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testudoaubrei-blog · 3 years

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Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes

#she ra horde prime #she ra #she ra catra #she ra spoilers #redemption arcs #toxic religion

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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But professor… - c.8

Summary: Walter and Penny adapt to Maryland

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter //

Tomorrow Walter and I are going to move to Maryland and there is just one more thing I need to do: buy some snacks. My cravings have been all over the place recently, so a trip without snack is asking for trouble. Walter is packing the final things with my mom and dad and in a minute they are going to put everything in the truck and U-haul. Since I’m the only one that knows what I really want, I decided to go on a little grocery store trip.

I’m wearing an oversized sweater on top of my leggings and it’s almost the only piece of clothing that is able to hide the bump. I’m seventeen weeks pregnant now, meaning the bump is harder and harder to hide, however this sweater will do. The chances of me running into someone I actually know is next to zero, but better be safe than sorry.

I walk into the grocery store and grab a basket, slowly filling it with what I want. ‘There she is,’ I hear a voice say, one I haven’t heard in so long and certainly haven’t missed.

Fitzgerald.

Every hair in my neck stands up straight. I simply pull my lips into an awkward smile, before walking off to the register. As I’m scanning the products, he actually follows me and I hate how this guy never understands the message, spoken or unspoken.

‘So, you haven’t been coming to classes,’ he says.

‘I know,’ I say, ‘I quit. Been looking into some other things.’

That is already more than I actually wanted to share with him, but hopefully it’s enough to make him go away.

‘Oh really? What you been looking into?’

Just fuck off, Fitzgerald. ‘First of all moving back home,’ I say, packing everything in my bag. ‘New York never really was the place for me.’ After paying for my snacks, I walk out of the store, only to hear the footsteps of the guy who just won’t leave me alone following behind me.

‘Did you hear that professor Marshall is quitting?’

Yes, I actually helped him writing his resignation letter. ‘Oh,’ I say, ‘I didn’t.’

‘Apparently he got a job offer somewhere else.’

Yep, in Maryland. ‘Good for him,’ I say. ‘Well, I gotta go. Bye, Fitzgerald.’

He wants to say something, but then his eyes widen. ‘Yeah, bye,’ he says. He quickly turns around and is gone by the time I looked over my shoulder at him.

What was that about?

When I look up, I glare at Walter, who is standing on the other side of the road, leaning against a street light, his arms crossed. I walk up to him and without saying a word at first, we get mixed into the crowd. ‘What was that about?’ I ask him.

‘Nothing,’ he says, a little too nonchalant for my liking, ‘just wanted to make sure that you weren’t carrying anything too heavy.’ He pulls the bags from my hands and adds: ‘I hate that snotty kid.’

‘I had everything under control,’ I say, poking his side. ‘Did you see him scooting away?’

‘I wish I had it on video,’ Walter chuckles.

My parents are already in the U-haul they rented to make moving as quickly and easy as possible for us and I hand them some snacks.

‘Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re moving back,’ mom says, after our final pee. Walter just handed over the key to the realtor of his loft and stands behind me, before he says: ‘I know I am happy to move to Maryland. I quite love the place already.’ He presses a kiss on my temple.

My parents get in the U-haul and I wave to them as they drive off. Walter helps me in the truck and when he sits next to me, he gives me a kiss. ‘I love you,’ he tells me.

‘I love you too, Walter.’ I take off my sweater, before strapping myself in the seatbelt. ‘It’s ridiculously hot in here,’ I say, leaning back against the seat.

‘Twenty bucks you are gonna be cold within half an hour.’

I glare at him. ‘That’s mean.’

‘Ah, princess, don’t pout. You know how that makes me weak.’ I continue to tut my bottom lip out and he chuckles. ‘Let’s just hope the baby doesn’t get your pout, because otherwise I can never say no.’

‘No matter what the baby looks like,’ I say, ‘you’re gonna be unable to say no anyway. You are such a push over with me, this baby will wrap you around their finger in no time.’

‘Ai, exposed.’ He holds my hand in his as he drives off and gives me a kiss on my knuckles.

‘You thought about the co sleeping thing I mentioned to you?’ I ask him.

He sighs. ‘Yes and I’m not sure about it. I mean, we could place a crib in our room, right?’

‘But that’s so sad for the baby. To be alone like that after living inside my stomach for so long. What if they don’t be to be alone? They are not gonna sleep in our bed forever, Walter.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘but… what if I crush them? I mean, they would be in between us, so… That means no sleep for me.’

I start to laugh. ‘That was your worry? Oh, Walter.’ Since I’m already close to him, I wrap my arms around his neck to give him a kiss on his cheek. ‘Aren’t you absolutely darling?’

I actually spot a faint blush on his cheeks.

I decide not to push it any further, because I feel like this co sleep thing is something that needs to simmer for awhile. ‘Can I ask a question?’ I ask.

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘What if something goes wrong,’ I start, but he is having none of it.

‘No, no, no, nothing is gonna go wrong.’

‘But what if?’ I say. ‘I mean, something could go wrong during birth.’

He clenches his jaw, not wanting to talk about it obviously. ‘I see,’ he mumbles.

‘What I wanted to say was that if I am unable to answer, that you should decide what happens, okay? I’m one hundred percent sure you are going to choose the right thing for us.’

He smiles. ‘That’s what you wanted to tell me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh, princess, princess, don’t scare me like that, okay?’

I smile. ‘Sorry.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Walter and I bought a house and never in a million years did I expect to have this type of domestic life at only twenty one, however it’s exactly the life I have now and I wouldn’t change it for the world. The move from New York and Maryland went pretty swiftly, especially because my parents helped a lot, since it’s only twenty minutes from my parents’ place.

The place we chose was already pretty great, but Walter and I decided—okay, I decided—that some wallpaper should cheer it up. It was a lot of white and it made me feel like I was at a dentist. There’s lots of pastel going on now, mint green, baby blue, soft pink and some yellow.

However, Walter did all the work, because he doesn’t want me to do anything. Too much work can’t be good for the baby, princess.

He now works at the Maryland Police Department and he is actually enjoying it a lot. He now is on patrol duties, but it will only take a few months before he is back as a detective again.

Weeks have gone by and today marks me being twenty seven weeks pregnant. I won’t lie about it, but I’m very over this pregnancy already. Everything hurts. My head hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs hurts and don’t get me started on my back. I’m mostly sitting on the couch, reading both informative books and novels if I’m not mindlessly watching Netflix shows.

I am a horrendous cook, but I continue to try some things for Walter, because I hate it that he has to both work and cook himself some dinner when he’s off.

Walter comes back from work and smiles when he sees me. ‘There is my beautiful woman,’ he says. ‘Princess, princess, aren’t you gorgeous.’

‘Stop,’ I chuckle, trying to get up from the couch, but fail miserably. ‘I’m sorry, but dinner got burned.’

He smiles. ‘That’s okay, princess. I’ll order some take out, don’t you worry.’

‘I’m really useless,’ I admit. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He scoffs. ‘Don’t say stuff like that. You’re never useless.’ He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. ‘Tell me what did you do today?’

‘I went to that meeting,’ I say, ‘talked about being a first time mom. It’s just that…’ I place my head against his shoulder. ‘I’m scared.’

‘Why is that, princess?’

‘What if I’m a terrible mom?’

‘You’re not gonna be a terrible mom,’ he retorts. ‘The audacity to think you’re gonna be a terrible mom, when I know that you are nothing but sweet, kind, lovely and you will be a wonderful mom.’

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Really, darling.’ He places his hand on my stomach and says: ‘It’s okay to be scared, however, you have nothing to worry about. Not when I am right here for the two of you.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next day, while my mom and I are folding some baby clothes, we watch dad and Walter finish the crib. Mom has been sharing embarrassing baby stories about me and to make things even worse, my dad adds a few stories to it, some I didn’t even know.

Thankfully Walter really enjoys them, because he chuckles loudly. It took him awhile, but he is really liking it, having my parents around.

‘You really don’t want to know the gender?’ mom asks me.

‘No,’ I say, ‘I like to be surprised.’

‘Walter,’ my mom sighs, ‘can’t you talk some sense into her?’

‘Sorry, CC,’ he says, ‘but I kinda like the surprise too.’

She scoffs, before she lets out a chuckle. The baby already made the bond between my parents and I a lot tighter and for that I’m forever grateful.

I resit a little and Walter wouldn’t be Walter if he didn’t notice immediately I was slightly uncomfortable. ‘Princess, are you okay?’

‘Yeah, just my back hurts.’

‘How about you go to bed?’ Walter suggests. ‘Rest a little? You’ve been up pretty early on.’ When I don’t stand up immediately, he walks over to me and crouches down in front of me. ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Nothing, just tired and in pain, that’s all.’

He nods, pulls me up and holds my hand tightly in his. I want to apologize to my parents, but my mom simply tells me not to worry. ‘Pregnancy can be rough, darling,’ she says, ‘so please don’t worry.’

I wonder if it’s hard for my mom to see me pregnant, when she couldn’t get pregnant herself. She never said it to me, but still I wonder from time to time. Even if she does have some hard feelings against it, she never shows it, as she is super supportive of the pregnancy. I give her a kiss, just like I give my dad a kiss and mom says: ‘Walter, did you even sleep last night?’

‘No, this one woke me up,’ he says with a smile.

‘You should sleep as well. You had a late shift the day before yesterday and you two should get a lot of sleep when you can. When the baby is here, she’ll keep you up.’

‘We really don’t know the gender, mom,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know if they are gonna be a he or a she.’

‘Worth a shot, you gotta give me that. Okay, you go rest, we finish up in here and let ourselves out. We love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I say back, before Walter and I walk towards the bedroom. He helps me out of my sweatpants and into the bed. I hug the pregnancy pillow, and the bed dips down a bit when Walter gets underneath the thin blanket behind me. He places his hand on my stomach, before kissing my temple. ‘You comfortable, sweetheart?’

‘I am,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry I’m keeping you up.’

‘No, don’t do that.’

It only causes me to sniffle, but Walter knows exactly what to do when I have these slight emotional outbursts. He pulls my back closer against his chest, despite him being very warm, he tugs the blankets over our bodies and warms me up even more, giving me more kisses on the side of my face. ‘It can get pretty rough, princess,’ he says, ‘and that’s okay. Just let it all out, okay?’

‘Why are you so sweet?’ I hiccup.

He chuckles. ‘Well, you’re gonna be the mom of our kid and you’re my girlfriend. Of course I’m gonna be sweet to you. Forever and ever, princess. Forever and ever.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #walter marshall x penny townsend #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #penny townsend #asian ofc #but professor

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meinkampfortzone · 3 years

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Who Was Hans-Joachim Marseille’s Fiancee?: An Opinion-Based Commentary, Part 2

(cont. from Part 1):

HJM’s Family’s Attitude Toward Hanne-Lies

So one of the things I noticed when I first started getting curious about finding out who HJM’s fiancee was was the fact that she seemed so comfortable around his mom. That was, in fact, one of the first indicators to me that she was a bit older than him, other than her face. Had she been around his age, most of their interactions would have taken place outside of the house, away from his parents, so that they could make the most of their time alone together. That was, in fact, the norm among young people in the 40s, especially with the growing availability of cars which made getting around a lot easier and faster. When in the presence of each others’ parents, both parties had to act very reserved toward each other, and refrain from things such as holding hands or kissing, etc. (their parents would have been from the generation born in the 1800s, where doing things like that in public was inappropriate and prospective couples were meant to act with restraint when together). Therefore, the fact that 85% of the interactions between Hanne-Lies and HJM (except for the outing in Bad Saarow and their trip to Rome) took place at his parents’ apartment in Berlin was something that stood out to me. I took this to mean that Hanne-Lies was either a friend of the family or mature enough to want to spend time with and build a relationship with her future mother-in-law. As my research later proved, the latter ended up being true.

After Hans-Joachim Marseille’s death, Hanne-Lies was allowed to live in Bad Saarow in Charlotte Marseille’s summer house that she owned there. I found this strange because Hanne-Lies had only known HJM and subsequently his family for approximately 7 months (they met in March 1942; he died in September 1942), which was hardly a long enough time for Charlotte Marseille to get to trust her enough to give her her house and allow her to live in it. Hanne-Lies remained in that house, keeping it as her main residence, until she got married in 1944 to former LSSAH member Martin Stephani. This led me to think that perhaps, like her son, Charlotte Marseille saw something in Hanne-Lies that reminded her of her dead daughter Inge, and due to the fact that she had lost her daughter so recently, she built a good relationship with Hanne-Lies. After HJM died, I believe that Charlotte Marseille sort of saw Hanne-Lies as the last thing she had left of her deceased son, and decided to let her have the house and stay there for as long as she needed as a sort of gesture of goodwill.

This is a picture of HJM at a bar in Berlin called the Regina Bar (between the two girls) and Hanne-Lies (at the other end of the table). This was taken during his leave in 1942, during which he met Hanne-Lies and became engaged to her. Notice that even in the presence of his fiancee HJM has no issue cozying up to other women. Judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t seem too pleased about it either.

HJM’s Comrades/Contemporaries’ Attitudes/Opinions Concerning His Engagement

Another thing that I find sort of striking is the complete lack of commentary on the part of HJM’s comrades and friends concerning his engagement, or rather, his lack of commitment to his fiancee. According to Colin Heaton, the news of HJM’s engagement “shocked” those who knew him, only because of his playboy nature. However, once that shock subsided, and everyone saw HJM going back to his old ways and sleeping with various women, not one of his comrades thought to mention how they found it strange that he was engaged and yet having all of these publicized affairs. Although sex outside of marriage, etc. was common in the 1940s, it wasn’t until the 1980s that it became the norm. Up until then, infidelity and sexual promiscuity was kept carefully under wraps, more so for women than men. However, back in those days engagement was essentially a binding contract--the couple was considered married for all intents and purposes until they actually went and legally tied the knot. I found it strange that Marseille’s comrades and those who knew him, when interviewed about him, had no problem talking about his various sexual escapades but didn’t mention how he still did these things while he was engaged. I would have expected at least one of them to mention how it was strange that he continued to do this even after he was committed to one woman. It was almost as if the existence of Hanne-Lies in HJM’s life was unknown to them. This led me to believe that maybe HJM never bothered to tell anyone he was engaged or probably only mentioned it in passing and never really made a big deal about it, or perhaps his comrades knew that this was just part of his nature and that it was foolish to think that he could ever be faithful to one person.

When asked to describe the nature of HJM and Hanne-Lies’ relationship, Hans-Rudolf Marseille (HJM’s half-brother) proceeded to talk about how he convinced her to go to Rome.

Of all the things he could have said that would demonstrate that they really loved each other and that there was something between them, he chose this anecdote, which really doesn’t demonstrate anything between them.

Even the members of the Nazi high command who had interacted with Marseille, when interviewed by Colin Heaton, had no issue talking about how, when receiving a complaint from an Italian officer who stated that Marseille had “violated the family honor”, they all had a good laugh about it, and one of them even said, “Damn it, Marseille, have some shame, man.” However, none of them bothered to point out that this was going on while he was engaged, which was something he had even mentioned to Hermann Goering. Overall, none of the members of the high-ranking Nazi hierarchy seemed surprised at his behavior in the slightest.

Some Miscellaneous Points

1- All of the people who were close to HJM gave interviews about him or attended events commemorating him and gave speeches/contributed to the event in some way, shape, or form. Many of the primary sources used in Colin Heaton’s book come from interviews conducted with many of Marseille’s comrades, such as Eduard Neumann, Ludwig Franzisket, and Emil Clade. Marseille’s mother, Charlotte, attended the premier of the 1957 film “Stern von Afrika”, and an article appeared in Der Spiegel featuring her and the actor who played her son, Joachim Hansen. In the article, she thanks Hansen for his stellar portrayal of her son.

Hans-Rudolf Marseille assisted authors and historians writing and researching about HJM, such as Franz Kurowski and Walter Wubbe, and also gave interviews, snippets of which were included in a 1999 documentary about HJM’s life. It was because of the efforts of Eduard Neumann and other airmen who had flown with Marseille that a set of Luftwaffe barracks in Appen were renamed the “Marseille Barracks” (Marseille-Kaserne in German). Even Marseille’s batman, Mathew “Matthias” Letulu, gave an eulogy for Marseille in Germany during a ceremony held at the monument for Marseille in the Egyptian desert.

The only person who had been closer to him than most of the people mentioned above, his ex-fiancee, was strangely absent from all of these efforts. Other than making an appearance at the 1967 Fighter Pilots’ Reunion event at Furstenfeldbruck, where she attended as a guest of honor with Charlotte Marseille (and this appearance isn’t even documented, as there are no photos of her at the event), she never gave any interviews about her ex-fiance, nor did she contribute to the efforts being made by those who knew him to keep his memory alive.

2- During his interview, Hans-Rudolf Marseille showed a plethora of letters he had collected that had been sent by HJM to various members of his family--his mother, his sister, even his father. Some of these letters were reproduced and included in Walter Wubbe’s book “Hauptmann Marseille”. But with regards to any written correspondence between Hanne-Lies and HJM, there are absolutely no letters or anything whatsoever between them. Given the fact that they got engaged during one of HJM’s leaves, and they only saw each other once more after that when he was on vacation, it would make sense that they would be constantly writing to each other. Yet there doesn’t seem to be any sort of correspondence between them, at least as far as Hans-Rudolf Marseille’s cache of letters is concerned. The only testament to their relationship is the scarf that Hanne-Lies gave to HJM, and the photo she gave him of herself with “Ich habe dich sehr liebe!!” written on the back.

3- When I read that Hanne-Lies had given HJM a picture of herself with “Ich habe dich sehr liebe” written on the back, I was curious because “Ich liebe dich” is “I love you” in German. Thus, I set out to find the difference in meaning between “Ich habe dich liebe” and “Ich liebe dich.” I found an answer to this on a German language learning forum that I’ll include below.

In Closing...

When I think of what Hans-Joachim Marseille’s love life should have looked like, I immediately think of the relationship between Alain Delon and Romy Schneider (not how it ended, Alain cheated on her with another woman and she refused to get back together with him, but just how aesthetically pleasing they were and how big of a power couple they were in the years they were together.)

I believe that he only got engaged to Hanne-Lies because of the emotional turmoil he was going through at the time. I think that even if they had gotten married, their marriage would have never lasted long. After all, grief isn’t forever, and eventually he would have realized that with that therapist aspect gone, there isn’t actually anything that binds him to Hanne-Lies at all. Hanne-Lies, too, would have had a hard time putting up with his infidelity and flighty personality, especially since she would have been reaching that age when she wants to have children and start a family and settle down (she was almost 30 when she got engaged to HJM). I honestly just wish that Inge Marseille wouldn’t have died so that HJM could have actually gone and found someone who had the personality and temperament to be his other half. I feel like, had he met someone like that, they would literally have been the power couple of the Third Reich.

I’d love to hear your guys’ comments/opinions regarding this in the comments. Thanks for reading!

#hans-joachim-marseille #hans joachim marseille #jochenmarseille

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faecaptainofdreams · 4 years

Photo

This character belongs to FursonaKittenMittens!! Also keep in mind that time in fandoms is a tad subjective and just depends on the moment it's projected, so while this leaps a bit into the future just...try to not harp on that too much ^^; It messes with ME a little, not gonna lie, but i love it SO MUCH, UFF. Enjoy~ ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~~Sky Davis~~ Born in California to well-set parents as Joel Davis, Sky was a born and raised beach bum who could afford to live easy. His parents could not, for the life of them, keep him off the beach, and so they simply encouraged him. When he was 10, Joel took up wake boarding...mostly because the idea of him full-on surfing freaked his parents out. Around the age of 11, Joel began to consider his gender identity. He didn't feel like a boy, but he didn't feel like a girl, either. He'd always felt different, but now it was something he couldn't escape entirely. It didn't help that he personally never liked the name "Joel" for himself. After a couple of years, when he was 15, Joel discovered he was actually they, and began to identify as non-binary. They chose the name Sky, and their parents were actually quite supportive. If their child was happy, they were happy. This same year, Sky decided they wanted to someday become a marine biologist. They started scuba diving; they adored the sea life and the beauty of all the ocean held. The sun, the surf, it was all an integral part of them. Sky started studying everything relating to marine life they could, and began looking into colleges to eventually get into for their future. When they were 18, the Summer following high school graduation, Sky was out boarding with their friends, Donna Adams, Jacob Morgan and Aden O'Brian. Jacob, who was dating Donna and had aspired to become a pro surfer, was attacked by a shark and left alive, but rapidly bleeding to death. Sky and friends dragged him back to shore with attention and help from the life guard. It was a horrendous disaster of a day, and Jacob ended up dying from his wounds in the hospital. Sky was traumatized. Unable to face it, they decided it would be best to leave California all together and get away from that beautiful ocean. They told their parents that it was to go get basic college courses out of the way somewhere else, but it was a lie and their parents knew it. But there was only so much advice they could give, and because their child was now an adult, they couldn't stop them. They only offered their love and support. So Sky moved to Washington DC when they were almost 20 years old. They have visited their parents a couple of times, but haven't been in the ocean since that horrible day. ~~Partnership~~ When Sky is 24 and working at a coffee shop, they lock eyes with a 23-year-old Walter Beckett picking up a couple of things for himself and Lance before heading off to work one morning. Seeing Walter as a tad star-struck and fumbling over himself, Sky decides then and there that this boy is cute, and puts themselves out on the line by writing their cell number and first name on one of the coffee cups. Walter doesn't notice the number until he's already in the car with Lance. After days of nervous deliberation, he texts the number, and he and Sky begin talking. They quickly meet up and, despite both being shy, are relatively forward with what they thought of each other when they met in the coffee shop. Sky had had on a couple of badges with their identity colors on them, so Walter had already known they were NB. They decide to strike up a bit of a friendship, and then give dating a try. Walter has never dated anyone, so he expresses a lot of concerns, but Sky is patient and admits they're nervous, too. After a couple of months spent dating, Walter, Sky, and several other friends take a day trip to a beach a few hours away. Sky doesn't speak up about their past, not wanting to weigh the group down or reveal too much about themselves so suddenly. But once they get there and everyone is out in the water having fun, a little teasing from August (OC) prompts an anxiety-driven emotional breakdown and a flashback. Sky runs off and locks themselves in one of the cars they'd rode down in together, but Walter follows them. After picking the lock and getting to Sky and helping them calm down, Walter coaxes them into telling him what had gone wrong. A mournful Sky finally confesses, and Walter is nothing but embracing and loving. When he asks why Sky hadn't told them this, and Sky gives their answer, Walter lets them know that everyone would've been just as happy to do something else together, or even alternate between a few people doing the beach while a few others hung out with Sky somewhere else fun. He tells them that next time (because there WILL be a next time), this is what they will do. He encourages Sky to hold his hand and come clean about their past to the others later on, and needless to say everyone is understanding. They go back home at the end of the day on good terms. The experience bonds Walter and Sky a little more, and a little less than two weeks later, they become intimate for the first time. Sky will move into Walter's house about a year later. ~~Today~~ Sky is going to once-weekly therapy for their trauma, as suggested by Walter. They deeply want to overcome their fear of the ocean, as they honestly still love it and miss it dearly. They want to wake board again someday. They still work at the coffee shop, but Sky's ambition is to someday get the courage to go to college and pursue their dreams. For now, they are content with Walter, and are trying to work out their issues through love and support. ~~Personality~~ Sky is laid back and easygoing, but surprisingly smart and has a love of nature that is highly compatible with Walter and their new peer group. They don't anger easily, but they're also not the constant ray of sunshine their boyfriend is. Though of course, basically no one is. Easy to get along with, and sometimes surprisingly submissive. ~~Physiology~~ Sky is 5'7" and has a tight, lean body. They aren't overly built, but they're a tad muscular from a life having been spent on the water. In the years since the incident, they've stayed in shape with other exercise and good diet. Being NB, Sky sometimes likes to wear female clothing or a stark mix. They may also do their hair up in buns or ponytails, wear a hint of makeup, or whatever they please. Sometimes, they allow their facial hair to grow out a tiny bit, but usually not much or for long. No matter the look, Walter loves every one of them. ~~Preference~~ Sky is bisexual, but admittedly prefers men. They had a girlfriend in high school but broke up because, well, high school romances tend to be shallow, and they dated a girl after moving to DC. She was a tad manipulative and believed it was wrong for people to pleasure themselves if they're in a relationship, and reprimanded Sky for a number of things. She also tried to get them to embrace being more masculine. After a few months together, Sky felt like they were obligated to have sex with her, and so they did. It's always been something they've sort of regretted, as it only played more into her manipulation. Thankfully, the ever-calm and well-tempered Sky broke it off with her. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------

Now they are happy with Walter :”3

#Spies in Disguise #Walter Beckett #SkyWalt #oc #bio

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Faith for the Future

Chapter Three

Journaling the Heart

Mulder takes advantage of the peace and quiet of the house to reread his journal to Faith.

7c/15

Mulder waited until he knew Scully was asleep before he slowly got out of bed. He watched her sleeping for a few seconds and then stepped out the door and walked to Faith’s room. He looked in on her sleeping, watching her tiny chest rising and falling. Smiling at her, he shook his head before heading to the stairs.

He looked at the rooms that held the women he loved most in the world and smiled again before walking quietly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step so that he would not wake Scully.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he slipped on the slippers Mrs. Scully had given him years ago. They were wearing down a bit, but he would keep them, no matter the holes and how they broke down. He shuffled into the kitchen, turned on the light and made half a pot of coffee. Grabbing his mug and a pack of Pop-Tarts, he walked over to the couch.

He set down the items on the coffee table and then grabbed his laptop, turned on the lights behind the couch, and sat down with a sigh. He opened the laptop and waited for it to turn on. He ripped open the foil package and took out a Pop-Tart, shoving it in his mouth, chewing as the screen asked for his password.

Typing it in, he waited for it to continue waking up, as he took a drink of coffee and set down his mug, shoving another huge bite into his mouth. He looked toward the stairs and thankfully heard nothing. Good.

Since Scully had been attending her baby yoga class, he had begun working on the idea that had come to him as he rocked Faith to sleep a few weeks ago. A history of their past on paper, or more appropriately, into a Google document to tell Faith when she was older.

Twice a week, for the past month, for a few hours during the day, he sat at his laptop and wrote a journal to his daughter so that she would know what her parents had done in their lives- before. Before they became this little trio, with a hope that one day, the missing piece to their family quartet would return.

He was almost at a point where he could show Scully what he had written. He had gotten up for the past couple of nights, needing some extra time to write down his thoughts. Being up when it was quiet, he felt calm as he reread what he wrote, adding to what he had and taking out parts that were too intense.

He scrolled the mouse across the screen and opened the ever-expanding document that he had been working on, skimming it. When he started, he simply wrote whatever came to mind. Not surprisingly, he started with a funny case. One that was truly one of his favorites: Daryl Mootz, the “Rain King” of Kroner, Kansas.

“Beyond the case and the belief that one man was controlling the weather and profiting off it no less, my sweet girl, there was a love story I had not anticipated. It had not been Daryl controlling the weather at all but a quiet, unassuming Holman Hardt.

Years of his unknown and thus unrequited love for Sheila had led to strange weather phenomena throughout the town. When I figured it out, Holman had asked for my advice and the best way to talk to Sheila. You read that right, honey, your old dad had been asked for dating advice. He said he had seen the way I gazed at Mama, so I must have some good advice to give. Well, I made a point to deny that, of course, I did not gaze at her.

By the time you read this, Faith, you will know that was a lie. I could not and I still cannot help but gaze at your Mama. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Besides her beauty though, she is the smartest person I know. Her intelligence amazes me every day. How could I not be expected to gaze at someone like her?”

He sat forward, took a drink of coffee and set down the mug. Looking back at the story, marveling again at the love he found within. Holman and Sheila and him and Scully. He remembered how they had been mistaken for a married couple on separate occasions with Scully sighing and bristling, which he found hilarious. Watching her roll her eyes and sigh, made him laugh and make jokes, loving the look on her face.

“Little girl, during that case, I know I was guilty of looking at her the way Holman had suggested, but he only saw the surface. He saw that I gazed at her, but he did not see that I longed for her. She was there, right beside me every day, but not the way I wanted. I was terrified to tell her how I truly felt, worried she would not feel the same or leave me because it was unprofessional to have those feelings. I very casually and cavalierly told Holman to take a leap, but I did not have the courage to do the same. I was a chicken, no denying it. But, my love, somehow I knew it would have been a disaster and not the right time for us.”

Pausing in his reading, he remembered Holman’s parting words, “You should try it sometime.” Well, he thought with a smile, it took a while, but when he had finally taken that leap, and kissed her the first time, it had been well worth the wait.

Taking another drink of coffee, he moved onto the next story. A supposed vampire attack in Chaney, Texas.

“Sitting in our office, seeing Mama arrive at work, our meeting with Uncle Walter imminent, I had been … we can just call it “on edge.” The family of Ronnie Strickland was considering suing the bureau for $446 million, we had the possibility of jail time hanging over us both, and all because I had, as Mama put it, “overreacted.” Faith, I knew I had to do what I did. I was right. Ronnie was a vampire. I had to put a stake through his heart because that is the only way to kill a vampire.

Still, while we both sat in the office, our meeting growing ever closer, I wanted to be sure that we both had seen what the other had seen. That we were on the same page.

Well, by now, you have a good grasp on who your mother and I are, and you know we can definitely disagree and not see things the same way. We each told what we remembered, and, well, we may have over exaggerated the other’s part in the story. Mama painted me as more exuberant, and I painted her as less. It was … well, it was interesting.

But, while we had varied versions of the same experience, we were on the same page when it was most important. Our stories eventually corroborated the other. There had been vampires in that little town and Ronnie Strickland had been one of them. I saw that before and even more so after we went back to Chaney.

Why did we need to go back, I hear you asking. Oh, because Ronnie came back to life. The coroner was attacked when he removed the stake I had put in his chest.

Amateurs, am I right? They clearly had never seen any of the literally thousands of vampire films or read any books about it either.

When we went back to investigate, we separated to check on different leads. Both of us were drugged and left where we had fallen, giving them time to pull up stakes, and get the heck out of Dodge- er Chaney. We never found them. All of them left, even Sheriff Hartwell, whom your Mama will swear was handsome and did not have buck teeth. We know the truth though, my love. We know.”

He smiled, knowing that when the day came, and Faith mentioned the story of Ronnie and Sheriff Hartwell, she would be on his side. Team Buck Teeth all the way. He was not whispering it to her every night just for fun.

He continued to skim down the page and his eye landed on a different story. His stomach clenched when he looked at it. Padgett, Naciamento, and the milagro. He had almost lost Scully. Reading it again, he debated whether to keep it in the journal but then nodded. She needed to hear the bad with the good.

Instead of focusing on the gory parts, he chose to tell Faith about his own feelings and thoughts. His fear, curiosity, and worries.

“Faith, one day I will expand on this story. One day, if she wants to tell you, Mama will also explain it in more detail and give you her account of how she felt. For now, you will have a few paragraphs from me.

This case was hard on both of us. The man who was eventually found to have caused the hurt of others lived next to me in my old apartment. He was a writer and had purposely moved there to observe Mama and see who she was as a person. He wrote a book about her, or more accurately, who he wanted her to be. He may have thought he knew her, but he was mistaken. He knew what he may have seen, but she is so much more than what was observed.

He wrote beautiful words that described her, I will not deny that, but I never needed fancy words to know of your mother’s beauty. She radiated it everywhere she went. No makeup, soaking wet, covered in dirt or some other substance, she was always beautiful because she was her.

During the course of this case, I grew worried about your Mama. Now, I know she can take care of herself, but I also know her, and I saw how she was affected. She covered it at times, but I saw. I became protective and angry. I wanted to hurt this man who seemed so brazen in his watching of her. He was not aware that his words, while flattering, made her uncomfortable. He was so drawn to what he wanted to happen that he failed to actually see her.

When he did ... when he was no longer close to us, he said as much. He admitted that he had made a mistake. He finally saw that she was not in love with him, as he had hoped, but with someone else. Honey, I cannot lie to you, hearing those words from him was like ice in my veins and made me freeze where I stood. My heart pounded so hard in my chest at the thought it could be me he was talking about, I was sure everyone could hear it. This man wrote fiction, terrible fiction, without a doubt, but … I wanted those words to be true, and I wanted them to be about me.

Faith, on that same day, I almost lost your Mama. Had it not been for a decision made by the writer, your Mama would have been gone and far away.

She was hurt, Faith. Badly hurt. I found her on my apartment floor, not sure if she was breathing, but then she woke up. She was scared and reached for me, pulling me close to her. I could feel her fingers digging into my neck, not letting go of me, and I held her as tightly as I could. I was terrified that I had lost her and there was no chance that I was going to let her go. If I could have held her forever, I would have.”

He sighed as he leaned his head against the couch and closed his eyes. After everything they had been through, seeing her soaked in her own blood from a wound that he could not find terrified him. Her deep red, pungent blood stuck to his clothes and pooled on his floor. It was a memory that would be burned into his brain forever. He loved her, and he almost lost her again. Yet, even as he held her, he said nothing.

Opening his eyes, he sighed again. Mistakes and fears in the past could not be changed, but they could be learned from. He had been learning, and he would continue to do so. To evolve, as he told Scully they needed to do. He glanced at the computer again and groaned when his eyes landed on another one that made his stomach clench.

Robert Patrick Modell.

“Faith, my girl, this is another one we can talk about in more detail one day. There are parts of this case that remain delicate and should be treated as such. I will tell you that this person came into our lives twice and each time, your Mama was stronger than I ever could be.

Modell was able to put the whammy on people. That is a reference that you will not understand (it is so old) and one that will make your Mama roll her eyes. However, it does adequately describe what he could do to people.

Somehow, he had the ability to make people do what he wanted and make them think a certain way. He got inside of their minds and controlled them. We saw it happen before our eyes. It was equal parts terrifying and intriguing. How was anyone able to do that to a person?

He focused in on me, calling me out and demanding my attention. He was ill and at a hospital, and I decided that it would be best to face him on my own to reduce the risk of others (including your Mama) being in harm's way.

Your Mama and I, we are a team, and always will be. (Even if I sneak you cookies when she is not watching.) We were a team then, but I walked into the hospital where Modell was on my own. I gave him what he wanted, and I left my teammate behind, believing she was safer there than by my side. What an idiot I was sometimes.

Faith, you need to understand something about your Daddy. I was a bit more impulsive than I am now. Daddy in the past did not always pause and take ten seconds to count, a breath to cool down, or a walk to try and recenter my thoughts. No, I was impulsive. If I saw a big button, I had to push it. If a sign said not to enter, well, that was an open invitation to climb the fence and walk in. Your Mama, on the other hand, has always been the cool head trying to steer me in the right direction.

Understanding that, of course, Mama had come in to help me. She walked into the room where I was in trouble, and she never wavered. Never, until I went too far and scared her and made her cry. Faith, seeing your Mama cry has always broken my heart, and that day was no exception. Her tears and the look on her face, reached me more than anything else ever could. Knowing I was the cause of her pain, I had to stop it, but I needed her to help me. As a team, we helped each other and stopped the bad guy. We won that day.”

He shut the computer down, leaving it on his lap, put his feet on the coffee table, crossed his arms, and leaned his head back again. He shook his head as he thought of Scully’s face, her blue eyes full of tears, her words finally reaching him, from so far away. Her safety, in that case, had been what he worried about most, and he would be damned if he was the cause of her suffering or her possible death.

When he heard a soft, light noise, his eyes flew open. Scully was standing at the bottom of the stairs, apparently having bypassed the creaky stair just as he had done several hours ago. She stared at him and he at her.

Her eyes were sleepy, her hair mussed. She was wearing one of his long-sleeved shirts and an old pair of pajama shorts. She walked over to him, moved the laptop to the coffee table and climbed into his lap. Her arms went around his waist, her chest flush against his as his hands went around her back and into her hair. She sighed and burrowed deeper into him.

“Come back to bed, Mulder,” she said sleepily.

He chuckled lightly and ran his fingers through her hair. “Five more minutes,” he whispered with a smile, seeing if she would remember.

“Five minutes,” she said sternly.

He laughed again, and she breathed a laugh against his neck. He knew she was thinking of the same memory.

Arriving home from California after that horrible movie premiere, they came to his apartment. She walked in and sat on the couch with a huge sigh. He looked at her, and she patted the spot next to her. She sat forward, and took off her boots as he sat down. She scooted around and laid down on the couch, putting her feet in his lap. Smiling at her, he reached out and began to rub her feet, causing her to sigh and close her eyes.

“We should get some food, but I can’t fathom getting off this couch and putting my shoes back on,” she said in a tired voice. He laughed softly and kept rubbing her feet.

“We could order in,” he said, tickling her feet and making her giggle. “What sounds good?”

“Chinese,” she said, attempting to pull her feet back as he grabbed them and held them still. She looked at him and he nodded.

He got off the couch and picked up his phone, ordering their usual from Ling Palace, adding an extra side of egg rolls as Scully whispered loudly for them in the background. Hanging up, he sat back down and put her feet in his lap again. He rubbed them, and she sighed.

His hands moved further up her legs, rubbing her calves and listening to her moan and breathe his name as he worked. He ran his nails across her shins causing her to jump and scramble up into his lap. When her arms had gone around his neck and her lips had fallen onto his, his hands pulled her closer while his lips moved to her neck. She threw her head back and dug her nails into his scalp, his name falling from her lips as she fell further into his lap.

“How long did they say before the food would be here?” she asked breathlessly. He chuckled, his tongue trailing up her neck to her ear. He kissed his way across her jaw, landing on her lips, their tongues meeting in a slow kiss. Her hands went his hair, rocking her hips into him, both of them groaning.

“Too soon,” he murmured against her lips, before kissing her again, his hands coming to rest in her hair. They sat there, kissing and whispering to one another, waiting for the knock on the door, and the arrival of their dinner.

When they heard it, Scully kissed him once more and climbed off of his lap. She glanced down at his crotch, and smirked at him, seeing he was in no condition to answer the door and held out her hand. He raised his eyebrows and she smiled.

“I need your wallet,” she said, snapping her fingers. “I spent the last of my cash buying that set of California magnets you just “had to have.”” He laughed and leaned up to grab it from his back pocket and handed it to her. He watched her walk to the door, staring at her in her socked feet, feeling content.

Being here with her like this on the couch in the quiet, kissing her the way he had wanted to for years, he felt happy and peaceful. The door shut and Scully walked back toward him with the meal they were about to share. Once again, he felt those words he wanted to tell her bubbling up and threatening to spill out. She set the bag down and smiled at him.

“Plates? Or just out of the containers?” she asked him.

“Containers are fine,” he said, opening the bag and taking out the food. She went into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of water and two forks. She set them down as she sat next to him and reached for a container. He picked one up, and for a few minutes, they were both quiet, swapping containers between them as they reached for egg rolls.

With dinner finished, they settled back into the couch. She moved a bit and leaned her head on his shoulder so that his arm could come to rest around her. She took a deep breath as he leaned his head against hers. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she moved to accommodate him as he leaned over, allowing for them to lay side-by-side on the couch with their arms wrapped tightly around the other.

She kissed his neck and then nuzzled into his embrace, her breath warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, feeling her arms around his waist. Her nails scratched lightly at his back, though not in a sexual manner. He smiled, and they both lay quietly. Her breathing began to even out as he ran his fingers in her hair.

“I need to get home,” she said in a low sleepy voice. “Back to work tomorrow. I have things to do there.” She sighed and snuggled closer to him.

“Stay, Scully,” he whispered to her. “Stay here with me.”

“Okay,” she agreed quickly and softly. “But, we should move to the bedroom, so that we can get a good night’s sleep, change out of these pants, and get more comfortable.”

“Mmm-hmmm. Five more minutes, Scully,” he said sleepily, kissing her forehead. She echoed his words, but those five minutes turned into an hour, and an hour into a couple more.

She woke first and kissed him awake. Getting off the couch, they stretched and stumbled into his room together. They both undressed, climbing into bed in their underwear, immediately reaching for one another again. Whispering good night, they fell asleep, embracing for one more night before the real world came knocking.

“Five minutes, Scully,” he whispered and she hummed out her skeptical response, as he smiled.

“Time’s ticking,” she whispered and he laughed.

Five more minutes. Ten. A lifetime. Whatever he got, he would be happy, as long as she was with him.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Family Life: The Story Beyond the Series #Domestic Life #Memories #Journaling #Sharing the past #Cuddling #Love #Family

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gwenore · 6 years

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Changeling Troubles. Chapter 6.

Chapter 11: Jim and Strickler have a talk and Strickler offers an alliance.

Synopsis: Barbara knows her friend and crush from college Walter Strickler is a changeling, trouble comes when she figures out he is not the only changeling she has met in her life. Jim is trying to balance his teenage life and being the trollhunter when he experiences certain… changes, which makes his life a whole lot more troublesome.

The drive up towards the outlook point was silent though Jim was glaring at his teacher, their eyes meeting a couple of times in the mirror.

Jim’s teeth gritted his teeth together. He was so pissed, a rage he had never really felt before. Never before had he been betrayed like this. Strickler was a man he trusted! Someone he felt he could talk to when he could talk to no one else would listen. It had been strange when he thought was dating his mom… but to find out that he was two faced. Literally! And that he had used his mother like that! Turned her against him and she did not even know!

His hands were clutching the amulet. He wanted to kill this man! Never before had he actually wanted to kill someone. It made him feel sick to his stomach, but he was so filled with rage.

After all… that was always the trouble with betrayal… it never comes from your enemies.

Strickler slowly pulled into the outlook point and put the car in park. He did not even look back as he stepped out before he wandered over, his green eyes gliding over the town of Arcadia. Despite hearing the trollhunter exit the vehicle he did not even look back, not even as he felt the crackle of magic and could see the shimmer of blue light in the corner of his eyes.

“Give me one good reason not to separate your head for your shoulders!” the teenager snarled, for once leaving the helmet off as he stared directly at his teacher. Strickler still did not even turn to look at him.

“Oh… I would not do that… not unless you want to decapitate your mother as well,” the changeling spoke softly.

“What…?” those words ran down the boy’s spine like icy water as he watched the changeling finally turned around.

“Well… young Atlas. When you get to my age… which… I assure you I am older than I look…”

“Hard to believe that is possible,” Jim’s interrupted causing Strickler to raise his brow slightly.

“Well… your mother does not seem to mind,” he then bit back, before he could blink he had the sword of Daylight against his throat.

“Keep speaking like that and I am going to turn you into a PEZ-dispenser,” Jim snarled. Strickler raised his brow slightly.

“Inventive… I got to admit that. But your threats does not work on me. I know what you are capable off, I know what you are not capable off,” he spoke softly.

“You believe I am not able to kill you simply because you are my teacher and my mother’s friend?!” Jim demanded.

“Well… I assumed as much. But… that was not what I was banking on. I know you will not wish to hurt your mother. As I was trying to say… when you reach my age you travel a bit… pick up certain… items…” he grinned, even with the sword which had claimed the lives after so many trolls.

“Where are you going with this?” Jim’s voice held a clear warning.

“Oh well. I found an interesting… enchantment. It binds the fate of two people together. I told your mother that this is meant to help us against the troll hunter. To know if the other is in distress,” he told her.

“Another one of your lies!” Jim snarled.

“No… just another version of the truth. As it is true. If the trollhunter… or anyone else… harms me… that damage will also happen to your mother. My fate is bound to hers as she is bound to mine,” Strickler said, speaking slowly as to make every word sink in Jim’s face.

“What…?” the word fell out of the trollhunter’s mouth.

“Well… to put it in simple terms… everything you do to me… happens to her,” the changeling grinned. The trollhunter’s face fell.

“You… you did that to her?! Why?!” he growled towards her.

“Among other things… not getting my head chopped of by the sword of Daylight is a rather big reason,” Strickler stepped back, rubbing his throat where the blade had been placed. Jim gritted his teeth.

“What is your plan?” he growled softly.

“Well… a reason for us to be out here… I am suggesting an… alliance. I am sure you have figured out Bular is building the Killahead bridge, to bring Gunmar to the surface world. And I am also sure that you know that changelings work for him,” he continued speaking as he moved towards the outlook point.

“And you aren’t?” Jim huffed.

“Of course I am. It is foolish not to. We unlike your troll friends cannot hide from Bular… and some of us got into service a long time ago. Some gleefully await his return,” Strickler made a hand movement.

“So why are we having this conversation?” Jim said.

“I know that if Gunmar were to escape the Darklands, he will slaughter humans… I have seen what he is capable off and who do you think can stand up to him and his army. You? No… the ones that could left this world long ago and I promise you that was for the better. However, this is not a history lesson. I know that the moment he gets bored… or doesn’t need us anymore changelings will be slaughtered too. Changelings have lead themselves to believe that if we serve him faithfully, we will gain respect,” Strickler stopped as he let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine something so foolish? That those that calls us impure will ever accept us? No… that is an infantile dream.”

Jim swallowed as he looked towards his teacher.

“So what do you suggest?” Jim said as he glared over at him.

“We wait… figure out a way to strike and end Bular. If he dies… then I doubt anyone will be able to bring Gunmar to the surface,” Strickler continued.

“Oh, kill Bular… nothing more, oh why did I not think of that!” Jim hit his head with a laugh before he glared at Strickler.

“I did not say it would be easy young Atlas. If it was do you not think I would be able to do it myself?” Strickler grumbled at the teen’s antics.

“Why are you not going to turn me into Bular the moment I decide to trust you?” Jim asked.

“Never trust a changeling, young Atlas. Do not trust anyone. Trust is a very expensive thing, and it is something that we cannot afford. I know you do not believe, yet the truth is that you are one of us… if only partially, and that is a lesson you have to learn. Those you consider your friends will turn on you when they learn the truth,” Strickler’s green eyes turned towards the city again.

“They won’t,” Jim’s voice was firm.

“Are you certain?”

Strickler’s voice made the teenager stare up at him as their eyes met.

“It does not matter. Even if you tell the truth, which I do not believe, this is just some plot on your part! To trick me, or make me doubt, I don’t know! Anyways, it is not like I chose to have a changeling father if that was indeed what he was. If I am half changeling it was nothing I could control!” Jim insisted. Strickler simply let out a chuckle as he looked down.

“No changeling chose to be a changeling, Jim,” He then said. Jim swallowed. He remembered what Blinky had told him about how the changelings came to be. Troll children… stolen from their parents by Gunmar and then twisted by dark magic so they could take their human form through a familiar.

He looked at Strickler again and there was no words spoken between them for a long while as both of them looked over the town.

Strickler then turned and walked towards his car.

“Strickler…” Jim began.

“Do not worry young Atlas… I won’t tell anyone about your… family relation,” he turned towards him again.

Jim huffed himself up, clutching his hands.

“I am not a half changeling!” he gritted his teeth.

“If you insist…” Strickler shrugged as he sat himself in. “See you at school young Atlas.”

This was his parting words as he drove away. It was only once the car was out of sight that Jim remembered that it was Strickler who had driven him up there and he did not have his bike. It was also a very long way back to his house.

Jim stood there absolutely fuming. He had his phone… with Strickler’s number, but there was no way that he was going to call to ask about a ride back. His pride would not allow it.

“Asshole!” he grumbled as he crossed his arms walking down the path, swearing that he could hear his teacher’s mocking laugh in the distance.

It was nearing midnight when the teenager finally got back to his house. Slowly he snuck himself inside and went to his room, closing the door.

Jim felt as if he got no sleep that night, simply laying on his bed even watching how the light in the window started to flow in, signaling a new day. Jim sat himself up, running his hand through his hair, rubbing his hair.

Slowly he reached out and grabbed the phone, calling his best friend. It took a couple of rings before he heard that the call was picked up.

“… ello… uh… what time is it…? Ugh… Jimbo… it is six AM… on a Sunday… isn’t that… illegal… is anyone even awake at six AM on a Sunday?” Jim heard Toby mutter in the phone.

“I am sorry… just… couldn’t sleep,” Jim said in a low tone. Over the phone he hear his friend sit up listening closely.

“Did something happen?” Toby’s voice was far more serious than it usual was.

“Found out some things last night. You were right. Strickler is a changeling,” he then told him.

“WHAT?! I knew it! What happened? Did you kill our history teacher?” Toby spoke quickly.

“I wanted to. But he has a spell on my mom… I cannot hurt him without hurting her. He could have lied but… the way he said it…”

“Shit… what are you going to do? Are you going to tell Dr. L?”

Jim ran his hand through his black hair and he sighed softly.

“She knows. Apparently she knew Strickler was a changeling before anyone else. He… accidently exposed his troll form to her in college apparently,” Jim explained. Toby remained silent for quite some time.

“That must have been rather awkward… wait… so she chose to date him even knowing that he is a changeling?”

“They are not dating!” Jim insisted.

“Alright, alright! Why did she invite a guy over she knew she was a changeling?” Toby wondered.

“She likes him and he… he has told her stories… not just lies… just he had not told her it right! He has convinced her that the Trollhunter is a murderer out to kill trolls and changelings, which… how can I convince her that he is evil changeling when she believes every word he tells her? Believing he is a good friend who the trollhunter is out to kill this friend?” Jim clenched his hand.

“Uh… yes… that is difficult…” Toby had to agree.

“I just… need to think. Not to mention, Strickler offered a sort of… alliance? I think… I am still not sure what he meant,” Jim fell back on his bed.

“Well he is a changeling, so it is not like we can trust him,” Toby said firmly.

“I know… Toby…” Jim paused slightly.

“Yes?”

Jim remained silent for a long while.

“Strickler seems to think I am…” Jim could hardly bring himself to say it.

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” Toby’s tone was serious in a way that Jim wasn’t used to hearing it.

“Nothing… he just said some things and… I guess he got to me,” Jim found he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. Not yet.

Toby remained silent for a bit longer.

“Hey, how about I come over, you make us breakfast, then we go out, find a place that sells birdseeds and pour it all over Strickler’s car so when he is about to drive it, it is covered in bird shit!”

Jim let out a loud laugh at this. His friend really knew how to make him feel better.

“Brilliant Tobes! See you soon.”

“Later Jimbo!”

#changeling troubles #stricklake fic #walter strickler #jim lake jr #changeling!Jim #toby domzalski #best friend ever

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timebuzzer · 3 years

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Ever After Chapter 14.7

THE WEDDING

Finally, Mr. Park welcomed the bride as everybody stood up in anticipation. When the door opened, Sage was on the verge of tears when he saw the most beautiful bride before his eyes, his bride, Alex in a beautiful gown.

Fresh tulips were beautifully decorated all over the place as IU sang “I GIVE YOU MY HEART” as Alex walked down the aisle.

Alex personally invited IU sunbaenim to her wedding. She wanted her to serenade their wedding as she walks down the aisle. Song Hana came together with her.

While Alex was finally walking down the aisle looking like an ethereal goddess who descended from the heavens, Sage recalled everything he has gone through in the past. From the time he was jealous and broken because of Liam, to his lonely years in the US, to his confession as a pizza delivery man, to the small room where they held their registration and now this. He was now on the verge of tears as he closed his eyes to stop them from pouring. He firmly pressed his fingers on his eyes to stop himself from crying any further.

He could hear his loud heartbeat as she walked slowly towards him. He thought he had seen his Alex at her prettiest, no, she was always the most beautiful in his eyes but right then, Sage just couldn't find the right words to describe her. All he knew was that at that moment, Alex was taking his breath away.

Alex on the other hand was never better. She recalled how long Sage has waited for her. She felt disappointed that it took her too late to realize that the man of her dreams was just there with her from the beginning. She recalled how she used to follow him when they were still kids. How he always pampered her in the best possible ways that made her not want to have any boyfriend at that time because having Sage was enough.

And now, as she was closer to him, seeing his handsome face in front of him, Alex started to become teary-eyed as she looked upwards to stop herself from crying because she doesn’t want to ruin her make up. She was shivering in anticipation. She couldn’t control her heartbeat. It seemed like it wanted to come out due to pure bliss.

Finally, after today, they would become a married couple to the public. They no longer need to hide from anyone. This in itself made it truly liberating.

Sage finally took a bow to her parents and took her by the hand and Alex did the same to his parents as well. The latter could see his hands shiver slightly and when their hands finally intertwined the shivering stopped and all she could feel were strong, comforting, and secured hands that won’t let her go. She tightened her grip to match his as she looked at the man in front of him with semi red-eyes.

“For all four seasons, and twelve months,

with you every day, till we run out of breath,

we shall be in love and stay together... “ IU’s voice echoed in the room.

As the bride finally was with the groom, all the people inside were teary-eyed because they all witnessed the struggles of the two in their relationship especially Aira who was already crying big time while fanning her self making sure her make up is intact. She was with Alex in all the stages of her relationship. She was finally happy that her best friend no longer needs to hide from anyone. She looked like a mother who finally turned over his daughter to the man she wanted her to marry. Hans was rubbing her back gently to pacify her.

“Babe, relax, your reaction is more dramatic than auntie and uncle. They might think you are Alex’s real mother and not them.” Hans tried to joke to pacify Aira’s emotions. As a result, Aira pinched him on the waist and finally leaned on his shoulder and wiped her tears away.

When the couple reached the platform, Mr. Park officially started the ceremony after everybody was seated.

"Good evening everyone. I am Walter Park, Dean of the College of Fine Arts, professor of this couple way back in college. We are gathered here today to witness the union of two people whom I have known personally before they became huge celebrities.

When Alex became a freshman, I noticed the change in Sage. The aloof Vice President of the student council that time suddenly became sensitive to a junior’s needs. Sage was a campus heartthrob in the university back then but he talks to no one else unless it’s school related, if I remember correctly only Hans could talk to him casually. Other than him and to his professors, he was silent. I even received a lot of applications from the student council because of him. Because he only talks to his council members, but still school related.”

Everybody chuckled after hearing these. Those college friends knew these full well because they were mostly Alex’s friends and only a few council members of Sage and Hans were invited to this wedding. Then Mr. Park continued.

“After seeing his ‘extra’ efforts I thought he finally had a girlfriend. But when I asked him, he would always say that they were just friends. However, his action says otherwise.The president of the student council who would excuse himself to the toilet and would return 20 mins later. I acted as if I didnt know that he usually goes to the toilet in "another building" which I bet would be the auditorium."

Alex laughed at Mr. Park's story while Sage looked down shyly.

"After hearing my aloof and introvert student delivering his graduation speech commending two important women in his life. I thought, finally, he had confessed. But life was indeed full of surprises. When he asked my thoughts about entering the showbiz industry, I realized still no progress? I thought after hearing his speech, Alex would realize her worth in his life? They then became Sage and Elle, who seemingly drifted apart. I was curious but wasn't brave enough to ask as respect to both of them. I'm merely a spectator too. I thought, maybe they really will be just friends in this lifetime.

"But life made another turn, TBn production company contacted me if our college is open to be a shooting location of their drama. And I bet I'm not the only one who hoped that the right time would finally come. And now, here we are. They took a long road, a long journey before they have reached where we are now. And I know, that journey, those lessons and realizations along the way, prepared the two of you for a longer journey of a lifetime." He paused for a while and look at the couple, nodding in front of him.

"My wife and I are already married for 20 years, we still have a long way to go. It was far from a perfect marriage, but I know it is a happy marriage. Two things that I could impart from that are, one, always respect one another, as husband and wife, and as a person, whom their parents' loved dearly. When you respect your partner, you will not hurt him or her, you will take care of each other, you will treat each other right, you will not take one another for granted. It entails compromise and loyalty. More so, you will also put high regards to this day. The day you vowed for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part.

And the second thing is, today is not only for the couple but it also requires participation of the people here. We are here not only to witness their union, to celebrate, to eat sumptuous meals, to take pictures for instagram. We have a greater role, responsibility, than that and that is to remind them when they forget their promise, a guiding light to the right direction before and when things get tough, when these two get derailed from the track. We serve an important role in this marriage too, the sound of reason when they can't find one." He scanned around the hall to look at everyone present.

“Sage and Alex, married life is a lifetime commitment and always a work in progress. Being an ordinary couple is already tough but being a celebrity couple under the scrutiny of the public at all times makes it even tougher. But I know you will thrive because you’ve been best friends even before you became a couple. I presume you’ve known each other well enough to build a solid trust that would not be easy to topple down even under public pressure and that in itself is something that doesn’t waver over time. When difficult times occur always remember this day and the vows you made to one another before all of us.

In life, we cannot choose our families as we are born with them but we have the option to chose our lifetime partners, yet you chose one another and you have to continue choosing each other anytime, all the time.

And I would like to request everybody here present, when the time comes that one of them comes to you for any advise when they are having marital problems, please advise them not to give up on each other.

But at the end of the day, Alex and Sage everything will always be your decision. Always continue to remind yourselves that friendship is the most sturdy foundation of marriage. Before you decide to do something you’d regret later on, ask yourself, “Am I ready to lose not only my partner but also my best friend because of this?” Always bear that in mind.

This has been a very long speech already so I think I’ve said enough or Sage might not let me stay for dinner because I talk too much. I wish for the two of you to have a happy marriage. Thank you and good evening.”

The crowd then made a thunderous applause as Sage and Alex gave meaningful glances at each other, taking in all those words Mr. Park has spoken.

He gave a great speech, words of wisdom, that would benefit every husband and wife, even soon to be husbands and wives, in the hall.

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seenoevil-ff · 7 years

Text

7 ✝ A Funeral

“It is * * * Death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself.” –Sir Walter Raleigh, The History of the World (1614).

Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris

Now this bell tolling softly for another,

says to me, Thou must die. – John Donne, Meditation 17 (1624)

XAVIER

The stifled sobs of my mother rang in my head repeatedly.

She screamed and pounded her balled fists against my brother’s chest, outraged. Her arms flailing, the stench of blood permeating the air. While I was just unable to move from my position, I stared blankly at the lifeless body of the man I knew to be my father.

That he was dead. Carver Brown was deceased.

I wasn't all sure what I had just done but apparently it was enough for my mother to be as broken as she was. My eyes watered, I could feel my heart rate quickening again but this time I was in a state of panic. There were sirens surrounding us when my mother finally wandered over to my father’s body. Cheeks stained from her tears, she palmed his face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her body shaking while attempting to form a coherent sentence.

I did this.

I clenched my jaw tightly as tears fell down my cheeks, my brother silently crying out. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I stood to my feet to walk to the front doors of the headquarters. Even though it was understood that jail was never an option again, I was prepared to surrender. The past two days have been turbulent – while I had a lot to be thankful for with the birth of my son there was so much to follow afterwards. A big event followed by a series of crippling and impactful events.

“Yo..Xae what you doing man?” Maddox questioned, lifting his head. His eyes widened when he noticed exactly what I was planning to do.

“I’ve fucked up.” I mumbled while staring at the numerous police cars parking in front of the building.

“Don’t say that shit bro, you snapped…you fucking snapped.”

As hard as he tried, there was no excusing my actions. He knew it. Murder was the most serious of the crimes I’ve committed, never getting caught there was a rush but the victim was my own blood. I didn’t feel he would be served any justice unless some kind of punishment was delivered to me. I had barely any fight in me to go against the system built to kill men like me.My mother was so broken by her grief and guilt, she didn’t even realize the reality of the situation. Her husband was dead, her only child was going to be imprisoned.

“You really are unrecognizable with this weak shit at the moment.” I heard Zane comment.

“You did this….” I whispered back to him.

“It was rightfully so, you heard with your own ears yet you want to be blind to the truth. Go ahead and kneel.” His words echoed until I could no longer hear him.

The police burst through the doors with guns drawn. “NYPD! On the ground now!”

The SWAT officers stormed in to restrain me as one pinned me against the wall, giving the others a chance to handcuff me. Detectives that I recognized and knew on first name basis walked right past me to my father’s body. When Maddox protested he was threatened with jail time and a murder accomplice charge, there were no questions asked because they couldn’t wait to book me for the crime. They had a win. When we arrived at the 19th precinct, I was processed and held after my rights were read. I chose not to speak so for all they knew I was mute. Even when the detectives threw out photos of Carver’s carcass I was still unbothered or appearing that way. The entire time I was held in that small cell there was only time to think about what was said. My thoughts also drifted to Rakim along with his purpose for initiating this. There were ample of ways to kill my father but he chose this route.

Revenge was now my goal.

For now I simply utilized some of the solitude to grieve my father that had raised me. Over the years, Carver was a difficult man to live with sometimes but he did have his moments as a loving parent. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to reminisce, back to when I was only four years old.

“So you really are just going to give up like this? What the fuck did we talk about yesterday?” I heard Belial speak.

My eyebrows furrowed as I opened my eyes, “How did you get in here?” That was all I could ask, keeping as calm or normal as possible. She stood with her body leaning against the wall, arms folded with her lips pouted. A chuckle left her lips as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“So your father is dead and you decided to take the wrap for it, never thought you would kneel for Rakim…” Belial decided to sit on a bench, crossing her legs.

“I killed him…” I mumbled. “I killed him because something in me had to do it, he told me something… and I just lost it.”

“Damn right you did. I don’t fucking like the guy that much but why take liberty to stab him anyhow? He was shot, you could have done nothing. Remember you have son, nobody will be able to bail you out of bullshit constantly.”

“I really don’t need you preaching right now, Reina.” I added heavy emphasis on her former name, the name that had long since been shed from her. A scoff then a cackle left her lips, her movements became paces. When her heels stopped clicking in the small space, her head turned in my direction.

“Far from a preacher, but wasn’t it you promising or wanting to not make the same mistakes that you supposedly left in the past?” she inquired.

“I did.” I remarked.

“Then stop fucking up.” With those words she turned on her heels and was gone again, disappearing to whatever circle of Hell she had come back from.

Much time had already passed since my imprisonment. Apparently it had gone so quickly that I found myself meeting the morning sunrise. The holding area had become busy and noisy so sleep was no longer achievable. I chose to sit in my cell to await my time while thinking of my last move. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that Rakim would feel the vengeance for my father. If he didn’t know death or destruction before, he would know it now. I guess one thing his mother didn’t fucking teach him was manners—better still she hadn’t taught him the consequences of not respecting your elders. He will know my name and my wrath in every degree. That was my promise.

When the cell doors opened with a loud clank, the deputy called out my name. “Brown! You’re free to go. Someone loves you enough to pay that big ass bill on your head.”

Someone loves me enough is right.

MADDOX

In just twenty four hours, my entire family begun to fall to pieces.

Shiloh nearly lost her life giving birth to my nephew, my brother goes missing only to appear again at a meeting, our father is murdered, and now my mother is completely inconsolable. This was an eventful couple of days and now I sit outside of the precinct awaiting my brother to exit the front doors. My eyes darted on occasion while I closely observe my surroundings—at this point we had to remain alert. Rakim had gotten the upper hand just like he wanted. Lucifer’s death would weaken us or just maiming him would. Never would I have thought my own brother would finish the act but there was way more to this story.

All we needed was answers.

The first words I could hear from Xavier was him cursing out the officers as he exited.That brother of mine, my blood, you couldn’t help but love him. There was a slight tension between us because of what occurred, he felt he needed to isolate instead of closely analyzing the situation without ripping himself to pieces.

I watched him and the continuous bickering until I stepped up closer to the front entryway to grab the back of his shirt. With a gentle tugging, I pull him to my side in a headlock.

“If you didn’t already pay attention, the entire precinct and task force have a hard on for you. Quit while you’re ahead.”

“Everybody hates Xavier, everybody…the list is growing bro. I breathe and it’s an issue.” He chose to find humor in the situation but I knew him very well.

I closely studied his demeanor.

He was more quiet than normal so the remaining question was what exactly was happening inside of his head. I didn’t know what to say or do because I was grieving myself. But I didn’t blame him for what happened, because our father had already been badly wounded… there was no way of knowing if he’d make it if the stabbing didn’t occur. Always have I been the one to comfort and protect my brother — in this situation I didn’t know how.

Once we pulled up to our mother’s home, he hasn’t budged from the passenger side door. Recognizing his stubborn nature, I chuckled then stepped out to leave him to his devices. He’d eventually enter the house on his own. Scarlett immediately met me at the door with her eyes bloodshot red.

Her voice was solemn as she called for Xavier and for a brief moment I saw that connection. Mother and son were in an emotional war. She loved him, he loved her and hated himself, apart of her was uncertainty as to who he was.

“Mama... you both need to talk. You both need this...” I urged.

“Yeah… you’re absolutely right.” Her voice cracked as more tears threatened to fall.

She was indeed trying her best not to cry again. Scarlett gathered her strength and began walking toward the car. Xavier opened the passenger door to immediately pull her into an embrace, causing her to sob once more. After a brief moment the pair walked back toward the house. It was time to prepare to bury our father. It was indeed a funeral of the century..

AMANI

I had definitely lost track of whether it was day or night.

The cold beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead caused me to shake slightly. Lately I had been having a lot of those, nightmares, I couldn’t exactly remember or understand what they were about but it was something about today. Today was the day I felt my life was going to change drastically. I breathed in the smell of marijuana smoke, huffing as I curled my naked body under the covers. I was waiting to hear a voice, to hear some familiarity. If it had been Rakim — I would have rather played dead.

“You do know… your bourgeois ass can’t sit in the bed all day.” A voice I recognized stated.

I turned my head while clutching the sheet close to my body to cover my breasts and the rest of my frame.

“Who said I would sleep all day? Maybe I want to be fucking left alone?” I shot back. It was the attitude of “I’m supposed to keep watch over you.. take that up with my brother.”

It was Terrell.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. A soft smirk appeared on my face as he began to swallow hard, it was always fun to watch these niggas sweat over a woman like me. I dropped the sheet and began to run my fingers through my messy tresses.

As a captive and Rakim’s alleged guest, I may as well put on a little show. I strutted toward the bathroom with my hips swaying ever so seductively.

“So you’re going to watch me get dressed as well?” I purred.

His expression was priceless and a bit of a turn on as I twirled in the mirror. My fingers brushed against my puffy folds, sliding them against my clit.

“Uh... nah.. Ima let you handle your shit. I’ll be outside the door, we can’t be late.” Terrell’s face turned beet red as he rushed out of the room, leaving me to wash myself in peace.

My daily routine was that I would awake to someone watching me as though I were a child. So why not have a little fun in the process and taunt my “babysitters”? Rakim has his work cut out for him if he thinks I’m not going to defy him. He isn’t my father nor my man but that sense of having control apparently strokes his ego, my defiance excites him for some reason. I can only imagine that’s why he keeps me alive..

A black some what form fitting Vera Wang dress, a large black hat to sport with matching heels seemed approapriate enough for church. It had been years since I can recall setting foot in one but the process of a funeral I knew all too well. When I exited the bedroom, I saw all of the men gathered in the hallway. They were definitely good looking, fine as wine despite the attitudes they carried. Rakim flashed a bright grin, revealing his pearly whites as he wrapped his arm around my waist firmly.

“As my date, I have a proposition for you...”

“And that is?” I replied.

“To look just as beautiful as you are... you’re going to make someone a very happy man.”

The statement somewhat confused me, my brow lifted and my face twisted. There had to be a reason for this feeling I was having. We arrived at the church to see an entire line of cars. The turn out for a man named Carver Brown was indeed grand. When we stepped out of the car, it was Rakim who coached us to remain incognito. I refused to put on shades because these people didn’t even know me or anything about me. Once my eyes fell upon whom I believed was Carver’s wife, I lowered my head to walk toward the church, her cries growing louder.

The closer I stepped to the church, that feeling began growing and the visions that clouded my head wreaked havoc within me. There was a little boy, with bright eyes, a smirk, a man draped in black with skin as pale as the moon...terrifying eyes. There was this laughter and an infant that I didn’t recognized. I had ran face first into someone which caused me to stumble.

“Oh... I’m so sorry!” I spoke.

When I looked up into those eyes..I felt weak.

“I...I...uhm... excuse me.” I mumbled.

“You good.” He replied.

When the doors of the church were opened to those who remained after the family. I no longer wanted to sit with Rakim. I was much too curious. The pastor began the ceremony, the choir singing their hymns but I noticed that the man I bumped into began to fidget and shake. The outbursts of cries from his family and some close friends caused me to feel something that I was truly unable to feel since my mother had died. The shredding sadness, that same pain resurfaced—I felt grief for people I didn’t even know.

When it was time for eulogies, everyone was broken down and the funeral soon came to a benediction. It was time for them to bury... as everyone stood and it was time for the pallbearers to lift the casket, there was gunfire. I ducked and covered myself as everyone in the pews behind me scrambled. The moment my body hit the floor, my eyes made contact with an infant, with those eyes... the same eyes as the man I had bumped into prior before entering the church.

Before I could even move, I felt someone sheild me from the barrage of bullets that came flying toward me.

ZANE

Back to reality.

I didn’t even know this girl....but I wanted her. I dove head first into the gunfire just to save her which was something I never truly cared to do. I roughly shoved her into the pews with the other bystanders to fire back at Rakim and his goons. Maddox was hot on my trail as others followed my lead, little did he realized he had entered the church out manned and over powered. The disrespecting of Carver’s homegoing indeed sparked an outrage. It was my family that was in danger, my family being disrespected.

There was no other choice but to fight back.

“Yo pull back man!” Rakim barked as they began to take cover and run from the church. No one was leaving until I put a bullet in them. The last bullet to discharge had pierced whom I assumed to believe was Rakim’s shoulder.

“Ah!” The smell of his poisonous blood filled the air, I definitely got him but there was no way this bullet would kill him.

Until next time...

I finally turned to face the beautiful woman I saw behind me, but she was already gone. My eyebrows furrowed as I finally ran from the church to see if she would be spotted in the streets.

Nothing.

“Fuck....” I mumbled. Something in me said I would see her again but I was still curious...

“Who was she?” Xavier and I finally spoke aloud in complete sync.

#chris brown #chris brown fanfic #chris brown fanfiction #ASAP Rocky #high end #heartbreak on a full moon #yaris sanchez #yaris sanchez ff #asap rocky ff #asap mob #Cassie Ventura #michael b jordan #team breezy #august alsina #trey songz

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reducereuserecycleessay307 · 4 years

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samedayessay

About me

Seven Essential Tips For Writing The Perfect Essay

Seven Essential Tips For Writing The Perfect Essay Walter Reed launched the ambulatory surgical procedure to USA’s hospital, since then patient manages improved considerably and quickly with guaranteeing the sufferers’ health after discharge . Ambulatory surgery kind about ninety% of all surgical procedure carried out these days in Canada and USA . The day surgery can achieve high degree of quality, value efficient and protected which result in excessive level of patient satisfaction . The advantages from ambulatory surgical procedure system are diversified in kind, a few of these advantages related to affected person and their family and some associated to the hospitals and the healthcare system as entire. Those benefits for the affected person that they'll obtain extra attention from the healthcare staff, because the ambulatory surgical procedure designed to serve that patient . The ambulatory surgical procedure first present in 1909 by James Nicoll, a scottish surgeon, it was known as by “day case surgery”. In 1912 Ralph Walter within the USA adopted this surgical procedure sort within the USA. In addition to studying, I had found one other means at which I may study. One factor that reading didn’t give me was the instructions on the way to pronounce the phrases I learn. My teacher said that I had the quickest time in ending the program, a matter of only a 12 months and a half. Other kids that I discovered with stayed until fifth or perhaps even sixth grade to complete. All the other children there could have progressed on the same rate, however they chose one other route. Ten thousand folks attended the funeral the place a telegram from John F. Kennedy was read. “He was an excellent young man of great character who served and, my hope is, will proceed to function an inspiration to young individuals of this country.” Over forty years later he is nonetheless inspiring to people like me. Ernie helped Syracuse advance to the 1960 National Championship within the Cotton Bowl the place they played and defeated Texas in his senior year. One on offense and one on protection when he ran an 86 yard interception after coming back within the game with a hamstring damage. The injury worsened each time he was tackled or punched purposely within the leg by the opposing staff. I would mainly memorize their whole conversations, how they pronounce their words, and in what context I could use them. This also made studying much easier for me since I didn’t should spell out the phrases in my head. Rather, I might just bear in mind how it was said and read it fluently. In only a matter of weeks, I was able to communicate on a newbie/intermediate stage with my peers, and issues lastly began to look up. He encouraged Ernie to go above and beyond and work onerous at school as a result of he knew if he didn’t that Ernie would find yourself in the coal mining enterprise like him. His mother remarried in 1959 and since she was now capable of assist him, he moved in along with her and his stepfather in Elmira, New York. I graduated the ESL program in the middle of third grade. This task, however, is not a simple one to perform; human nature itself has the tendency to concentrate on self-associated issues. If we're to put others before ourselves, then we must break away from that egotistical way of thinking and consider the worth of other individuals and their lives. Furthermore, as I begin to put others before my very own interests, I feel my life has a significant purpose and course. Sadly, Ernie never got to play professional soccer as a result of he died, May, 18, 1963, of Leukemia. Ernest R. Davis was born on December, 14, 1939, in New Salem, Pennsylvania. His parents separated very shortly after his delivery, and his father was killed in a automotive accident. He grew up in poverty dwelling in a coal mining town, Uniontown, Pittsburg. He appeared as much as Jackie Robinson, being one of many first black gamers to have been on an All-American staff. He additionally seemed as much as his grandfather because of how wise he was. It could be thought of odd, however I would report one thirty-minute episode and replay it as much as five instances. That means, each time, I would perceive a little bit more of the plot and what the characters had been saying. “The most sublime act is to set one other before you.” Spoken by English poet William Blake, this quote reveals what I imagine is a very important – if not an important – factor an individual can do. Putting others first includes the laying aside of our personal pursuits and then willingly doing one thing for an additional particular person's profit.

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highgardenmango · 7 years

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“We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.”

This post contains my reasoning for Abby’s Hogwarts House, wand and patronus, as well as a few snippets about her life during her school years, and as an adult.

I love discussing this au - feel free to comment and add your own thoughts.

ABIGAIL GRIFFIN (née WALTERS):

WAND: Beech Wood, Phoenix Feather Core, supple flexibility, 10 inches.

A true match for a beech wand, when fully-grown, will be rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood.

Phoenix feather is the rarest core type. Wands made with phoenix feather cores are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer to reveal their true strength. They show the most intuitive, and are the pickiest when it comes to potential owners. Their allegiance is hard won.

HOGWARTS HOUSE SORTING: Slytherin

After she sat under The Sorting Hat for more than five minutes, and was declared a Hatstall, eleven year old Abigail Walters chose Slytherin House.

Although she shares the boldness and unwavering nerve of those sorted into Gryffindor (where both her husband, Jake, and her daughter, Clarke are placed), what Abby values most of all is the people she loves. She does have a strong moral centre, which is certainly a Gryffindor-like trait, however, what sets her apart from Jake and Clarke is: where they are, more often than not, willing to sacrifice their friends and family for the greater good, it seems that is the line Abby refuses to cross. When thrown into extreme life or death situations, Abby has been known to part with what she feels is the ‘right’ thing to do for the majority, in order to save the ones she holds closest to her heart.

She’s certainly not afraid to put herself in danger, and that’s where her Gryffindor recklessness often shines through, but ultimately, the one thing Abby values above anything else, is her people. It’s what makes her a strong ally, and an outstanding mother and friend.

Abby’s ‘why’ - her centre, what she values most - is very Slytherin. Loyalty and determination. Her ‘how’ - her action used to accomplish her intentions - is often more Gryffindor based. Although she is plenty cunning, and can adapt and appear more subtle when necessary, she often charges head first into action.

In the end, it’s her love and loyalty for her inner circle, as well as her determination and ability to adapt to situations that wins out, placing her in Slytherin House.

NOTE: You can read more about the reasoning behind this sorting, here.

PATRONUS: Fox*

The fox is a charismatic animal. They are strongly ambitious and observant of the behaviour of others, watching key points in what others do and storing them for further reference, when they may need them. They are good talkers, meaning they can convince people to do what they want. Those with a fox as their patronus tend to be adaptable to change, but it can take a lot to get them to give up their beliefs.

*it should be noted that at the age of forty-one, Abby Griffin became unable to conjure a fully formed patronus, after the death of her first husband, Jake Griffin. It took just over a year to regain her ability to do so.

ILVERMORNY HOUSE SORTING: Pukwudgie

If Abby had ever attended Ilvermorny, it’s fair to assume that she would have found her home in Pukwudgie. The house that represents the Heart, and favours Healers.

OTHER INFORMATION AND HEADCANONS THAT FIT THIS AU:

During her time at Hogwarts, Abby Griffin was appointed a Prefect, and in her seventh year became Head Girl (much to Diana Sydney’s displeasure).

Although she was never a fan of playing Quidditch, Abby loved to cheer on her boyfriend Jake (Gryffindor Keeper) and her friends Callie Cartwig (Ravenclaw Chaser) and Marcus Kane (Ravenclaw Beater) from the stands.

Abby was extremely academic, with a speciality in Potions and Transfiguration. After passing her NEWTs with flying colours, she trained to be a Healer. She left her job at St. Mungos rather abruptly, as she was recruited by the Ministry of Magic at the age of 23, to train as an Auror during the first war. This was due to her unrivalled skills in jinxes and healing magic, that were deemed essential to the fight against Rebecca Riddle and The Dark Rebellion.

During the first rise of You-Know-Who, both Jake and Abby Griffin joined the Order of the Phoenix. Other members included: Jacob Griffin Sr. (who founded the organisation in 1971), Alice and Augustus Walters (Abby’s parents), Vincent Vie, Callie Cartwig, Marcus Kane, Indra Woods, Fabian and Jacapo Sinclair, David Miller and, later, Eric Jackson.

Mere months after the prophecy, which spoke of the girl born at the end of November, who’s mother had thrice defied The Red Witch, and who would bring about her downfall, was foretold, Abby discovered she was pregnant.

Knowing that she had managed to refuse Rebecca Riddle three times, Abby feared that her unborn child was in danger. She and Jake went into hiding, and their home in Godric’s Hollow was placed under the Fidelius Charm, with Marcus Kane chosen as Secret Keeper.

Clarke Griffin was born and kept safe, and Rebecca Riddle grew impatient. A year later, in November 1981, Aurora Blake had her second child. She, like Abby, had refused You-Know-Who three times. Five months after, Aurora was killed, and Octavia Blake was saved by her mother’s love. She became The Girl Who Lived.

Abby continued to work at the Ministry, and Clarke attended Hogwarts.

In 1994, she attended the Quidditch World Cup with Marcus Kane, Clarke and some of her friends. She spent a lot of time monitoring the Tri-Wizard Tournament when Octavia Blake’s name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire.

Jake was killed after The Order arrived at the Department of Mysteries, where You-Know-Who had lured Octavia and her friends with a vision of Bellamy and Abby being tortured for information. Clarke was fifteen years old.

Abby, Marcus, Sinclair, David, Jackson and Indra fought alongside the second generation, which included Clarke Griffin, Bellamy and Octavia Blake, Raven Reyes, Jasper Jordan, Monty Green, Lexa Woods, Lincoln Woods, John Murphy, Harper McIntyre, Nathan Miller, Echo Frost, and the other members of ‘The Delinquents’, when You-Know-Who rose again.

After the second war, in May 1998, Abby Griffin was chosen as Acting Minister of Magic. She remained in the position until May 1st 1999, when Marcus Kane was officially elected. She continued to work at the Ministry as an Auror, and decided to make a home with Marcus in Vera Kane’s old family house, The Burrow; a place that had served as a safe house in both wars.

They live there together with Clarke and Octavia (Bellamy lives with his wife, Raven, in Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Timworth.)

Still, the house is never quiet, and that’s just how Abby likes it. Everyone is happy.

All was well.

#abby griffin #10daysofabbygriffin #the 100 #100hp #kabby #a bit i guess #mine #hp #au #this isnt showing up in the tags f u #long post

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remembertae · 7 years

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Law & Order “Dignity”

(Photo: NBC)

S20 E5, released Oct. 23, 2009

WRITTEN BY: Richard Sweren and Julie Martin

SYNOPSIS Dr. Walter Benning — a third trimester abortion provider — is shot dead at his church. A cop on the scene informs detectives Cyrus Lupo and Kevin Bernard that a witness saw a white man flee the building immediately after the shooting. According to Benning’s wife, an anti-abortion protester had shot her husband at his Riverdale clinic the year prior (the assailant is currently in prison). When the detectives visit the clinic, they see a large crowd of protesters from an organization called Mission for Life. But according to one of the clinic nurses, the MfL protesters are non-violent and even assisted in apprehending last year’s shooter. When the detectives notice that the clinic received several recent calls from a Pennsylvania phone number, the nurse says it was the boyfriend of an incoming patient, and that he sounded angry.

The detectives track down Jonah, former boyfriend of Blair (the young PA woman seeking a third trimester abortion). But when Jonah admits he was scared off of parenthood when Blair said the baby would have serious health problems, it becomes clear he wasn't the shooter. The detectives then question a visibly pregnant Blair, who explains her child will have fragile skin disease and require round-the-clock medical care. She mentions how excited her father was to become a grandfather, which leads the detectives to questioning her dad, Professor Morton. Initially, Morton claims he only called the clinic, but eventually admits he also visited the day before the shooting. While there, he told his daughter’s story to a protester who told him not to worry about his daughter’s unborn baby.

The detectives next visit the Mission for Life headquarters, where a staffer and MfL attorney Roger Jenkins assure them that they too want to catch the killer. The staffer then identifies a photo of the suspect as Wayne Grogan, an overzealous protester not affiliated with MfL. Through Grogan’s ex-wife, the detectives try tricking Wayne into meeting them at the hospital. Unfortunately, Grogan’s son has tipped him off and sent Jenkins as a legal representative to negotiate his dad’s surrender. Instead, the detectives go back to the son, pressure him for a tip, and eventually apprehend Grogan at his girlfriend’s cabin in the woods.

Jenkins represents Grogan at his trial and immediately bargains with district attorneys Michael Cutter and Connie Rubirosa for ten years on a manslaughter charge. The DAs refuse, which is when Jenkins says his client will claim he acted in defense of another (i.e. Blair Morton’s unborn baby). He later tells the judge that unborn baby Morton’s medical condition is serious but survivable, and that Grogan knew this before he killed Benning. Much to the DAs dismay, the judge allows this argument.

The DAs meet with their boss, Jack McCoy. McCoy tells them they need to prove Grogan wanted to kill Benning before he heard about the Mortons. Rubirosa questions nurse Jennice Morrow, who supposedly quit working at Benning’s clinic because of the protesters. But it turns out Morrow quit because she saw Benning accidentally deliver a live baby, then murder it. Rubirosa informs Cutter and McCoy and says they need to notify the defense team. But since that information isn't directly related to Benning’s murder (and could only be used by Jenkins to prejudice the jury), they tell her to keep quiet.

At the trial, witness testimony keeps working against the DA’s case; Jenkins gets Professor Morton to admit he doesn't support his daughter having an abortion, and then a gynecologist who vouches for Morton’s professionalism insults pro-lifers by referring to them as “hypocrites and fools.” The defense ratchets up their case by bringing in Lisa Barnett, a woman who gave birth to a terminally sick baby even after doctors suggested she have a third trimester abortion (and whose story apparently inspired Grogan). Her tale about the 21 hours she spent with her beloved infant daughter — whom she wanted “to die with dignity” — leaves half the jury in tears. However, when Cutter asks if she believes late-term abortion providers offer an important service, she surprises the defense by saying “yes.”

At this point, Cutter tells McCoy he wants to take the manslaughter deal, especially because he personally can't abide late term abortion. McCoy refuses. Then they learn that the defense found out about nurse Morrow (via Rubirosa, who refused to omit that information) and are bringing her in as a witness. On the stand, Morrow describes in brutal detail how Benning delivered the baby by accident, asked the mother if he should complete the procedure, then stabbed the baby’s neck when the mother said, “yes.” Though everyone in the room is horrified, Morrow also verifies that the baby would have lived for only one or two days.

Later, the DAs argue with each other about the case. Rubirosa says she used to believe Roe v. Wade was gospel but now she’s not so sure where a woman’s privacy ends and another being’s dignity begins. Cutter tells her to just do her job but she says she can’t just set her soul aside like he can.

During closing arguments, Jenkins shows the jury a photo of Daniel Morton, Blair’s newborn baby. Cutter is about to show bloodied family photos from Benning’s wallet, but cans the emotional approach and speaks philosophically about valuing life by eschewing violence. Cutter’s case works. The jury finds Grogan guilty. And though Rubirosa wants McCoy to transfer her elsewhere, he refuses. McCoy tells Rubirosa and Cutter to get over their differences.

KEEPING IT REAL QUOTIENT Before this episode came out in late 2009, series producer Dick Wolf said it would be a “balanced, thought-provoking drama about abortion.” Given that this story is clearly based on the murder of Dr. George Tiller — a third trimester abortion provider who was shot dead by an anti-choice activist at his church less than five months before this episode aired — I think it’s important to look at the creative licenses taken to create a “balanced” narrative. From my point of view (and many other abortion rights advocates) George Tiller was a hero who helped women end pregnancies that would have hurt them, or would have forced them to give birth to babies with severe, sometimes fatal abnormalities. He didn't deserve to die. But since the writers felt the need to present abortion with a “both sides are problematic” viewpoint, they thought it was necessary to make it seem like his fictional counterpart did things that justified him being shot. Thus, we are told that Dr. Benning was, in fact, a literal baby killer. I can't overstate how deeply offensive this characterization is, especially so soon after Tiller’s death. That detail about Benning stabbing a newborn in the neck was absolutely fabricated for the purpose of making the dead provider less sympathetic.

Instead of vilifying the provider, I wish this episode had spent more time talking about Blair Morton and her quest for a late term abortion because that would have been a far more compelling ethical quandary. My personal feeling about abortion is this - I will always value the life, liberty, and agency of the pregnant person over anyone else, including the fetus. If that means carrying a pregnancy to term against a physician’s advice (as Lisa Barnett chose), then I support that. By the same token I believe that if Blair wants an abortion, she should have one. But I also think it's tragic that our economic and health care systems compel a woman like Blair to seek abortion mainly because she cannot afford to raise that special needs child. But of course, this narrative barely addresses the financial issue*, except for when Prof. Morton tells the detectives (rather unconvincingly) that he’ll figure out a way to cover the baby’s medical costs. Blair is hardly a part of this story at all. Her dad and her fetus both play bigger roles here, which is fitting because this episode isn't so much about abortion as it is “how men feel about abortion”.

In the first half of the episode, Detective Bernard makes a big show of being disrespectful and snotty toward the abortion clinic nurse. When Lupo later tells him to knock off the snide remarks, Bernard says he was born two months premature because his mom tried to end her pregnancy by throwing herself down a flight of stairs. This is why he is pro-life and needs to be a dick toward the clinic nurse. Ah yes, the old “someone else’s abortion is about me” trick. Here's the deal - abortion only happens to the pregnant person and the fetus inside them. That’s it. For example, my abortion only happened to me and the fetus that was inside me. It didn’t happen to you. My abortion didn't “almost happen” to the person who gave you up for adoption, or your mom who tried to throw herself down a flight of stairs. If you are here and alive because the person who birthed you decided against abortion or the stairs didn't work, I am happy for you. But your parent’s choice had absolutely no bearing on mine, nor should it have. So don't come at me with that “What if I’d been aborted?!” argument, because it is irrelevant and I will never care.

Similarly, I don't care that Cutter is against late-term abortion outside of the courtroom. During a scene in which McCoy warns Rubirosa that you can't count on a New York jury to be pro-choice, he says, “My daughter was pro-choice until she taped a sonogram of my grandchild to be on her refrigerator. Now…” Guess what? I don't care what McCoy’s sellout daughter thinks, either. Also, becoming a mom only made me MORE vehemently pro-choice, so don't assume we all turn anti once we decide to have a baby. Rubirosa’s angst about Roe v. Wade felt pretty maudlin, especially for a show that tends to tell you very little about its professional protagonists’ personal feelings and viewpoints. It sucks that abortion is used as a catalyst for all this clunky, overwrought character development. But from the late 1990s to about this point, TV so often talked about abortion in this way. A pregnant secondary or tertiary character’s desire to terminate becomes this heart-wrenching conversation piece for a bunch of other people who aren't pregnant (see Dawson’s Creek, Felicity, House, and Everwood). We don't see that sort of storytelling as much nowadays and I am sure grateful for that. It's hard to believe that not so long ago, an episode like this was considered a quality, balanced take on reproductive choice.

GRADE D- If they’d found Grogan not guilty, it would have been an F.

* Conveniently overlooking the cost of raising a special needs child was something that bothered me about this terrible SVU abortion episode

- by Tara

#abortion #abortion episode #law & order

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joie-university-rp · 5 years

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Dear, SEBASTIAN SMYTHE,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

–

Congratulations, TAB! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION: Name/Alias; preferred pronouns: Tab, she/her Age, Timezone: (Just about) 26, GMT+8 Activity, short explanation: I work Sun, Mon, Tues, Wed so I’m only on in the evenings those days. Right now I’m off uni so in general Thurs-Sat are all good! Not sure what the workload of my next semesters units will be but I’ll still normally be on in the evenings/Saturdays regardless! Ships: Seb/male Anti-Ships: Seb/female (sorry ladies) Triggers: RFP Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link): https://66.media.tumblr.com/58f4ef1ddf75373d83b614fbb4c99ffe/tumblr_p8saes2vqL1urvepco1_1280.jpg Anything else: I don’t think so!

IC INFORMATION: Full Name: Sebastian Walter Smythe FC: Grant Gustin Age: 24 Birth date: January 14, 1995 Hometown: Washington, DC. Moved to Paris when he was 6. Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him Sexuality: Gay Major(s): Has an undergraduate degree in Political Science from Harvard but chose to undertake his graduate law degree at Joie. He is currently in 2nd year of a law degree, starting 3rd and final year in Sept. Minor(s): N/A Housing request: Off-campus (his own apartment if that’s possible, or the Sylvester apartments if own apartment isn’t possible) Extracurriculars: Captain(/president) of the lacrosse team if possible! Or VC/VP if capt is taken. Greek Life Affiliation: N/A

CHARACTER PROFILE: [At least] 3 Headcanons for your character:

1. Had a reputation in college for sleeping around (and was never ashamed of it) however, in his junior year actually got into a pretty serious relationship. It ended badly and it was part of the reason he chose to move away from Harvard and attend Joie, and is also the reason he has tried to shut himself off from the possibility of that again, resorting back to his old ways. 2. Speaks English and French fluently, lived in France for ten years as his father worked at he US Embassay in Paris. Spent most of his schooling in France, but still considers the US home, even if Paris is his second home. 3. Both parents were very busy when he was younger, and he isn’t particularly close to either of them though he still goes home over Christmas and the holidays every year, without fail. However, despite popular contrary beliefs, he did not choose law to attempt to please his parents. He had been interested in politics or law since he was younger.

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

What made you want to attend Joie University?

I was bored of the inane, standard education at mainstreams universities, and thought it best to look elsewhere for my law degree. And if I was to convince my parents that I should go somewhere other than Harvard, it would have to be a well regarded school in its own right.

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

Only three positive? Wow. Okay. How to narrow it down. I’m confident, intelligent and attractive. What more could you want? As for negative, I have no negative traits. Cocky, over confident, rude.

Which of your traits do you value most?

Confidence, obviously.

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

Everybody benefits from confidence. Despite what some may think, I’m not a total asshole. I am more than willing to share my wisdom and help others be confident too.

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

A law degree, a good time, and maybe a few friends I can depend on. You know, to bury the body. I don’t need help with the court side of things, I’ll have that covered.

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

♫ I’ve got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck ♫

#accepted

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wordcollector · 7 years

Text

April Book Review: Walt Disney: An American Original

Walt Disney: An American Original

By: Bob Thomas

Release Date: 1976

Synopsis:

Walt Disney is an American hero--the creator of Mickey Mouse, and a man who changed the face of American culture. After years of research, with the full cooperation of the Disney family and access to private papers and letters, Bob Thomas produced the definitive biography of the man behind the legend--the unschooled cartoonist from Kansas City who went bankrupt on his first movie venture but became the genius who produced unmatched works of animation. Complete with a rare collection of photographs, Bob Thomas' biography is a fascinating and inspirational work that captures the spirit of Walt Disney.

My Thoughts:

Although I’ve always considered myself a Disney fan, I’ve never really had more than a general knowledge of the man behind it all. Walt Disney: An American Original by Bob Thomas changed that.

Walter Elias Disney was a man unlike any other. His love for animation and entertainment began young, and it never faltered. Growing up, Walt didn’t always have much, but he always had a positive attitude and the determination to get things done. This book provides an excellent look at the good, the bad, and the hard times in Walt’s life, cheering his achievements and never glossing over the bumps in the road.

It begins with a look at Walt’s early life, focusing on his strong bond with his brother, Roy, and discussing his service in World War I and the struggles of establishing himself as a cartoonist. Walt would flit from job to job, always searching for new ways to advance his animation skills or for opportunities to do his own work. Although they were able to establish their own little studio, Walt and Roy were constantly in debt, often unable to pay their employees, and Walt himself even slept in the office and subsisted on cans of chili to cut costs. Walt was willing to make the sacrifices, though, as long as it meant he got to do what he loved, a theme that came up often as he worked his way to the top.

Unfortunately, Walt had as many downs as ups over his first few years as an animator. His first successful character, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, was technically owned by Universal, and Walt ended up losing the plucky little rabbit, along with many of his animators. Soon after, Ub Iwerks, one of Walt’s closest friends and his main animator, left the studio as well, leaving Walt and Roy to struggle once again to make ends meet. But Walt couldn’t be kept down for long—he knew what he wanted to do, and he did what he needed to get it. He worked harder, played smarter, and relied on Roy to help them succeed, and eventually his restless pursuit paid off in the form of everyone’s favorite mouse.

The creation of Mickey Mouse drastically changed the outlook of Walt and Roy’s little company, and although things weren’t always smooth sailing after that, they were certainly moving upwards. The success of Mickey allowed Walt to get more creative with his work. He began to experiment with sound, then color, then mixing live action with cartoons. If a technique or the equipment wasn’t available, Walt invented it, proving his creativity worked in many ways. He was also innovative in terms of education; Walt was interested to teaching new artists and giving them opportunities to work in their field when the economy likely wouldn’t have supported them elsewhere. This helped make his own studio better and also improved animation overall: as workers moved to other studios, their education in animation helped those studios produce better films, which in turn boosted the field of animation overall and helped bring in more viewers to all animated films. It was a brilliant plan that helped animation at every level, and it made Walt happy to foster new talent as best he could.

Walt certainly had an eye for talent, and although his techniques for getting that talent to show itself weren’t always the nicest, he knew what he was doing. Somehow Walt could sense what people were capable of, and he’d push his workers to achieve their best. He frequently grew disappointed in people when they delivered less than their best, and he’d send them off to do it again. Even when his workers did give their best, Walt’s response was lukewarm at best, but that was due to Walt’s general dislike of giving direct praise. He showed his approval through paycheck bonuses or by telling someone else what a great job so-and-so had done, knowing that office gossip would spread his words to the intended recipient. It may have been an odd way to do things, but it worked for Walt, and it worked for his employees, so that was that.

This book also does a fantastic job of showing Walt at work, giving us a look at his daily habits, his interactions with his workers, and even his eccentricities in dealing with bankers, the government, and other studios. The addition of meeting transcripts where Walt would present his ideas for various projects really added to the narrative, and it was fun to see just how Walt’s brain worked. The picture that develops is one of a man who knew his strengths and his weaknesses and who knew handle both. Walt had to have the final word, and he hated to be contradicted, but he knew when his ideas grew too fanciful and didn’t push something that even he realized would be impossible. He tried to know all his employees by name, and he encouraged breaks and fun as long as the work got done by the deadline.

Walt was also well aware that he was the creativity behind Disney, and switching mediums from short cartoons to longer documentaries to feature films and television shows allowed him to stretch that creativity and to tell more stories to a wider audience. These changes, though, wreaked havoc on the company checkbook, and while he was a creative genius, Walt knew he was worthless as a moneyman. Luckily he knew how to delegate financial issues, as well as many other issues that he wasn’t prepared or trained to handle. Walt gave those tasks to people who were better suited to deal with them, and this technique allowed other people, particularly Roy, to have a little control over Walt. It also kept everyone busy, it kept Walt from losing his temper, and it kept things moving forward, which was best for everyone.

This delegation wouldn’t have been possible, though, if Walt hadn’t had such wonderful people supporting him. Thomas is very thorough in showing the relationships between Walt and those closest to him. I really liked the way the push and pull relationship between Walt and Roy was portrayed; they balanced each other out, and while they had their fights, they always made up. In a time when so many sibling partnerships went down in flames, Walt and Roy knew neither of them could succeed without the other, and they worked hard to support each other and to keep each other in line. I also loved the look into Walt’s home life. Lillian seemed like she was the perfect counterpart to Walt, and I loved that she supported his work but also shared her opinion about it. She wasn’t afraid to tell Walt when he was being ridiculous, and I liked that they worked to find compromises instead of continuously fighting over things that one or the other wasn’t willing to budge on. I also appreciated their approach to parenting and how it was very different from that of other big-name Hollywood people of the time. Walt and Lilly raised their two girls themselves rather than hiring nannies and the like to do it, and that showed how much they loved their daughters and how they wanted to have strong relationships with them as they grew into wonderful women.

Ironically, Walt was quite uncomfortable with his relationship with the public. He disliked being seen as a celebrity and would occasionally lie and pretend to be someone else if he was recognized. He also didn’t care to sign autographs in public, but if someone wrote to the studio and requested his autograph that way, he was more than happy to oblige. In public, Walt reasoned, the problem was that everyone would want his autograph, and he didn’t have the time or the desire to deal with all the attention. He also refused to use the celebrity of the Disney name to get by on less-than-perfect cartoons, and he didn’t concern himself with getting special treatment at restaurants and such. Walt saw his celebrity as a rather inconvenient byproduct of his work, and he worked the way he did because he loved what he did, not because he wanted the fame. It was a very different mindset for celebrities, both then and now, and it goes to show yet again how different Walt was from the typical Hollywood star.

The last bit of the book focused on Walt’s final years. Plans for Disney World began, the studio continued to produce feature films, and Walt’s health began to decline. It was so sad to see Walt become less and less able to get around, and although he was still full of brilliant ideas, his attitude had become less jovial and more melancholic. There were a handful of times where he seemed to know that his time was short, but he kept working as long as he could and put on a brave face for his friends, family, and employees.

The scene of Walt’s death brought me to tears, and just reading of the outpouring of grief and sorrow from all across the world broke my heart. It was truly a testament to Walt’s greatness that so many were affected by his passing and also that so many others stepped up to finish his work. Roy’s bravery and dedication really stood out to me; he’d just lost his brother, his partner of almost 50 years, and he chose to forego retirement and time to grieve in order to push forward and finish Disney World, which he had officially name Walt Disney World so that everyone would know who had had the dream of making the park a reality. Walt was able to inspire such loyalty and dedication even after his death, and if that doesn’t show what kind of many he truly was, I don’t know what would.

Walter Elias Disney was a brilliant gag-man, a tireless worker, and a dedicated family man. But more than that, Walt was a visionary, and he had a way of making other people see it. He could create characters and innovations and places no one else could’ve imagined and bring them to life with nothing more than passion. That passion infected others and eventually helped bring Walt’s grand ideas to the world. Walt knew how to tweak old tales and design characters in ways that would touch the hearts of both the young and the old and make them believe in something better. There was truly a bit of magic in Walt’s work, and even more in the man himself, and combined with his spark of imagination, Walt’s big ideas have led to countless memories of joy and laughter and hope for generations of people across the world.

Walt Disney: An American Original gave me an even deeper love for all things Disney, but it also gave me a better understanding and a greater appreciation for the man who was the heart and soul behind the name. Walt Disney was truly one-of-a-kind, and his desire to bring joy to all has ensured that he will never be forgotten.

Stray Thoughts and Observations:

Knowing Mickey was essentially Walt in cartoon form makes him that much more special.

Disney’s animators invented the storyboard.

I had no idea that the army commandeered Disney Studios during World War II.

Disney’s Victory Through Air Power was a major factor in the decision to give the D-Day invasion sufficient air power.

Disneyland was designed as much for adults as for children, so don’t judge me for wanting to go there so badly!

Favorite Quotes:

“When does a person stop being a child? Can you say that a child is ever entirely eliminated from an adult? I believe that the right kind of entertainment can appeal to all persons, young or old.”

“Well, Hazel, let’s face it—love is like everything else; if you don’t have it, you can’t give it.”

“You can’t put a price tag on creativity.”

“You know better than to kill an idea without giving it a chance to live. We set our sights high. That’s why we accomplish so many things.”

“The magic of Walt Disney was larger than life, and the treasures he left will endure to entertain and enlighten worlds to come.”

But what Walt Disney seemed to know was that while there is very little grown-up in a child, there is a lot of child in every grown-up.

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gwenore · 6 years

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College Days. Chapter 5.

Chapter 5: Strickler and Jim has a talk, Strickler having started to worry about the young teenager.

Summary; Barbara often thinks back to the last day she saw her college friend Walter. About how they went to a party together… and what happened after, something she still is not sure was real. But she is not prepared when she sees him again at the parent/teacher conference all these years later.

Jim’s flinched as once again the thunder of the canons rang out from the school speakers in history class. Why on all days would Mr. Strickler chose this one to go though advancements in warfare in from the French revolution to today? It didn’t even really follow from last weeks lesson.

His head was thumping and aching like it had never done before. Fair enough his mom’s cooking tended to be bad... even awful... but how on earth did she manage to screw up jello? And to this degree?

It was sort of impressive in its own right. They had tasted perfectly fine... which was what made him continue to eat them. All the sudden he was feeling weird, light headed and... relaxed. Like... nothing really mattered.

Jim could not remember how long it had been since he had felt so relaxed. With everything that had been going on at home... with school... not to mention...

He cast a glance down at his bag where he could see a faint shimmer.

He remember wanting to feel even better he just continued eating them. All the sudden he felt sick and rushed for the toilet. Or... that was what he seemed to remember... after everything was a blur... or perhaps a dream. His mom came home and... Mr. Strickler? That was rather confusing. He had meant about asking his mom about it, but she had a very early shift at the clinic and wasn’t there when he woke up. But there was a note on the table which said that he could stay home if he wasn’t feeling well... which was rather odd...

However when the sound of a loud air horn rang out the youth’s thoughts were rather painfully disrupted.

Mr. Strickler then mercifully shut off the video and switched on the lights... which was... less merciful...

“Alright... class dismissed, and keep in mind the assignment I handed out last week is due next Wednesday. Now you cannot say that I have not given you a notice,” he said as he waved his hand, classroom filling with sounds about students packing their things and moving out from the room... Strickler already knowing that he would get several complains about him not reminding them about the assignment.

Sometimes human stupidity could really astonish the changeling. Even in all the years he had dealt with them... he thought he would no way he was able to surprise him... they somehow managed to. It was enough to give him a headache.

Slowly he turned to see Jim lagging behind, rubbing his head.

“Mr. Lake, how about you come with me to my office,” he sad as he started to wander out. Jim simply sigh but followed him down the hall to his office where he pulled out a plastic cup filling it with some water, and handed him some painkillers.

“I am impressed you would even show up to school tonight after the night you had...” he said as he offered the teenager a seat. Jim furrowed his brows in confusion, before the realization hit him.

“You were there last night!” he exclaimed.

“Ah, I wondered if you would remember, but yes indeed I was there. Me and your mother... we were catching up on the old college days, only to come back to find someone having eaten all the jello-shots,” Strickler said as he sat himself in his chair.

“Jello-shots?” the teen question.

“Jello, but with vodka instead of water. A very... deceptive concoction,” Strickler made a slight wave of his hand. “Take your medicine, young Atlas, you will feel better.”

Jim did, the water honestly doing him a world of good on its own, Strickler filling it up for him right away, encouraging him to keep drinking.

“Seems like you are a bit hung over... you really did not realize?” he had to ask.

“I just thought it was mom’s attempt to make something and it went horribly wrong somewhere,” Jim admitted, rubbing his head.

“It was jello... why would you believe you would get this sick from jello?” the changeling had to ask.

“Mr. Strickler... when you knew my mom in college... did you ever try any of her cooking?” Jim slumped back in his chair.

“Cannot say that I did, no,” Strickler furrowed his brows slightly.

“Well... if you ever did... you wouldn’t be that surprised that she could screw up jello... which she technically did by putting vodka in it...” Jim grumbled as he looked towards the clock. “Oh no... I have PE...”

“Stay here, I will inform coach Laurence about you feeling a bit under the weather,” the history teacher informed the student.

“So... now you are helping me skip class?” Jim asked with a raised brow.

“Well... I do feel at least partially responsible for your state this morning... it is the least I could do,” the teacher informed him.

“Wait... since you know about... was that the reason for that... particular lesson?” Jim asked with a slight accusation towards the older man.

“Well... I thought there needed to be some kind of consequence. Those jello-shots were made for me after all,” he chuckled softly towards him. Jim rolled his eyes, even if he was very grateful to not have to do any form of exercise. He was certain that his breakfast would make an reappearance if he had to move any faster than a brisk walk.

“I am not really certain if I should thank you or not...” he murmured slightly.

“Hm... well, I suppose that is fair,” Strickler let out a soft chuckle.

“So... how long have you known my mother?” Jim asked curiously. It was still a great surprise to him to that his teacher and his mom knew each other. He had never met someone from his mother’s past before moving to Arcadia.

“Well... we simply met in college. I however had to return to England within the first semester of us being at the same college. I left rather abruptly, not having the time to say goodbye,” Strickler explained.

“So... wasn’t phones invented when you were in college?” Jim asked, causing his teacher to raise an brow at him.

“Either you have no clue when the phone was invented or believe me to be centuries old. As your history teacher I am not what would be more offensive,” Strickler rolled his eyes... not mentioning to the boy that he was in fact hundreds of years old. “Though... I did not know her last name, so finding her phone number... which I did not have... would be near impossible. Unlike you and your peers, we did not carry means of communication everywhere we went, and even access to such information was not as easy as typing words into a search engine.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders slightly.

“So... you and my mom did not date... did you?” the mere thought seemed to weird out the teenager.

“No... we did not get that far,” Strickler muttered.

“Good...” Jim said as he let out a sigh. The fact that his mom had dated his history teacher was not something that the teenager needed in his life. Not like it was not complicated enough. The changeling let out a soft laugh, however he noted how exhausted the teenager was. Sure... most of it could be blamed on the teenager being hung over, but... there had been several days now that he had seen the young man having been distracted in class... falling asleep more than once.

While mostly it was a sign of someone staying up to late playing games or being out... Strickler had a feeling this was not the case here. He had already nicknamed the teenager young Atlas... not without reason.

It seemed like he really had the whole world on his shoulders. A burden which was more than any adult could handle, and though Strickler suspected that the teenager would show quite the bit of ire upon hearing this... Jim was still just a child.

“Is something bothering you, young Atlas?” now the teacher’s voice had become more serious, rather than the jovial one not long ago.

“No... I am fine... just a bit hung over apparently...” the teen murmured.

“It was not what I was referring too. You have seemed rather distracted... far more than usual in fact. I hope you are not taking on too much,” he spoke softly. “Taking a break is fine.”

“But what if you can’t?” Jim asked.

“Is this about your mother? I am certain that she will be able to manage herself she is a grown woman after all,” Strickler leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk. Jim shook his head.

“No... it isn’t her. She is a bit busy at the hospital, but she has been trying to cut down her hours... it can still be busy, but...” Jim hesitated.

“That is something you are used to now isn’t it?” Strickler paused as Jim nodded his head.

“So... there is something new that is weighing down on your shoulders? You know you can always speak to me,” Strickler attempted to assure the youth. Again he could see hesitation in those blue eyes. In truth Strickler had trouble imagining what it could be. Jim was a good boy... far better than most adults, and used to handle a lot of pressure. Of course everyone had a breaking point, but Jim seemed rather happy for the most part with his busy life. He wasn’t the most popular, but he had close friends and seemed to be doing alright. His grades were decent and he did not get into trouble.

But it was clear that it was something going on.

“Um... it is just... something has happened recently...” Jim started. Strickler remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I just... I cannot really tell you... it just...” Jim continued slightly. “I just feel... a bit overwhelmed lately...”

Strickler let out a sigh, before he nodded.

“Just know this young Atlas... at times... we need to be selfish. You need too look after yourself, because if you do not, you are not good to anyone,” Strickler attempted to give him some advice. “Even if others may not like it, you at times need to make the choice that is best for you.”

Jim thought for a while before he nodded, giving the older man a slight smile.

“Thank you Mr. Strickler.”

“No worries. Now just head home, I will make a note that you were sick after my class, so you do not need to worry. Go home and get some sleep,” Strickler said as he stood up from his chair. “Are you certain you can get home safe? I could drive you.”

Jim shook his head.

“I am alright... I made it to school after all, the way home should be no problem,” he assured his teacher as he stood up. Strickler nodded his head.

“As you wish young Atlas, take care of yourself now, and I will see you tomorrow,” he said as he stood up, opening the door for his student.

“Tomorrow Mr. Strickler...” Jim smiled as he walked out the door and towards home.

#college days #stricklake #walter strickler #jim lake jr #knife family #avocado dad

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elialys · 7 years

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P/O fanfic - Moon, Stars, and Celestial Bodies

This is a result of Anna and I spending wayyy too many hours of our lives talking about P/O and their sex life, especially their sex life in the aftermath of Etta’s birth. As usual, this is something I started so long ago it’s depressing, but LOOK IT’S FINISHED WOOT. So here, have over 5,000 words of mostly fluff and a bit of smut.

This is for you Anna. And also a bit for Annie because Annie loves fluids.

MOON, STARS, AND CELESTIAL BODIES

Night had fallen by the time Peter made it home, that evening. When he entered the house from the garage, all was quiet, yet anything but dark.

He walked into the kitchen, distractedly hanging his key-chain on its hook as he took in the state of the room. These thirty seconds of observation were usually enough to give him an idea of what Olivia’s day was like, as she’d left trails of each of her passages in here.

The milk pump had been left unclean and in pieces near the sink, and there was an opened box of cheerios on the counter, next to a half-empty bowl – he sincerely hoped this wasn’t the only thing she ate today. Another familiar sight was the many, many used wipes scattered over various surfaces. He wrinkled his nose when he spotted a rolled-up diaper on the ground, having missed the trashcan by a good two feet.

Peter got to work, picking up today’s debris and tidying it all up; this was part of their routine, had been for a long time, long before Olivia’s entire focus was stolen by their newborn daughter. The fact that he was neat when she really wasn’t, was one of these things that made them undeniably compatible.

He liked to iron his shirts, always making sure they were tucked in his pants, and she’d tried hard not to laugh the day she’d found out how precisely he shaved, insuring his stubble was the right length at all time. He’d tried explaining to her that when you made a shady living conning people, your appearance was seventy-five percent of the work.

In comparison, her ability to sprout messes in the most improbable places was remarkable, but it did not bother him. He might even have found that trait of hers endearing, during the honeymoon phase of their relationship – or at least in one of the many they had. While the endearment had faded, his love for her certainly had not. He liked to think that the couple of years he spent living with Walter had been the universe(s)’ way of preparing him for what he hoped would be a lifetime spent by her side. Being forced to cohabit in a cramped hotel room with his crazed father for months had rendered him immune to anything mess-related.

To her credit, Olivia had gotten better at cleaning up after herself, even though he never complained about it, the way she’d never commented on how grumpy and irritable he could be when awakened in the middle of the night, yet he’d found himself making a conscious effort not to be short with her when it happened.

The fact that she’d become so scattered again lately was excusable.

As soon as he was done tidying up the kitchen, Peter made his way upstairs, quietly. He stopped by their bedroom, first, although he didn’t enter it, peeking at the bed through the crack in the door. Unlike the kitchen, this room was dark, Olivia’s body difficult to discern, twisted as she was between the covers; he smiled a little, glad she was sleeping at all.

Before long, he was pulled away, drawn toward another door, left equally ajar. As soundlessly as possible, he sneaked inside the nursery.

This room was only lit by the trusty device projecting moving pictures upon the ceiling; moon, stars, and celestial bodies travelling high above their daughter’s head, while it gave out an endless flow of sounds, ocean waves slowly crashing upon the shore. Peter did not give many thoughts to the machine itself, simply appreciating the soft light it cast in the room, allowing him to see the fine traits of the tiny human being asleep beneath the stars.

While at first, he simply stood there, he quickly ended up leaning against the crib’s side, bent over to be a little closer, nothing short of drinking in the sight of his child.

He recognized the thick pajamas she was wearing, a white, fluffy fabric adorned with a cow pattern; like most of her clothes, it was slightly too big on her. Despite having been born a week overdue, Henrietta had been tiny – except for her cheeks. Although she had quickly regained the weight she lost in the first few days out of her mother’s womb, she was only now starting to ‘thicken up’ a little.

Peter spent an unknown amount of time watching her sleep, fighting a familiar need to pick her up because it’d been hours and he missed the feel of her in his hands; missed how perfectly she fit on his forearm when she lay on it, belly down. He missed her smell and every little sound she made, missed the sharp blue of her eyes.

He knew better than to disturb her sleep, though, aware that if he did, the sounds she would make wouldn’t be the cute kind he loved. And so he let her be, eventually leaving the room as quietly as he entered it.

Back in the hallway, he briefly thought about going back downstairs and cooking up some dinner for him and Olivia, because he knew the cereals he’d found were the only she’d eaten. He went to their bedroom instead, drawn to their bed and the body half-concealed in it as much as he’d been to Henrietta.

While he hadn’t had the opportunity to hold his daughter in hours, he felt like it’d been days since he’d spent time alone with Olivia.

When he climbed into bed, she startled awake before he even got a chance to settle down. Despite her exhaustion, she remained on edge at all time, responsive to the slightest of noises, and her blurry gaze found him with a hint of alarm.

“Sorry,” he whispered, moving closer to her. “Go back to sleep.”

But Olivia shook her head groggily, before curling up into herself, almost disappearing completely beneath the covers. When she uncurled and reemerged, she looked back at him with heavy eyelids.

“Hey...” she breathed out, a lazy hand sneaking out from under the comforter to grab his near her pillow, and he squeezed her fingers.

“Hey yourself,” he smiled, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “How long has she been asleep?”

She pushed herself up to glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “About an hour,” she guessed, before falling back upon the bed. Doing so, a waft of air rose from her.

While Peter had always been fond of her scent, the smell that attacked his nostrils was anything but pleasant. Before he could stop himself, his nose wrinkled up a little, an instinctive grimace most people would make upon smelling the sour hints of vomit.

He caught himself at once and forced his face to relax, but it was too late. Olivia had seen his reaction, and judging by the changes in her body language, she was not pleased.

First she frowned at him in disapproval, before averting her eyes, pinching her lips together. Next thing he knew, she was sitting up, putting some distance between them, and her quickening breathing sounded almost obnoxious in the otherwise silent room. Peter sat up as well, cursing at himself.

“She regurgitated all over me, last time I fed her. I changed, but I haven’t had a chance to shower. I was too tired.”

She said the words quietly, but her voice was tensed, as tensed as her body.

Peter knew there was nothing he could say, no appropriate answer, that whatever he chose to reply, she wouldn’t take it well. Although she hadn’t become ‘irrationally hormonal’ the way movies and books liked to depict pregnant women and new mothers, she was tired and physically uncomfortable, had been for weeks, now. He’d seen her go through an impressive array of emotions, these past six months, enough to recognize the signs...and to know he’d fucked up.

He had to say something, though, because each second of silence that went by was as good as him telling her that he was, indeed, extremely grossed out.

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly, already bracing himself.

Sure enough, Olivia took a sharp intake of breath, throwing him a nasty look, before averting her eyes again, as if he’d just told her her excuse wasn’t good enough. She was off the bed, then, agitated and incensed.

Within seconds, she was bending down and picking up discarded items from the floor, the way she often did when agitated; from what soon reached his nose, he guessed some of these were the clothes their daughter had ruined earlier, although he made sure his face wouldn’t betray him this time.

“I am trying, Peter,” she snapped at him as she threw the heap of dirty clothes in their humper, not even looking at him anymore. “I wish you could come home and not find me passed out in a pile of vomit, but I barely have time to pee.”

Peter watched as she zoomed to the bathroom’s door, a door she would have banged closed behind her, if not for fear of waking up the baby. She closed it quietly instead, making the click of the lock loud in comparison; her message was clear. While they usually gave each other privacy in there, they never locked the door either.

He could only stare at it, hearing the shower being turned on the other side of the wood, trying to make sense of what had just happened, although aware that there was no logical explanation to this. Her intense reaction came from somewhere, though, hormones or not, and Peter was perceptive enough to have an idea of what was bothering her.

They knew things would be different once Henrietta was born. They had talked about this, lengthily, the way they’d discussed dozens of topics related to parenting, and on how to keep a brand new human being alive, using the many books Peter had bought and read as survival manuals. Reality was turning out to be harder than anticipated, though, and they had anticipated this.

Put simply, having a baby put a strain on any couple, there was no way around it. He’d read that no matter how close the parents were before the birth, there always was an adjustment period, as they learned to be parents. Exhausted parents, at that.

Peter was aware of how challenging motherhood was to Olivia, on a sheer physical level, in ways she never encountered during her pregnancy. Even at forty weeks pregnant, she’d been exercising almost religiously, albeit more slowly and with some difficulty. The yoga mat she used to lay right there in front of their bed was rolled up in a corner, untouched for a while, now. He remembered watching her go through her third trimester workout routine every morning, giant belly and all, admiring her resilience while (inwardly) admonishing her inability to take it easy.

He was partly to blame for Olivia’s current distress. When she was pregnant, all of his focus had been on her, pampering her as much as she allowed herself to be pampered – which hadn’t been much, but he still devoted himself to her and her needs, having become an expert at making things easier for her, without her realizing that he was, in fact, spoiling her rotten.

Since Etta’s birth, his focus had changed, mirroring hers, split unequally as all of their efforts were directed primarily towards their daughter, and very little towards each other. And while he knew physicality was never enough to keep two people together, the lack of it, combined with stress and exhaustion, could shake the strongest foundations.

This wouldn’t do.

Filled with renewed enthusiasm, Peter left the bed, glancing at the clock again, trying to determine how long they had before Etta needed to be fed. She’d been sleeping longer around this time of day, this week; if she stuck to this pattern, they should have a couple of hours to themselves.

He briefly thought about calling Astrid to ask her to baby-sit for a few hours, but he quickly discarded the idea. He had no doubt the young woman would jump on the opportunity to come coo over Etta, but he could picture Olivia’s mortified face when he announced their friend was in their living-room with the baby monitor, so that they could stay in their bedroom to try and rekindle the flame.

No, this was a time for improvisation – one of his best skills.

Just as swiftly as he’d cleaned the kitchen, Peter tidied up their room, the sound of the still-running water letting him know Olivia had allowed herself an extended shower. While it worked to his advantage, it also told him just how annoyed at him she was. It did not discourage him, confident that he could change her mood, as long as their little princess cooperated, two doors down, and gave him a chance to try.

First, he extracted the candles that had been stuffed in his nightstand drawer for a few months, since that one (and only) time he’d tried being ‘romantic’ in here. Olivia had been six months pregnant, then, and prone to bouts of hilarity. Having found his intentions more amusing than sweet, their love making that night had been filled with the sound of her snorts and laughter, which she’d let out every time she looked at one of the lit candles. Eventually, he was laughing with her, for no reason at all, except the beautiful silliness of it all.

The memory of her laughter was what made him light up the candles again tonight, not to facilitate romance, but intimacy. Once done, he changed into his sweat pants and night shirt, before going back down to the kitchen, where he checked the fridge and freezer, making sure they had plenty of reserve. He grabbed a glass, then, opening a bottle that hadn’t been touched since they’d moved here.

He tiptoed back upstairs, re-entering their room as Olivia was exiting the bathroom, wearing nothing but her black robe. As he closed the door, she kept on rubbing her hair with a towel, a bit aggressively, her eyes narrowing as she realized the room was only lit by candlelight, anything but amused. When her eyes moved to look at him, her gaze quickly deviated to stare at the glass he was holding.

Her shoulders dropped, as did her hand from her hair. “Really?” she asked, her voice low. “That’s your solution? Putting up some candles, while you torture me with something I can’t have?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”

She frowned, pursing her lips with a sharp tilt of her head. “You know I can’t drink.”

“No,” he replied in an even tone. “What I know is that you can drink, as long as you don’t nurse for a few hours afterwards, long enough for the alcohol to metabolize and leave your system. We’ve got plenty of milk stored, we can give her a bottle next time she needs to feed.”

She’d walked to her bedside table while he talked, grabbing the brush she kept on there. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Even though she didn’t look at him, and despite the small edge in her voice, the note of sarcasm in her tone made it impossible for him not to smile. When she turned to face him, brush in her hair, he made a face, pouting a little.

“There’s hardly a mouthful in there,” he said, holding out the glass for her to see just how little whiskey he’d put in it.

Olivia did not smile, but she eyed the glass with definite intensity. He knew she missed it, probably as much as she missed coffee, although he never once heard her complain about either.

“I checked it out,” he said. “I promise it will be harmless to her by the time you feed her again in six hours or so. I’ll even take both feedings tonight if it makes you feel better.”

She’d stopped brushing, now nibbling at the inside of her lip, a clear sign that she was starting to cave, staring at the glass as if it was some kind of forbidden fruit.

“Liv,” he called her out softly, and she raised her eyes to meet his. “You’re doing such a good job with her, every day, and every night. You’re allowed to give yourself a break.”

This had been one of their ongoing ‘arguments’ since the day they met, obviously, her inability to focus on herself and her wellbeing; he’d always been quite skilled at making her slow down and breathe, though, if only for a while.

He hadn’t lost his touch, her eyes almost too bright in the flickering candlelight, as she took a few steps closer to him, and he extended his hand.

She took the glass from him, almost cautiously, looking at the amber liquid with a mix of longing and wariness. When she met his eyes again, he heard her unspoken question.

“It’s safe, honey,” he promised with a small nod.

Olivia spent a few more seconds staring at the alcohol, before raising the glass to her lips, taking all of it in in one go. He watched as she kept it in her mouth, eyes closed, her first taste of liquor in almost a year, now. She tilted her head back, then, and he followed the rippling path the liquid traced down her throat as she swallowed. Reopening her eyes and meeting his gaze, she licked the last of it from her lips.

Something was stirring in him, and she could tell.

She pursed her lips, shaking her head a little. “I’m not sure I’m up for this, yet.”

Peter sensed both her fatigue and frustration, heard the hint of embarrassment. He answered with a smile, the soft kind he reserved for moments when he found her particularly endearing. He took that one step that had been keeping them apart, grabbing both the brush and the glass from her hands, putting them down on the dresser.

“All I had in mind was a massage,” he told her as their eyes met again. “No borrowing,” he added, which earned him his first small smile of the evening.

“Just a massage, uh?” She asked, her hands instinctively falling upon his sides as he slid an arm around her, his other hand finding its way to her face, lightly cupping her cheek.

He kissed that little line between her eyes, feeling her softening in his arms as she sighed upon the skin of his wrist, letting herself sink into him. He leaned his forehead against hers, then, closing his eyes.

“I will touch you any way you’ll let me touch you,” he said softly, and he didn’t imagine the shiver that ran through her. “Anything to help you relax.”

She let out a soft, soundless chuckle. “Nice,” she said, quietly. “And here I was, thinking you were too grossed out to even want to try anymore.”

From her tone, it seemed she was trying to be derisive about this, but she didn’t quite succeed; all he heard was her uncertainty. He pulled away slightly to meet her eyes, finding the same doubts there. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel this way,” he said, softly. “I can assure you I very much still want to touch you, all the time.”

She was blushing, now, the skin of her face warmer beneath his palm. But before long, she was averting her eyes, her traits constricting.

“What is it?” He asked.

She shook her head in his hand. “I guess the problem is me, then...again,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I thought...I figured that if I kept in shape all the way through the pregnancy, it would be easier, to get my old body back. And it’s not that I’m being vain, I’ve never cared much about the way I look, but I care about being fit, if only because I have to be, with my job. But it’s been weeks, and even though I haven’t gone back to work, yet, I don’t workout either, because I’m just too damn tired. So here I am, with floppy skin and stretch marks, feeling like a walking milk dispenser with those...things.” She tilted her chin toward her robe-covered chest, a chest that was noticeably larger than it used to be.

Peter brought his second hand to her face, “Olivia,” he said in a familiar voice, drawing her gaze back to his, and that wrinkle between her eyes relaxed ever so slightly.

“You’re a mother,” he told her with emphasis, trying to convey all of his admiration in these few words. “You literally grew a human being inside of you for nearly ten months, one precious little soul that still depends on you to survive. This is just as remarkable as any of the things you could ever do, as an agent, or because of the Cortexiphan. So...” he continued, briefly tightening his hold on her to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, before pulling back, “...I hope you’ll understand if I feel nothing but fascination and reverence toward your body.”

He almost felt the air being sucked from that small space between their lips. He definitely felt her pushing in and up, then, seeking him back. As he slowly ran his tongue over her lower lip, she began to twist his shirt in her fists against his sides, shivering deliciously. She pulled him closer, pressing his hips to hers as she opened up to him, letting him taste her like he hadn’t in weeks.

The remaining traces of whiskey took him a few months back, if not a few timelines. Above all else, the feel of her, so close and responsive, was as much a homecoming as it ever was.

When they eventually broke apart, long enough to breathe, the air came in and out of their lungs in hot and short bursts, his fingers entangled in her wet hair, as hers were in his shirt, the fabric now pulled tight over his lower back.

There was no hiding the way his body had responded to hers. Judging by how she let go of his shirt to grab his sweat pants, pulling them down in one swift movement, she was far from bothered by it. He frowned, excessively on purpose, even as he let go of her hair to focus on the loose knot keeping her robe closed.

“I feel like I should make it clear I meant it, when I said all I had in mind was a massage,” he pointed out, leaning down to kiss her more innocently.

But she bit down on his lip in response, hard, wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him back down as her other hand went to grab his throbbing length. Her fingers squeezed and moved in a way she knew would drive him mad, before using her thumb to tease his head, until he was moaning against her mouth.

“You also said you would touch me any way I wanted, so...” Her voice was low, almost raspy, a tone she’d often used in this very room. Olivia’s insecurities might be real and too numerous, when her mind was set on something, she became unabashed. He therefore was not in the least surprised when she let go of him to grab one of his hands, pulling it inside her open robe and down between her legs, “...touch me.”

Peter did not need to be told twice, finding her warm, always so warm; she might know how to tease him, he was just as knowledgeable. He pulled her closer, tighter, covering her tensed neck with open-mouthed kisses. Soon, she was gasping near his ear as he touched her indeed, first under her guidance, then of his own volition, both her hands gripping him for balance.

They managed to let go of each other long enough to discard of what was left of their clothes, his shirt joining his pants, followed by her robe. His hands were back on her as soon as humanly possible, pinning her back to him to kiss her languidly, already intoxicated by the feel of her skin upon his own.

Despite her uncertainties, the weeks that had passed, and the risk of being interrupted at any moment, this was familiar, the feel of her as much as his aching need for her, throbbing both within him and against her.

“How do you want to do this?” He managed to ask the next time they came up for air.

She began pushing him toward the bed, and he followed, walking backward. “On your back,” she said simply.

As he sat down upon the bed, he barely had time to move back that she was straddling him, half his legs still off the mattress, pushing on his chest until he was lying upon the crumpled comforter, and she hovered over him.

He loved that he’d reassured her enough for her to want to be on top, a position that did give her more control, but undeniably gave him a broader view as well. Not that he could see much at the moment, as she’d followed him down, resting upon his chest, swaying as she squeezed him between her thighs, kissing him with a need that equaled his own.

He felt her breasts pressing upon his chest with each of her moves, felt the light graze of her nipples, and before long, she was letting go of his mouth, hissing in discomfort, pushing herself off him to create some distance. To distract her from her soreness and oversensitivity, he brought his hand between them, swiftly making his way back to her warmth, finding her even slicker than before. He did not hesitate, curling two fingers inside of her, using the rest of his hand to apply a calculated pressure upon the nub that hid there.

His distraction had the desired effect; she grabbed his upper arms, arching upon him, head thrown back. She was gasping his name, then, a call he recognized all too well. His hand left her warmth to grab both her hips, and she guided him to her.

She slowly lowered herself upon him, as if afraid something would be fundamentally different. When it all felt wonderfully familiar instead, her entire body began to relax around him. A blissful little smile stretched her lips as she settled more comfortably upon him, both her forearms resting on his chest, bringing her face close to his to breathe against his lips.

He let her take her time, the feel of her enough to drown him in a kind of bliss that had to have killed more than one man on this Earth. When she began to move, slowly but decidedly, he allowed his hands to leave her waist. He made sure to stay away from her chest, roaming the expanse of her back instead, before moving down to squeeze her buttocks, aiding the rocking movements of her hips and increasing the pressure, swallowing her next moan.

It had been a while, but they’d done this often enough for him to know the familiar patterns of their love making. Although she seemed to enjoy the position they were in, it did not quite give them the closeness they were accustomed to, the kind she always sought as much as he did, the more carried away they got by the feel of the other. While he was already far gone, and would have kept on prioritizing her comfort over his need to have her close, he knew she might not be as kind to her own body.

Sure enough, she was moving, then, pushing herself off him until she was sitting up, breathing out a “Screw this,” as she grabbed his arms and pulled, another call he recognized.

Unable to refuse her anything, he slid ever closer to the edge of the mattress and sat up. As soon as he was within her reach, she wrapped herself around him, as he did around her; in such position, and with this amount of contact, the press of her breasts upon his chest was unavoidable.

She seemed to mean it when she’d decided to ‘screw this’, more interested in keeping him as close to her as possible, twisting his hair in her hand as he tried to breathe into the crook of her neck, each sway and rolls of her hips sending wave after wave of heat throughout his entire body.

I love you... he found himself whispering against her skin, again and again, because he knew how much she loved to hear it, and he could never say it often enough, I love you I love I love you...

She came more quickly than any of them expected her to, the rasp of his name and the feel of her rushing heat quite enough to make him follow suit.

Once again, they had done this often enough for him to be intimately familiar with the various physical manifestation of the act itself, aware that it always resulted in various...messes, including sweaty and sticky skins, among other things.

When his brain managed to reconnect more properly with the rest of his body, however, he quickly became aware of a new sensation.

Definitely...warm, wet, and sticky.

She had felt it too, and she was the first to pull away, enough to create some distance and allow them both a view of each other’s chest. Together, they discovered a specific side effect of love making while one of them had breasts full of milk, the evidence of it glaring and glistening upon both their skin.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Olivia said rather loudly, in a tone so stern and fed up that Peter had to bite the inside of his cheek hard not to laugh, not even smile, his endorphin-heavy brain creating a fleeting image of her drawing out her gun and threatening her own breasts for being such a nuisance.

He did good, though, managing to remain perfectly composed and unsmiling, merely using his grip on her hair to pull her slightly closer, this beautiful woman, the mother of his child, pressing a sweet kiss to her flushed cheek.

Still holding on to her, he tilted them sideways, reaching out to grab the pack of wipes he kept on his nightstand. He took a couple of them out, handing one out to her without a word. Carefully, he started to clean off the milky trails from her chest, while she did the same on him, aware that her annoyance was already turning into mortification, feeling it in the way she was tensing up, seeing it in her changing expression.

This wouldn’t do.

He could have told her all about the physiological mechanisms behind this, about how pleasure caused her brain to produce oxytocin, which in turn led to milk release.

He didn’t.

“Good thing I don’t have a breastfeeding fetish,” he said instead, casually. “Can you imagine, having to nurse the two of us? I don’t think your nipples could take it.”

There was pause, one suspended instant when Olivia met his eyes again and stared back at him, and Peter knew that the probability of him getting slapped within the next five seconds was quite high.

Her whole body relaxed instead, her face soon breaking into a smile he hadn’t seen in weeks, the kind that brightened her everything.

She was sinking back into his embrace, then, and her soft, tired laughter was a beautiful music to his ears, her kiss a gentle caress against his neck, as were the three words she whispered upon his skin.

PS (included in the bloopers): “Peter, I’m aiming!”

#fringefox #fringe #Peter x Olivia #polivia #fic of mine

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