glance in my direction — “can live together with humans for any length of time. We’ve only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together.”

“And the others?”

“Nomadic clans, for the most part, with some exceptions. We’ve all lived that way at times. It helps to not draw attention to us, especially with our ageless state, but it gets tedious. We run across the others now and then, because there are clans that prefer the North.”

“Why is that?”

We were parked in front of my house now, and she’d turned off the Volvo. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off, so I knew my Ma wasn’t home yet.

“Did you not see me this afternoon?” she teased. “Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There’s a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world, though it’s mostly for Carine’s and my sake. The darker our skin is, the less we sparkle. Alice, Jasper, and Eleanor still shimmer, though much less than I do, while Esme and Rosalie only have a light, iridescent halo about them.”

She sighed. “It’s nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn’t believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years.”

“So that’s where the sun-allergic legends came from?”

“Probably.”

I pondered on the thought. “And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?”

“No, that is a mystery to us. Alice doesn’t remember her human life at all. And she doesn’t know who changed her. She awoke alone. Whoever bit her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, they chose to do so. If she hadn’t had her future sense, if she hadn’t seen Jasper and Carine and known that she would someday become one of us, Alice probably would have been utterly lost.”

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I’d been so intrigued, I forgot I hadn’t eaten yet. I realized now that I was ravenous.

Edythe frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from dinner. I’ve never spent so much time around humans. I tend to forget.”

“Still, I want to stay with you a bit longer.” It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray my vulnerability.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Would you like to?” I couldn’t picture Edythe sitting in Charlie’s ordinary kitchen chair.

“Yes, if it’s all right.” I heard her get out of the car, and almost simultaneously she was outside my door, opening it for me.

“Slower than I thought,” I teased her.

“Surely by only a few seconds.”

She walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had reach out and take her hand to be sure she was still there. In the darkness she looked different. Still my beautiful Edythe, but no longer the fantastic, if a little ridiculous, sparkling girl of our sunlit afternoon.

We reached the door and she waited. I paused to reach under the eave for the key, and unlocked it. As I replaced the key, she opened the door for me. I stepped inside.

As I reach to flick on the porch light, I noticed her stopped halfway through the frame. I raised my eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, hesitant, “I’ve just never been in a girl’s house before.”

“Ah. No need to be shy,” I said, giggling. “Nothing scary in here.”

I went ahead of her for the moment and gestured down the hall to the kitchen. She stood there for a bit longer, taking in the details of the living room, then followed. In the kitchen, she sat in the very chair I’d tried to picture her in. Her presence lit up the room, and I was suddenly reminded of Renée, in the days before the divorce, how my mother could illuminate the house in the same way. It was a moment before I could look away.

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night’s lasagna from the fridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I didn’t take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

“Would you like to…?” I asked casually.

“Hmmm?” She sounded as if I had pulled her from some other train of thought.

Suddenly embarrassed, I changed my question. “What do you think of the house?”

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. Edythe was by my side in a moment as I stiffened, my hand darting down to grip hers.

“Does your mother know I’m here?” she asked.

I thought about the silver Volvo in the driveway. “She will now.”

“Should I leave?”

“Do you want to?”

She laughed nervously, but her hold on my hand remained steady. “I’ll stay.”

“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath.

My ma’s key turned in the door.

“Bella?” she called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? “Whose car is outside? You going to introduce me to your friend?”

“We’re in here Ch- ma.” I hoped she couldn’t hear the nerves in my voice. I grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as she walked in. I heard a chuckle and glared in Edythe’s direction as I burned my hand slightly in my haste to sit down. Charlie’s footsteps suddenly sounded so noisy after my day with Edythe.

I scrambled back up as she walked in, “Hello Bells! Hope you had a good day?” She smiled and winked as she took in the scene (and Edythe) then stepped on the heels of her boots to take them off, holding the back of my chair for support.

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes at her, “Ma, meet Edythe. Edythe, this is my mother Charlie, though you probably already know her as the sheriff.”

Edythe stood up fluidly, though a mite too fast to be completely calm, and shook Charlie’s hand after the boots were out of the way, “Nice to meet you Sheriff.”

“Oh please, just call me Charlie,” she wasn’t used to this level of polite respect in a pretty rural town where everyone knew her by her first name. “Bella, did you offer our guest some food?”

We started speaking at the same time,

“Edythe isn’t hungry-”

“I already ate, thank you-”

Charlie smiled at us, then with a mischievous grin suggested, “You should show Edythe your room Bella!”

I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got her dinner. It burned my tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while her lasagna was heating, and gulped mine to put out the fire, busying myself so I wouldn’t have to reply. She didn’t seem to expect one anyway. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, her expression bright, lighting up the room almost as much as Edythe had, though her hair and skin were much darker.

“Thanks,” she said as I placed her food on the table.

“How was your day?” I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to my room.

“Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

“Not really — it was too nice out to stay indoors.” I took another big bite. “Edythe took me hiking.” Why was my face so hot all of a sudden?

Edythe chuckled so softly I thought I might have imagined it.

“Oh really?” Charlie looked between the two of us in amusement. “Nothing too strenuous though?”

Oh my mom, always protective. Edythe hurriedly assured her that it was more like a walk and then a picnic in a clearing in the Preserve.

Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my milk.

Charlie surprised me by being observant. “In a hurry?”

“Not really? I just…” I had made the mistake of looking over at Edythe and my treacherous brain short-circuited and started hyperfocusing on her freckles and the few strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face.

Edythe swooped in and saved me by asking Charlie about the success of her fishing trip. She could go on for quite awhile on the topics of fish and other wildlife.

I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry, trying to take deep breaths and hoping I didn’t look so much like a tomato anymore

“So is Edythe staying the night?” Charlie asked, hip-checking me as she slid up with her plate and fork.

“Mommmm!”

“I’ll just leave you girls to it then! Go show her around Bella, I’ll finish the dishes.”

Another musical chuckle from Edythe, who, to my surprise, seemed to be blushing as well. I took her by the hand before I could chicken out and dragged her out of the kitchen. She may have been shorter than me, but I’m sure if she’d wanted to, she could have stopped me. I tried not to slam the door but my relief at escaping Charlie’s pointed questions was sizeable. She meant well, but sometimes, well, sometimes a girl just needed space!

“Were you really that desperate to get me alone, Bella?” Edythe was incredibly close to me all of a sudden, amber eyes almost glowing in the dark.

I flipped the switch to turn on the strings of lights on my ceiling, scoffing, “I could ask you the same question.” Where was all this confidence coming from? My heart fluttered like a hummingbird, wanting to take flight right out of my chest.

Edythe laughed loudly, flopping down on my bed, bronze hair splaying out around her head like a halo.

“So, give me the grand tour then, Bella Swan.”

I played with the tassel of an old tapestry Charlie had gotten me, from back when Lisa Frank had been an obsession, “Nothing much to show really.”

Edythe sat up suddenly, her face momentarily in shadow.

“You okay?” I peeled myself off the wall.

She stood up, suddenly looking a bit stiff and uncomfortable. “I’ve never been in a girl’s bedroom before.”

I stared at her a few moments before letting loose a giggle. She looked over at me and the spell was broken, her smile curved easily across her face.

“I know that sounds strange when I put it like that.”

“No, I think I know what you mean.” I said, taking her hand more slowly this time, aware of her every movement. I looked down at her and saw she was blushing again. I pulled her to the window, not able to stand the intensity of her gaze for long.

“Here’s my wishing tree.” I pointed out to the gnarled old hawthorn underneath my window. “I would try to make a wish as I’d watch the leaves fall in the autumn, watching one twirl, before it settled on the ground. Or I’d try to guess how many berries were on a branch. If I was right I’d get another wish.” Edythe’s hand was now warm in mine, almost completely normal.

I turned to see her watching me with a fond smile playing across her face. “You never fail to surprise me, Bella Swan.” She gave my hand a squeeze and went over to my bookshelf.

I watched her eyes scan the shelves, then her arm with an upraised finger, poised to pull a book down, but hesitating.

“Warrior Cats? Really?”

I stumbled over in shock. “I…”

“Cinderpelt was innocent,” she said with a grin. Then suddenly she lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, her hands behind her head, her feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease.

“Oh!” I breathed, putting out a hand to brace myself, dizzy from shock.

“I’m sorry!” She sat up, gazing worriedly at me, “too fast?”

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart.”

She carefully reached out a hand and tugged me onto the bed beside her.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she suggested, putting an arm around my shoulders. “How’s the heart?”

“You tell me — I’m sure you hear it better than I do.”

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat slow. I leaned my head onto her shoulder and felt her arm slowly warm to match my temperature. I didn’t want to move.

“Can I have a minute to be human?” I asked as I realized I couldn’t remember if I’d even brushed my teeth this morning.

“Certainly.” She gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

“Stay,” I said, trying to look severe.

“Yes, ma'am.” And she made a show of becoming a statue on the edge of my bed.

I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas from off the floor, my bag of toiletries off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door.

I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged the bathroom door loudly, cursing my dyspraxia. I opened it back up and shouted, “I’m fine,” back down the stairs so Charlie wouldn’t worry. I heard her laugh and say, “Don’t take your frustration out on inanimate objects Bells, you know they can’t fight back.” I definitely heard Edythe laughing then, and stuck my tongue out in her general direction. She didn’t see it but it made me feel better.

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough and speedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the hot water of the shower couldn’t be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse. The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the same person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edythe, sitting in my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with the calming process. I shut off the water, toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my holey t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Too late to regret not packing the Victoria’s Secret silk pajamas my mother got me two birthdays ago, which still had the tags on them in a drawer somewhere back home.

I quickly put my hair into two cornrows, then tied my silk scarf around my head. I threw the towel in the hamper, flung my brush and toothpaste into my bag. Then I flew into my room, closing the door tightly behind me.

Edythe hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch, a carving of Aphrodite perched on my faded quilt. I smiled, and her lips twitched, the statue coming to life.

Her eyes appraised me, taking in the head scarf, the tattered shirt. She raised one eyebrow. “Nice.”

I grimaced.

“No, it looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered. I went back to her side, sitting cross-legged beside her. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor.

She lifted my chin, examining my face.

“You look very warm.”

She bent her face slowly to mine, laying her cool cheek against my skin. I held perfectly still.

“Mmmmmm…” she breathed.

It was very difficult, while she was touching me, to think coherently. I felt her hand, lighter than a moth’s wing, brushing a short lock of hair that had escaped the scarf, so that her lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear.

“So I was wondering…” I began again, but her fingers were slowly tracing my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

“Yes?” she breathed.

I closed my eyes and sighed, forgetting what it was I might have been wondering at the time.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No — the opposite. You’re driving me crazy,” I explained.

She considered that briefly, and when she spoke, she sounded pleased.

“Really?” A triumphant smile slowly lit her face.

“Would you like a round of applause?” I asked sarcastically.

She grinned.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised,” she clarified. “In the last hundred years or so,” her voice was teasing, “I never imagined anything like this. I didn’t believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in another way than my sisters. And then to find, even though it’s all new to me, that I’m good at it… at being with you…”

“You’re good at almost everything,” I pointed out.

She shrugged, and we both laughed in whispers.

“But how can it be so easy now?” I pressed. “This afternoon…”

“It feels right,” she sighed. “But this afternoon, I was still… confused and scared. I didn’t understand what I was feeling. I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so.”

“Not completely unforgivable,” I disagreed.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “You see,” she continued, looking down now, “I wasn’t sure if I was enough…” She picked up one of my hands and pressed it lightly to her face. “And while there was still that possibility that … it might be hunger,” — she breathed in the scent at my wrist — “I was… scared. I made up my mind that I was strong enough, but now I don’t have to worry, do I?”

I’d never seen her struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

“Not about eating me you don’t,” I said.

She threw back her head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly.

“Not in that way anyway,” she amended, winking, her hands encircling my wrists as she spoke.

I blushed furiously and struggled for words. She laughed her quiet, musical laugh. She’d laughed more tonight than I’d ever heard in all the time I’d spent with her.

“You seem more… playful than usual,” I observed. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be like this?” She smiled. “The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?”

“Very different,” I agreed. “More powerful than I’d imagined.”

I started pulling back, to look in her face, and her hands slowly released my wrists, lingering for a few moments before she let go completely. "What —" I started to ask, when her body became alert. I froze, but then she suddenly leaned back, shifting to put space between us.

“Charlie’s coming," she whispered urgently. I laughed at her startled expression.

I heard the door crack open as Charlie peeked in.

“You girls need anything?”

“No, ma, we’re fine.” I said, turning to look at her with a combination of pleading and embarrassment.

“Alright, well I’m turning in. Goodnight girls, don’t stay up too late.”

“Goodnight Charlie.” Edythe said solemnly, as I tried not to glare.

Charlie chuckled and closed the door.

Then Edythe's cool arm was around me; almost like she needed comforting.

"What, did you expect her to threaten you with a rifle?" I muttered, trying not to laugh, my heart still crashing in my chest.

She shook her head and chuckled. “I’m used to having to hide, not getting close to anyone outside my family. Instincts took over I guess. I only seemed to notice later that her thoughts were amused and not aggressive.”

“I think Charlie teases me about girls because she doesn’t want me to feel alone, but when she saw how I am around you- I guess she picked up on the fact that this isn’t just a crush. She might’ve been the one to try to give you the shovel talk a year ago, but we’ve talked a few times. She trusts me to come to her if I need anything. ”

She hummed a melody I didn’t recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

She paused. “Should I sing you to sleep?”

“Right,” I laughed. “Like I could sleep with you here!”

“So if you don’t want to sleep…” she suggested, ignoring my tone. My breath caught.

“If I don’t want to sleep… ?”

She chuckled. “What do you want to do then?”

I couldn’t answer at first.

“I’m not sure,” I finally said.

“Tell me when you decide.”

I could feel her cool breath on my neck, feel her nose sliding along my jaw.

“You have a very floral smell, like lavender… or freesia,” she noted.

“I’ve decided what I want to do,” I told her, fighting to keep my thoughts from scattering to the four winds. “I want to hear more about you.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Why can you read minds — why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… why does that happen?”

I felt her shrug in the darkness. “We don’t really know. Carine has a theory… she believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified — like our minds, and our senses. She thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some precognition, wherever she was.”

“What did she bring into the next life, and the others?”

“Carine brought her compassion. Esme brought her ability to love passionately. Eleanor brought her strength, Rosalie her… tenacity. Or you could call it pigheadedness.” she chuckled. “Jasper is very interesting. She was quite charismatic in her first life, able to influence those around her to see things her way. Now she is able to influence the emotions of those around her — calm down a room of tense people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It’s a very subtle gift.”

I considered the impossibilities she described, trying to take it in. She waited patiently while I thought.

“So where did it all start? I mean, Carine changed you, and then someone must have changed her, and so on…”

“Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn’t we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don’t believe that all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?” She laughed, and something touched my hair — her lips? I wanted to turn toward her, to see if it was really her lips against my hair.

“Are you ready to sleep?” she asked, interrupting the short silence. “Or do you have any more questions?”

“Only a million or two.”

“We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…” she reminded me. I smiled, euphoric at the thought.

“Are you sure you won’t vanish in the morning?” I wanted this to be certain. “You are mythical, after all.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“One more, then, tonight…” And I blushed. The darkness was no help — I’m sure she could feel the sudden warmth under my skin.

“What is it?”

“No, forget it. I changed my mind.”

“Bella, you can ask me anything.”

I didn’t answer, and she groaned.

“I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and worse.”

“Now you know how the rest of us feel.”

“Please?” Her voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist.

“Well,” I began, glad that she couldn’t see my face.

“Yes?”

“You said that Rosalie and Eleanor will get married soon… Is that… marriage… how many times have they gotten married? Why do you do it?”

She laughed in earnest now, understanding. “Is that what you’re getting at?”

I fidgeted, unable to answer.

“Well, I suppose it’s because we’re all in high school again. We’ve been enrolled in quite a few colleges, but it’s too easy to stay longer like that, and I guess Carine thought this would be safer. Rosalie especially enjoys the celebrations, and Alice organizing everything and picking out clothes. It’s almost like a holiday tradition.”

“You…” I began. She waited. “Well, doesn’t it get tedious to take the same classes over and over, to go back to that level of emotional maturity? Or lack thereof,” I added.

She laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

"I’m still seventeen years old emotionally. I may have more knowledge, though I don’t remember everything from the classes I’ve taken,” she paused, playing with a lock of my hair, “I guess it’s different for each of us. It’s not something we’ve discussed a lot, and now I’m curious what the others might say,” she mused.

I yawned involuntarily.

“I’ve answered your questions, now you should sleep,” she insisted.

“I’m not sure if I can.”

She laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an angel, soft in my ear.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and emotional stress like I’d never felt before, I drifted to sleep in her now warm embrace.

#twife or death #lesbian twilight #wlw twilight #wlw vampires #lesbian vampires #finally updated!!#im sure there are typos #shoot me a message and ill fix them!#itsblue #sorry its so late #XD #i got caught up in things #namely naps #i hope i did everything right!#chapter #okay so is it just me who for some reason doesnt like using lesbian as much as wlw?#am i just being weird?#i did a whole lot of rewriting for this chapter #im proud

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