#asking Crimpy

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

hi! i recently started watching cm from the beginning a few weeks ago (on s7 right now) but now im utterly obsessed, especially with spencer reid. do u have any recs of other cm accounts follow? :D the fandom seems neat

Hello! I'm so sorry I'm literally responding three months after you sent this; life got a little wild for me.

I imagine you've found some blogs already that you like, but just in case though I'd recommend: @unmitigatedsuperiority, @pretty-boys-book-club, @candlesandsoftrain, @mikkelsenlover While going through the list of people I follow and my follows, I realised a lot of them are inactive now (oof). So if you've found some in the last three months that you'd like to recommend? Please do! I wrote the above thinking you wanted Reid specific blogs?? Idk but if we're looking at Cm in general as well then also @t4tmoreid and @temilyrights and @penelopegarciasoctopusmug and @spencer-reids-adventures and @gay-prentiss.

There's for sure more that I've missed but I really haven't been here properly in a while

[other-peoples-coats]

Niche auscore snacks update:

chilli cheese shapes: bad. yuckydisgusting tier shape flavour. -100000/10. my mouth is the scene of a crime (derogatory).

fried chicken shapes: eh they're fine. like yknow? they're Fine. they taste like. spicy onion with left meat. it's Whatever.

(I pine every day for the lamb and rosemary shapes tho.)

[vexikk13]

{ the tenebrific nature we often find ourselves in, is most likely coming a long way.

it starts with a pair of eyes in which u don't notice the epitasis.

they feel like everything u ever looked for gathered in a perceivable and real human, you would marry that soul the next second cause it seems like there can't be any bad habit or quality that could stand in your way.

you proceed to pour your persona into their bottomless social entertainment jar while yours barely gets smeared by "my favourite colour is blue" and "I prefer one's heart over looks"

u keep pouring and pouring letting the impluvious crimpy phenomena to overflow with passion, cause u spent so much time working on yourself, u have so much to offer and you know u should, cause there is love in this universe, so much that it can easily fill a bottomless jar, and you have it all, you are full of it.

day one: u pour, they validate it, they are hungry for everything you have to offer, they said they never met someone like you, they want you whole, they are thriving with delight, you still pouring, they pour a bit when u asked them yourself about their hobbies. "i like soccer"...

day 22. u don't wanna marry them anymore, your jar is two fingers filled. their is empty, they've been pouring it all in someone else's jar. u stay silent. down. listening to the rain that has been pouring outside for an hour now.

"the rain has been pouring for millennia too, so why can't i do the same"

a stranger with no epitasis in their eyes asked me today why I am this dry... and i suddenly started pouring.

m.13

[echolaliaplayer]

The Australian offers the world the 'Chicken Crimpy' and asks to be taken seriously

[starsailorstories]

*slithers into your inbox* ⭐️ for the ask meme!

@theobhan Ok it's a longie but Nen is kneeling at the low table squeezed between the boundaries of the wood stove and two beds, worrying the overbent starter of a self-heating vapor-tea can with a pocket knife, spark after spark. She’s undone her braids for visiting, and her crimpy hair arcs down unnaturally, like a headdress molded in lilac-blond and silver. When she gets frustrated with the tea-can, which is quickly, she ties the strands up one handed with the rubber band that held the hose on.

Overhead their one electric lamp flickers as wildly as the lantern flames outside. “This is doing no good,” she says, putting the knife down, and then, as if it were her plan B for getting the tea open, “let’s say the verse for passage.”

Wordlessly the three of them--Bash, Ilde, and Li (Nen’s daughter too, from the genvia after Bash’s)--take each one side of the table and join hands at its corners. 

“Spirits of the mercies of the storm, bind these timbers.

Spirits of the mercies of the storm, bind these hatches.

Spirits of the mercies of the storm, bind these walls.

Spirits of the mercies of the storm, bind these rivets.

Sterobys of the storm, pass the heads of all my sisters.

Sterobys of the storm, pass the houses of my sisters.

Sterobys of the storm, pass the sails of my sisters at sea.

Do what must be done and do no more.”

The steady words of the old chant, written back when the harvesters were held back from the pull of the great blue wall by stabilizer rockets fired in perfect time, keep time now with the creaking of the house’s frame. The lamp continues to strobe. For a moment, without discussing it, all of them listen, as if waiting for the planet to give them a grudging reassurance.

“So!” Nen pipes up then, her voice slightly raised in an attempt to ignore the wind. “You girls are down another school term, huh. Last one for you, Bash!”

“Yeah, guess so,” Bash replies. She takes the tea-can from beside Nen’s hand and smacks the starter tab open on the edge of the table before handing it back, dented but functional.

“Much obliged, dear,” Nen murmurs with a smirk as she takes it, then continues: “How’s the works treating you, now it’s your first full-time season? Mag-the-Elbow had good things to say.” (The night shift supervisor on their branch of the pipeworks got her moniker for her involvement in some drawn out, evidently complex incident tens of quinturns ago, in which she’d been holding something together on a turn. Every Mag in the neighborhood has to be effectively surnamed, as there are fifty of them in Bash’s colony alone.)

“It’s fine. I mean, I sort of knew what it would be like, from going out there with sennami when I was younger.” She tilts her head at Ilde. “Gets a little scary sometimes on that lower walkway in the old part. I swear the winds are stronger now than when I was a kid.”

“We’ve had a few rough years. You’ve got to keep your head out there. She’ll do whatever she wants to do, ‘specially to a girl that don’t show the proper respect.”

“There’s some research out of Ovaiakon saying it’s rougher on the opposite of those big harvesters around the Atya side. That’d be right around here I think, from the surface map in their little brochure.”

Nen smiles again and huffs, a little storm through her own pale teeth. “And what shiny new ship in Fila Fenaeta does this Ovaiakon prophet’s benefactress own?”

“That’s a point, I guess. But doesn’t it feel--” She pauses for a bone-rattling windblast that would make a shout inaudible. “Doesn’t it feel sometimes like everyone’s picking this place over and then pulling up anchor? Even Sia Matari left.”

“She has family in the Rings too. It’s none of our business what she does with her inheritance.”

“Sure,” Bash falters, “but if it was mine I’d do something about what was right in front of my face before I went chasing comets. Eshe up in the main office says she lost out in the deal she made, she might as well have had the walkway redone or in a while they’ll have to close it.”

“What was she meant to do, cheat them?”

“No! The company knew they got a bargain, Matari knew she’d get out of here. Only ones getting cheated is us. By the time I’m twenty there’ll hardly be anything left to operate. That’s what happened when Globa’s management moved off-world.”

“Well for arch-heaven’s sakes, isse senna, maybe you should go knock on the door and see if they’ll let you run the place.”

Bash turns her head sharply to the sound of Ilde’s voice, takes in her warning look, and can’t bear it for some reason. “If it can even be run,” she says to the tabletop, feeling other concerned stares from her family collecting on her.

“My child, this is your home.”

“Is it? I’ll never have any say in anything that goes on here, neither will either of you. The Aula could have them tear the domes down tomorrow and we’d have nothing to say. As it is they’re letting time take their toll for them. We’re no use to them, so they’re no help to us. We can’t even shoot rockets for the Avi-fora anymore,” she trails off, unsure what she’s trying to make clear.

“Bash, sit down,” her sennamia says, putting her own recently produced tea-can down with a soft but exacting clank. “I won’t have you talk of your queen and country like that under this roof. You cannot possibly know what it’s like for them, with so many people and interests to look after. Would we be better off living like the ante-dome worlds, people getting stabbed on the steps of the temples and whatnot? We’re lucky to be under the protection of a wise counsel.”

“But what if they make a mistake?”

“Well, what if? They’re mortal too. But the goddesses don’t make mistakes. If it is, it’s meant to be.”

“Do what must be done and no more,” Bash repeats furiously, letting her words be lost on purpose under the rumble of the wind.

Not to give something I really wanted to work on a worldbuilding and poetic level the political cartoon treatment, but the emotions of this scene are the compressed buildup of a lot of tornado seasons, a lot of those kitchen table conversations politicians like to talk about so much, and a lot of family arguments about climate change and capitalism I lived through as a Teen In Ohio. A lot of what I wanted to capture in this story was the feeling of youthful rebellion in a very homogeneous rural area and how it can seem futile, but at the same time it was like the more rural you went the more dangerous and life-and-death the stakes of the rebellion got. I grew up in a newly-suburban area on the edge of a rural area, so I experienced the futility more than the danger, but I drew on stories and conversations with friends from the next county and other parts of the state. Ilde's words about the state they all but deify being led by fallible mortals are almost my mother's, and I think they come from a kind place but a stubborn place, an unwillingness to take kindness past the line that's been drawn for you all your life. I've talked before I think about this story being about the seed of Bash's radicalism before it germinated and I do think that contradiction was part of my own seed. So in a way this scene is extremely personal--it deals with the pull between the fresh perspective you have as a young person and the pressure you feel from people you love who think they've seen it all (but really they've just seen various small towns in Ohio).

Other things in here:

The storm-prayer they say is an old Shalian tradition that has its origins, a hundred generations back, in Ket takeoff-chants. Most of Shali's modern day population comes from Glasmiri, and Glasmiri's first settlers were Ket speakers from Tarega who came fleeing the invasion of the Saiven Channel by Ixavol raiders. Not a lot has survived all of that, culturally, but there are echoes, such as this very repetitive and mantra-like prayer format.

I explained this a few years back I think but "tea-can" is the English translation I've settled on for a ubiquitous product in astraea civilizations, namely air/gases that can taken into a stellar fusion reaction but compressed and packaged with the aim of tasting (smelling?) good. These would not taste like anything to a human but they're meant to evoke atmospheric conditions from nature that astraeas are drawn to because they're relatively rare +in space+ and there's stuff they need to run their central nervous systems in there, although they're not always as good for a star-powered body as the real deal. They ARE however cheap and a helpful supplement when dealing with a leaky or otherwise sub-par artificial atmosphere, making them a common sight on especially older orbiting settlements.

Fuck absentee landlords, amiright?

The economic system of Basilea, while in theory a welfare state, disenfranchises the rural poor almost completely due to their lack of contact with their alleged benefactresses and inability to spare memorable gifts and tributes to reinforce the relationship over a distance, as rural owners of capital might. Despite the disconnect a lot of Shalians, in particular, cling to their Altamaian and Basilean identity because it's a source of ethno-religious pride that allows them to downplay their class circumstances. Also despite the disconnect the Aula has no problem making laws with total disregard to the Shalian culture or lifestyle

Weird xenophobic perception of the Ante-dome specifically as lawless and violent, as if the rest of the empire isn't

I wouldn't say Nen knows what's really up here but she's got a lot of common sense and isn't about pretending the powers that be are absolutely benevolent. They are what they are, in her eyes. I created her just for this story and I love her now oops

I've talked before about how the worldview of conservative cosmonism is kind of inspired by the seventeenth-century idea of the "celestial clockwork" and the "best of all possible worlds" school of religious philosophy and this scene kind of explores what that looks like for regular people outside the scholarly and priestly classes.

[violent-kurumi]

1, 4-6, 8-10, 12-14, 16, 18-25, 29, 30! (Sorry, I ask a lot! 😂)

Lmao no worries! Imma try my best to answer these

1. What song makes you feel better?

Love Live songs, mostly from Muse, like half of Aqours and some of Liella (not so much Nijigasaki)

4. What flower would you like to be given?

Portable hayfever machines? No thanks!

I'm kidding, I love flowers, they're beautiful but I'm more of a cactus/succulent kind of person!

5. Who do you feel most you around?

Hm, well I think that would have to be my brother? He doesn't judge or look at me weird if I'm screeching Love Live songs around the house, if I decide to randomly wear a costume in the day he doesn't judge like my sister. I think my brother was the first person I actually came out to as well.

That's for irl anyway, otherwise the internet I feel very much like myself lol, the server's I'm a part of, my online friends are super nice and supportive! ^-^

6. Say three nice things about yourself. (Three physical and three non physical)

Aaa it's like primary school all over again hahaha.

- It took a long time but now I like being as short as I am (so height)

- My hair, I dyed it blonde again but it used to be a browny/blonde, but as fluffy as my hair looks I kinda like it lol

- my eyes, I'm the only person with blue eyes in my family and they're kinda a grey/blue

- My ability to forget some horrible things that have happened; my memory is pretty shit so while it can work against me I like that I can forget I've seen a movie or listened to a song and so I am able to hear/watch it for the first time again

- Eventhough my memory is shit, I can pick up patterns in games pretty fast- so I like that I can play my love live game better than my family, I don't mean to brag, my family is big on video games and so it's a big deal for someone to be better then someone else at a game... (I don't know if that made any sense sorry)

- Uuuhhh, this is hard... Another non physical thing that's nice about me? I like that I'm happy person most of the time! (Does that count?)

8. Tag someone (or multiple people), that make you feel good

@nek0mancer , @the-yugioh-theorist , @hecho-a-mano , @angrykittenz62 , @horrifyn-llewellyn , @toxicsugarz

There are more but I can't remember everyone's usernames off by heart lol so if you weren't mentioned it's not because I don't love you, don't worry I love you guys

9. What calms you down?

Music! Watching my comfort shows and drawing, sometimes breathing techniques work if I'm anxious

10. What's something you're excited for?

Hopefully before Christmas my website will be up and running! I'm hoping to sell art, like the Date a Live portraits I've done, just anime/character portraits in general and those tags I've been making!

12. How are you?

Doing well, got a lot on but it's doing wonders telling myself I can take small breaks and focus on one thing at a time! ^-^

13. What's your comfort food?

Bbq shapes, or chicken crimpy shapes, mushrooms and kale and cheese and bacon rolls (I don't think it's really cheese because I don't react to them lol)

14. What's your favourite feel-good show?

I don't know too many feel-good shows? Love Live maybe? I don't know what counts as a feel-good show

16. Compliment the person who sent you this number.

Wow so you asked this for a free compliment? 🙃

You're super kind hearted!

18. Do you still love stuffed animals?

HELL YES!! I have kept majority of all my stuffed animals and a bunch live on my bed. A couple of months ago I got a Bulbasaur plushie from build a bear- which I didn't even know they did!

19. What's the most important thing in your life?

Family, possessions and memories! (I think I've already answered this question)

20. What do you want most in the world right now?

As selfish as it sounds, money, my dad is gonna kick me out soon so I'm a little scared as to where I can go with my stuff and my birds

21. If you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

Things will get hard but trust the universe to give you the right tools and believe it'll be okay.

(god I know that sounds cheesy)

22. What would you say to your future self?

Did we do it?

23. Favourite piece of clothing?

My leather jacket!! Gotta feel the power!

24. What's something you do to de-stress?

Listen to music, tv on in the background and read

25. The personal gift one.

I think I've answered this one; it's hard to answer, all gifts I get feel personal.

29. Morning, afternoon or night?

I am unfortunately a morning person but I like nighttime best. I don't sleep all that much lol

(is that what the question meant? Or did it mean what time of the day am I answering this? Technically, it's 11:40am as I answer this but I will shove this in schedule)

30. What reminds you of home (doesn't have to mean house... Just things that remind you of feeling home)

Sometimes pictures or odd song/pitches of sound make me feel frozen to the spot and this huge wave of nostalgia washes over me, it's intense and it's like I'm trying to think of home but like something is blocking me and I can't piece it all together...

Thanks so much for asking, I feel as though I've answered like every question 🤣

[katastrophe-s]

I thought you were joking when you were talking about living in tasmania but I just found out that it is a real place and not a fantasy land you made up for a laugh now I feel stupid

If it's any consolation, nine times out of ten i get an ask like this when i mention tas so dw

[newtonsheffield]

Hello! Thanks for answering my Hokey Pokey ask! I got it and it is very nice! I think I might prefer it if it were in milk chocolate rather than caramilk though. (Maybe you guys have that but it wasn’t available here) Thanks also for the crimpy shapes rec - sadly they didn’t have those! For the person who asked, I got the chocolate bar in B&M.

You can get Hokey Pokey in milk chocolate but it’s not Cadbury I don’t think. Maybe Darrellea, if you can just get Dairy milk with crunchy pieces in. Like a crunchy but in a block. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Sad about the crimpies though they are a staple.

Hokey Pokey ice cream is excellent though 👌🏻👌🏻

[officialgritty]

Shapes as Players

Before you ask, yes this was completely necessary. Thank you to @antoineroussel for being my consult on this matter.

A fun fact about Shapes is that a few years ago Arnotts changed the formula to be ‘new and improved’ but all Australians banded together in protest and forced them to bring back the original style.

Triple Cheese Toastie: Nolan Patrick

Pizza: Tyson Jost

Bbq: Jakub Voracek

Chicken Crimpy: Matthew Tkachuk

Original Cheddar: Jeff Skinner

Cheese and Bacon: Mat Barzal

Savoury: John Tavares

Vegemite and Cheese: Sidney Crosby

Lamb and Rosemary: Tyson Barrie

Meat Pie: Nathan Walker

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

📥 👩‍👧‍👧 💻 💭

:)

📥 Fave fic to receive comments on: Shape of You, for sure. It's my favourite fic of mine and I truly think it's my version of a masterpiece. I don't know that I'll write anything I like more even if it's not my most popular 💕💕 It's been called 'bizarre' a couple times and I adore that

👩‍👧‍👧Do you tell people in real life that you write fic?: My partner and my sister. My sister writes reader fics for Star Trek mostly (@dolamrothianlady ;) ). My partner did promote my writing to our friends one time though which was so genuine and nice?? I would never tell them which ones I write but that was cool (they know the fandom though 🫣)

💻 Do you research for fics? What's the deepest dive you've done? I am quite not good at doing focused research - I go on learning tangents all the time. The one that I dropped the most time into and even pestered my partner about was modifying number plates and how to half badly get away with it for my False Protector fic (not a fave). I wanted the unsub to modify their number plate to evade the BAU for a bit longer, but not do a spectacular job. And I wanted it to be relevant to the time period. Additionally for the same fic, I researched the impacts of aconite/wolfsbane and found an actual case where it was used and that was a wild rabbit hole. I love research.

💭 A headcannon you have about your own work?: Hrhgrh I'm not sure? In my Build Me Up, Buttercup fic I now always picture Luke joins Moreid later on and they throuple it up. I've been wanting to write it for an age but can't shake it out of my brain and onto my docs :( (yet, hopefully).

Thank you so much for sending this!! It was fun to respond to and think about, and I'm grateful ☺️💕

[frangipanidownunder]

top 3 or 5 brownie add-ins (like caramel or peanut butter etc)? top five teas (or coffee if you drink that)? top 3/5 uniquely australian food items?

Brownie add-ins:

I’ve never heard of this before and I usually only make one type - triple choc chip. But if I had to add other ingredients it would be:

3. Peanut butter

2. Peanut butter

1. Peanut butter.

Sorry! That’s cheating but I’m not a fan of walnuts in brownie mix and if it can’t be choc chips, it would have to be peanut butter.

Uniquely Australian food items:

I’m not a fan of a lot of the very Aussie food - Vegemite, sausage sizzle, chicken parma, meat pie, lamingtons, Anzac biscuits because I’m a whingeing pom, lol. But here are a few I do like:

5. Dim sims (but only on the barbie). They are great cut in half, barbecued and served with hot chilli sauce. Otherwise, they are disgusting. They’re a wanton pastry filled with what I assume is pork and cabbage but I probably don’t really want to know.

4. Pavlova. Especially home made with more crispy meringue than fluffy. I love a a pav with mango and berries, not too much cream.

3. Arnott’s Shapes. Crackers/dipping biscuits in a variety of flavours and I love the Chicken Crimpy flavour the best.

2. Kingfish. A firm white fish that has a distinct fresh and salty flavour. It’s delicious.

1. Tim Tam. The dark chocolate or the caramel variety are the best, although I try not to buy them because I’ll eat the whole lot.

Thanks for the ask, lovely.

[lepus-arcticus]

OMENS: CHAPTER FOUR one | two | three trigger warnings apply

KICKING HORSE B&B JULY 23 - 6:23 AM

Pale sunlight streamed into the room, warming Scully’s cheek, a peaceful change from last night’s storm. She grumbled and stretched underneath the covers, rotating a sore ankle on a cool patch of sheets before letting her eyes flutter open. No one could accuse her of being anything resembling a morning person, but she’d never had the ability to sleep in after a night of drinking.

She surveyed the room in the lavender dawn, sober now, and made mental notes for her own apartment before remembering that there wasn’t much point in redecorating when you had a rapidly approaching expiry date. Her nightmare bled back into her memory in snippets, skin and blood and sweetness and dread, tears and panic, Mulder at the door.

She winced and eased herself up on her elbows, and then the headache hit her, a bolt of pain behind her eyes. Oh, fuck. Jesus. Oh. She needed water, and coffee, stat. She hoped Rhiannon was up.

She fingered her wristwatch on the bedside table, squinting to look at the time. Early, but not so early that it was impolite to be up and about in the house. Gingerly, she rolled out of bed and felt around the footboard for her robe. She slipped it around her shoulders, and stiffly padded out into the hall. Her mouth tasted awful, so she dipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and finger-comb her hair, and then felt inspired to check in on Mulder.

She shouldn’t have been so harsh with him last night. He was only making sure she was okay. But that dream…

The door to his room was slightly open, and she could hear the steady, muffled sway of his snore. She peered inside, careful not to make a sound. He was completely buried in blankets, save for one long, bare foot sticking off of the edge of the mattress, toes twitching. A swell of guilty affection washed over her, and she had the urge to creep over and run her fingernails down the curve of his arch, see if he was ticklish.

Instead, she turned and moved down the hall, descending the stairs as the Bishop women and their dogs looked on. The wood creaked under her feet, and the sound summoned Hypatia, probably the only creature in the house unafflicted with a hangover. She met Scully a few steps up, whimpering in pleasure, slapping her with her tail and blocking the way downstairs. “Hey, sweet girl…” Scully massaged one of the dog’s fleecy ears between her thumb and fingertips, and maneuvered her way around her massive wriggling body and into the kitchen.

There was no evidence of yesterday’s dinner to be found. The kitchen practically sparkled, and something enticingly yeasty scented the air. A large pot of coffee was percolating, black and seductive, on the tiled counter, and the room was suffused in sunrise, beaming in from the attached conservatory.

A bittersweet hum trickled through the air, a melody that Scully recognized. The water is wide, I cannot get o’er, she thought, and heard ghostly strains of her father’s tuneless Navy warble. The memory tugged at her ribs. She followed the sound and found Rhiannon in the lushness of the conservatory, her frizzy corkscrew hair loose around her waist, lovingly plucking mint leaves one by one from a large potted bush propped up on a wooden bench. The conservatory was packed full of plant life⁠—ficuses and string-of-pearls, roses and tomatoes, and an assortment of herbs that would rival an 18th-century apothecary.

“My father used to sing that song to my sister and I when he was home from sea,” Scully said in greeting.

Rhiannon looked up and smiled. “Oh, good morning, Dana. I hope I didn’t wake you.” An embroidered velvet robe in faded garnet hung off of Rhiannon’s shoulders. With the halo of sunlight around her, the scene resembled a Mucha panel, especially when Hypatia left Scully’s side to wrap herself around Rhiannon’s hips. Her hair was so long that a tendril caught in the crimpy fur of Hypatia’s backbone, dragging in an alluring loop.

“No, no, you didn’t wake me,” Scully said, a little entranced. She wondered if she’d ever seen such a pretty scene in her life.

“I’ve got biscuits in the oven, care to join me in the kitchen? How are you feeling?”

“You know, I’d love a cup of coffee.”

Rhiannon chuckled softly at that, pressing a few more mint leaves into the handful she’d collected. “Perhaps the whiskey wasn’t the brightest idea. But the bottle invited itself to the table, and that’s the story I’m sticking to.”

“It was a wonderful dinner, Rhiannon. Thank you. I really wish you’d have let me help you clean up, though.”

“Oh, hush,” Rhiannon said, as she traipsed neatly across the tile past Scully and into the kitchen, depositing the mint leaves into a copper pot on the stovetop. She rattled four mismatched mugs down from the hutch in the corner, picked up the coffee pot, and tilted it over the largest one, the black stream of steaming liquid making Scully’s mouth water. “Now, Dana, how do you take your coffee? Cream, sugar? Or if you’d like, I can make it my way.”

Hell, why not. “Well, usually I just have a little soy milk, but when in Rome…” Scully smiled politely, leaning up against the counter and trying to ignore the pulse in her temple. She watched as Rhiannon caught a curled shard of cinnamon from a corked ceramic jar, and grated a nugget of nutmeg over it into a rough stone mortar. She added a swift dash of some mysterious blend from another jar, and ground it all together, rotating the pestle and humming lightly as she worked. A mound of butter was produced from the old-fashioned icebox, and she slid a generous pat of it onto a knife and into the mug, adding a fat pinch of the powdered spices, catching Scully’s slight grimace and imploring her not to knock it until she tried it.

“Here,” Rhiannon handed her the resulting brew, and Scully dutifully took a sip. A flood of heat and life immediately moved through her head, through her chest, down into her belly. It was delicious. It might have been the best cup of coffee she’d ever had.

“Oh my God, this is incredible,” she gushed over the rim of the mug, amazed, taking another sip. “... I really might never go back to soy.” Rhiannon laughed, busying herself with making another cup. “You’re quite the cook, Rhiannon. You’ve never thought of doing it professionally?”

“No,” she said, at work at the mortar. “No, I love what I do. I’ve always felt so connected with animals. Cooking’s just a hobby of mine, that’s all. An obsessive hobby, I’ll admit, but a hobby.”

“You’re, um. A medical doctor as well as a veterinarian, is that correct?” Scully asked.

“Well, I’m only certified in veterinary medicine, but my mother was a healer of sorts, so I learned a lot from her. I can handle the basic first-aid stuff⁠—when a kid from town needs stitches, when there’s an uncomplicated homebirth over at the settlement and they need assistance, that sort of thing - and I find a lot of concepts and practical applications carry forward. Medicine is such an instinctual practice anyway.”

“Hmm.” Scully cringed internally, but fought back the urge to argue with her. “Rhiannon, you know that you can’t legally practice medicine without a license.”

Rhiannon shrugged. “Is helping a neighbour out in a pinch the same as practicing medicine? Nobody’s going to sue me, Dana. Horizon isn’t New York.”

“That it is not,” Scully agreed. When they’d driven in to the police station the previous afternoon, they’d found it nestled in the middle of all of seven interlocking streets. The rest of the town, in name, was a scattering of isolated farmhouses and homesteads. She took another sip of her coffee. “Mulder mentioned that you performed an autopsy on Hugh Daly’s horse?”

“I looked him over…” Rhiannon said carefully, stirring spices into her own cup. “It was strange… it was as if Ghost just… laid his head down in the river. There aren’t many examples of suicidal behaviour in animals, unless you’re counting that bridge in Scotland where all those dogs are always jumping to their deaths. He was such a beautiful horse, wasn’t he?”

“Mmm,” Scully agreed.

“Hugh, um. Hugh bought that horse for Anna as a wedding gift. Oh, you should have seen her, Dana. She was like a fairy. She rode up to the church bareback, and she… she wasn’t wearing any shoes, and you know, it’s funny… that day… all I can really remember clearly are the soles of her feet, how dirty they were…” Her eyes misted over, unexpectedly, and she blinked up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her face into one of her wide sleeves and trying to compose herself. Her grief suddenly filled the room like smoke, and Scully couldn’t help but ache for her.

“I never liked that man,” Rhiannon said. “He was trouble from the start.” Scully furrowed her brows, uncomfortable. “You’re, um...You’re taking a look at Anna today, is that right?”

“Yes,” Scully replied softly. Theo’d arranged for a cleared-out room in the police station and had borrowed the requested materials and tools from Rhiannon’s supplies. Better than a bathroom, she supposed, thinking of Home, but if the photographs were any indication, Anna’s body was so thoroughly wrecked that she wasn’t sure there was much she could determine from it.

“I was the one who… who identified her body. Out in that field. Hugh was raving, out of his mind, he wouldn’t even look at her, wouldn’t even come close. God, I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing her like that… Theo let Marion see her too, that stupid, thoughtless man. He shouldn’t have done that.” She gripped the counter ledge, coffee abandoned, her eyes still swimming.

Scully reached out and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Rhiannon. I don’t know if I said it last night.”

“Those girls, Dana… they’re my daughters.” Rhiannon dashed a tear from her cheek. “And I failed. I failed to protect them.”

“This is not your fault,” Scully said. “You can’t take that on. But what you can do is tell us everything you know. About Anna, about Hugh, about anyone who might have wanted to hurt her. Beginning with how she came to live with you in the first place.”

Rhiannon sniffed, considering this. “It was that brother of hers. She had to get away.” Abel Stoesz, again. “Abel is… he’s controlling, he’s possessive… even after she made it clear she wasn’t ever going to go back to the colony, he’d come here, screaming at her from the driveway…” Rhiannon ran water from the sink into a blue-tinted Ball jar, and sipped at it, regaining her composure. “He’s been especially persistent with her since she married Hugh, though. It’s a good thing Fox is going to talk to him today, although I wish Marion wouldn’t go with him and subject herself to that. Sometimes I wonder why on earth she went into law enforcement. She’s such a sensitive spirit. But anything to impress Theo, I suppose. She worships the ground that man walks on.”

Scully turned this over in her mind. “If it’s any consolation… Mulder, he’s sensitive too, and it doesn’t negate his strength or his capability. I may not always agree with him, but he has this… incredible ability to get to the heart of an issue, to understand perspectives and motivations that other people might not consider. His compassion makes all the difference in our work. I’m sure it’ll prove to be the same with Marion as well.” She left out Mulder’s desperation, his obsessive nature, how wholly and intensely he took on the pain of the people left behind. How every unsolved case was a new gaping wound that would never scar over.

Rhiannon assessed her for a few moments as she sipped at the jar, leaning back on the wooden island across from her. “You two must be very close.”

“We’re partners,” Scully said. “We’ve been through a lot together.” Suddenly self-conscious, she drew deeply from her mug, draining it, willing her cheeks to cool. A timer sounded, and Rhiannon turned her attention to the oven, opening the ceramic door to reveal a tray of fluffy biscuits. The smell was incredible. Scully hadn’t had an appetite in months, but there was something about Rhiannon’s cooking that was just… different. It was nourishing, appealing in a way that her usual diner fare and dry green salads just weren’t.

Rhiannon retrieved a jar of preserves⁠—“Last year’s serviceberries were so prolific that I made fifty jars, can you believe that? And I’m pretty sure that Theo’s eaten forty of those”⁠—and plunked it on the worn kitchen table. She plucked the steaming biscuits from the tray and piled them onto a chipped blue china serving platter, setting it down on the table next to a bowl of oranges. Hypatia paced, looking for a handout.

Just as Scully was working up the energy to ask Rhiannon for a second cup of coffee, the front door was unlocked from the outside, and Marion, stately and clean in a freshly pressed uniform, strolled into the kitchen. “Morning, Dana,” she smiled at Scully, and gave Rhiannon a kiss on the cheek. Scully’s mind lingered on last night’s dream, the scent of cedar, the woman’s bow-shaped lips poised above her own, and she blinked down at the tile.

Rhiannon asked Marion if she’d like a cup of coffee, and Marion declined. “You’re on a real health kick lately, Mare,” Rhiannon complained, but Marion just shrugged and took a jam jar of water to the table.

Just then, Mulder bounded down the stairs in his running shoes and a Knicks tank, rattling the walls, his hair sticking up in every direction. “Morning, womenfolk,” he said, squinting in the sun. Scully pressed coffee-warm fingers to her pounding temple, and wondered how on earth it was possible for him to run with a hangover. Where did he get all of that energy? Hypatia whined excitedly at the sight of him and rushed to his legs, but he sidestepped her, patting her awkwardly on the head after a moment of hesitation, and made for the sink. He turned on the tap and stuck his mouth under the running water, sucking at the stream obscenely. “Mulder⁠—” Scully scolded him, embarrassed, but the other women just smirked.

Mulder leaned against the counter and wiped his mouth with the hem of his shirt. Scully found herself looking at the lines of his hipbones disappearing into his sweats, and ripped her eyes away, but Rhiannon caught her and smiled knowingly.

“I’m seriously outnumbered here without Theo,” he quipped. “Marion, you okay if I go for a run before we leave?”

“Of course. Take your time. I’m still waking up, and it’s not like they’re expecting us.” Marion scuffled her nails on the tabletop, eyeing him openly.

“Fox, do you mind taking Hypatia with you? She doesn’t need a leash. There’s a lake a little way along the path out back, she’ll take you right to it and bring you back,” Rhiannon said, clearly not expecting him to refuse. Scully glanced at Mulder and caught him looking at her, defeated.

“Save some breakfast for me, Scully,” Mulder squeezed her shoulder on his way past her, last night’s tense exchange wordlessly forgiven. He begrudgingly held the screen door open for the dog, who trotted happily past him and down into the front yard.

“Uh, yum, Dana,” Marion laughed, once he was out of earshot. “Fox is a hunk under all that trenchcoat. I think I was too distracted by that awful tie of his to notice last night.”

Scully felt a grin tug at her lips, despite her best intentions. She suddenly realized how much she missed having female friends; Ellen’s cupboard full of cheap, secret wine, her college roommate Andrea’s fresh flower habit. Melissa, of course, with her incense and her crystals and the way she insisted on carefully studying the full astrological chart of every person Scully slept with.

She leaned towards Marion conspiratorially, nostalgia thrumming. “You should see him in glasses.”

8:04 AM

Mulder’s feet pounded mercilessly into the wet, mulchy grass at a counter-rhythm to the ferocious throb in his head. The trail to the pond was a worn, crushed valley through a field of knee-high wilderness. Wildflowers bloomed, silvery wolfwillow spicing the air with a sour, soaked-fur smell. The dog ran gracefully in front of him, darting off into the distance before returning to circle around his feet, panting joyously. Mulder had the distinct impression she was making fun of him.

“You’ve got four legs and I’ve only got two, you foul hellbeast⁠—” he called to her on her next rocket away. “This whole thing is rigged!” She barked happily in response, and reared onto her hind legs before jolting back to him for another relay.

His thoughts turned to Scully. God, sitting in that bed with her… he’d gotten dangerously close to doing something he’d certainly regret. Whiskey always made him dumb as shit, impulsive.

And her nightmare. He’d only been dozing, and her scream through the wall had been like a wave of ice water over him. How he’d wanted to run in there, wrap her in his arms, chase the shadows away. But she was right. She didn’t need him. Not like that.

He smelled the lake before he saw it, a moist earthy fetor tossed over the land like a wet blanket. As he came upon the glittering water, spooking a few mallards into flight, he noticed a rotting boat in the reeds on the far bank, turquoise paint flaking off in sheets. Just for something to do, he circled the lake at a sprint until he was closer to it. The dog trotted behind him, nose to the ground.

“Don’t eat anything weird,” he warned her, almost tripping as he drummed his heels to a stop. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and his stinging eyes. The morning sun shattered off of the surface of the lake and warmed the back of his neck, and he took a moment to kick out his legs a little as he caught his breath, bending to massage his aching right knee. The dog began to whimper irritably, a low growl that crescendoed into a keening whine. She threaded her long snout under his elbow.

“Hey⁠—stop it⁠—” He brushed her nose away, and returned to pressing his fingers around his oft-tortured patella. Scully’d been trying to get him to wear a knee brace lately, but he didn’t think he was ready to admit that he needed one. Maybe he should just swallow his ego before he did permanent damage, and had to resort to pumping on the elliptical with the government trophy wives at the Planet Fitness down the street from his apartment.

The dog moaned low, insistent, and let loose a stream of discontented yips. He looked up at her to find her crouching, her ears plastered backwards on her skull. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He chuffed a knuckle on her muzzle, and when she didn’t look up at him, he followed her eyeline.

The bottom of the boat was pooled with lakewater and blood.

A dead fox was curled in the murk, his toothy maw twisted into a grimace, as if in pain. The kohl tips of his ears were ragged. His eyes were closed. The dog yowled and whimpered behind him, pacing.

The sweet, mushroomy smell of death furled up from the corpse as Mulder leaned over it, looking for a wound. A few flies buzzed in circles around the eyes, nose, and mouth of the creature. As he got closer, he noticed the wriggling white body of a maggot crawl from the fox’s black-rimmed lip. A cold chill pierced Mulder’s stomach, and he retched into the grass beside him as he whirled away from the scene, losing what was left of last night’s dinner. The dog wailed.

He spat, and looked back up in horror.

“Fucking Jesus fuck,” he swore, scrunching his eyes and scrubbing his face with his palms. The dog’s crouching body was a coil of tension behind him. He backed away, but she wouldn’t follow.

“C’mere, dog,” he called, his voice rusty with bile. “Get away from that.”

The dog dainted a wide berth around the boat, starting and stopping, and Mulder called her again. “C’mon girl. Let’s go. C’mon.” She finally worked up the courage to pass it, throwing back a fierce growl as she skittered along. Mulder spat again, wishing for some water, and launched into a punishing pace back to Kicking Horse.

The sense of unease swirled around him. The dog ran in front this time, leaving him in the dust, eager to get home to her mistress. The fox in the boat couldn’t be a coincidence. Not with his name. Not with Scully’s vulpine head of hair.

Two omens in two days. Shit. And this one was personal.

[thingsarealotworsethanyouthink]

why even make foodlogs?

I always plan my meals and change my mind every second on what I want to eat.

Ended up having broth around 11:00 (15 cal), another cup of coffee with milk (20 cal). I had my chicken wrap already because tonight I’m going to bed at like 8 pm, but didn’t realize I accidentally ordered breaded? So I decided to nix the avocado so just the wrap is 457. So far 502, although I’ll probably have a couple bites of ice cream before bed.

i put up an ask me section if anyone wants to busy my hands until bed so they can’t stick food in my face. if not, i’m braiding my hair again. it turned out pretty crimpy this morning so i’d like to try again.

[cuntyarmand]

@newtongeissler tagged me to answer these things so 🌻

1. do you make your bed? Nope, there’s no point!

2. what’s your favourite number? 9!

3. what’s your job? Fashion retail.

4. can you parallel park? Can’t even drive!

5. a job you’ve had which would surprise people? The one I’m in.. considering how high anxiety I was when I got it.

6. do you think aliens are real? No

7. can you drive a manual? Nope.

8. what’s your guilty pleasure? Eating a whole box of chicken crimpy shapes 😭

9. tattoos? Probably not. I’m too indecisive.

10. favourite colour? Purple.

11. things people do that drive you crazy? Talking on their phones when I’m trying to serve them, loud eaters omg 😒, not covering their mouths when they sneeze/cough, lying, preaching... so many more.

12. any phobias? Eels 😬

13. favourite childhood sport? Listen... Ithink we can all guess I was never a sport kid.

14. do you talk to yourself? Constantly. I talk myself through everything at work 😂

15. what movies do you adore? Anything directed by Taika.

16. do you like puzzles? Too much thinking.

17. favourite kind of music? I don’t really have a particular... if I like it, I like it.

18. tea or coffee? Licherally can’t drink coffee, so tea!

19. what’s the first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? I asked my mum because I couldn’t remember.. she said I wanted to work in a clothes shop fk 😭😭

I’m tagging @bookloverkat, @zoekravetz, @hramatics, @hrrysgirl ✨

[namemylobster]

I Have No Idea What A Chicken Crimpy Is And At This Point I’m Too Afraid To Ask

[admiralsushishin]

What are your favorite animals and snacks from your country?

Hello, anon! I've had this sitting around for ages, sorry haha.

Favourite animals:

Platypus

Sulphur-crested cockatoo

Quokka

Favourite snacks (yeahhh I'm a savoury person):

Hot chips with chicken salt

Sausage rolls (with tomato sauce!)

Wagon Wheels

Honey Soy Chicken chips (gotta be the Red Rock Deli brand tho)

Chicken Crimpy Shapes

Thank you for asking! :D