#do you love the colour of dana scully?

[freckleslikestars]

Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully in every episode of The X Files

[ismelinor]

Tantalus

Read on AO3 | tagging @today-in-fic | word count: 3,413

Summary: Mulder kisses Scully while she has cancer - and naturally, they never talk about what it means. Scully overhears Mulder calling it a mistake, and her hurt and confusion colour her view of their tumultuous relationship during seasons 5 and 6. TW: vague reference to suicidal thoughts.

There was nothing extraordinary about the day he finally kissed her. In fact, looking back, she’d be hard pressed to say which day it was: they all blurred together, those interminable hours spent on hospital beds, waiting for another visitor to stop by with wide, sad eyes. It made her feel like she was already in a casket, her loved ones processing past the body to say their goodbyes.

~~~

In the early days of her cancer, she’d found herself strangely fixated on a memory from her time on the oncology wards as a medical student. Mrs Baddesley was the lady’s name. Scully always thought of her as Mrs Baddesley, even though you can call me Polly, dear was practically her catchphrase. She remembered presenting her to the consultant, in the days when presenting a patient was still something new and nerve-wracking: This is Mrs Baddesley, seventy-three years old, presenting with a lung tumour secondary to an ovarian tumour. Treatment is adjuvant chemotherapy. Cisplatin appears relatively well received, with some nausea and vomiting reported.

Scully (who was just Dana in those days) got through her presentation relatively unscathed. The consultant had grilled her on mechanisms of action and drug distributions, but she wasn’t top of her class for nothing. As the doctor swept out of the room, her classmates following in his wake, Mrs Baddesley had clasped Scully’s hand. She looked down in surprise, worried that she’d offended her, but she was smiling.

“You looked more nervous than I am, and I’m on my third round of chemotherapy,” she said. Scully ducked her head, embarrassed: she was still learning to don that mask of clinical detachment. Mrs Baddesley squeezed her hand. “It’s a good thing, dear. I’ve banished my poor husband from the hospital, and it’s nice to meet another human being round here.”

The remark had confused Scully at the time, but it wasn’t until a month or so later that she understood it. She’d come across Mrs Baddesley again, this time in the outpatient waiting room, and had sat down to talk to her. She was doing well, she said. The chemotherapy hadn’t worked, but she’d made the decision to stop treatment. She smiled as she spoke about how she wanted her last months to go: she didn’t mind where she was, as long as her husband was there.

After a lull in the conversation, Scully asked why she’d not let her husband come to the hospital. Mrs Baddesley nodded, like she approved of the question. That was how Scully learned something her textbooks hadn’t told her: that patients could develop aversions to certain smells and tastes if they were exposed to them during chemotherapy. Turkey had been Mrs Baddesley’s favourite food before her first experience with cancer – and then she’d been given a Thanksgiving dinner during the worst of her chemotherapy, and ever since, the very sight of turkey made her retch. This time around, she’d been so scared that she’d develop an aversion to her husband’s smell that she wouldn’t let him visit her at all on the chemo days.

Scully never found out what happened to Mrs Baddesley, but her story had stuck with her over the years, and came back with full force after her diagnosis. In those early days, when she’d still had hope that, with the right treatment, she might make it through, she’d been careful to eat only bland foods. She’d switched out her bath salts and body scrubs for cheap unscented body washes. She’d even asked her mother to stop wearing her signature perfume, the one that always reminded Scully of playing dress-up with Melissa in their mother’s blazers.

She couldn’t bring herself to ask anything of Mulder, though. The idea of being deprived of his scent in those days when he seemed to do nothing but wrap his arms around her – it was unthinkable.

And then, of course, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to make it out alive, so she didn’t need to worry about associations and aversions after all. That was what she was thinking on that totally un-extraordinary day in the hospital as Mulder sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand. Odd as it sounded, she was glad she could smell him to her heart’s content.

She wondered what he was thinking, looking down at her with dark eyes and the hint of a smile. She didn’t have to wonder for long: he cupped her face, leaned down, and kissed her, just like that. For a moment, all Scully could think of was how chapped and dry her lips must be, but then he licked at them and all rational thoughts made a swift departure. All that remained was God, finally and yes, yes, yes and her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

It took a long time for him to pull back – about two minutes too long for it to be quietly brushed off as a quick peck between friends. He had a dazed expression on his face, which Scully thoroughly enjoyed. She sat up to chase his lips, fingers still carding through his hair, but the movement proved too much for the precarious state of her stomach, and she leapt out of bed to the toilet – a move she’d had too much practice of lately. Her lunch was in the toilet bowl – the Jell-O Mulder had pressed on her quickly threatening to join it – and she felt him stroking her hair back.

They’d been through too much together for her to feel embarrassed by this little episode. Once she was done, Mulder kissed the crown of her head and left her to clean her teeth. He had to get back to work; he was going to find a cure, he told her – he’d told her that before, of course, but this time…well, this time, she had a really good reason to hope he was right. That kiss was a promise. If she got better – well, they wouldn’t be interrupted by any ill-timed vomiting. She’d make sure of it.

~~~

And then she had gotten better.

There was no kissing yet, but that was okay. She was still recovering, and she knew that he needed to recover too.

There was promise, though. Something was shifting and shimmering between them: she could see it in his eyes as much as she could feel it within herself. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t put it into words: Mulder was right – they had an unspoken communication between them.

Driving to a teamwork seminar, whispering in the back of the car, she thought this might be it. Time away from the x-files, no life-threatening danger, plenty of time to talk across towers of office furniture. She was a little disappointed and more than a little irritated when Mulder blew off the conference at the first opportunity. He seemed to be blowing her off too, which worried her; it was something he’d done all the time when they’d first met – running off after leads without so much as a by-your-leave, but he tended to be more thoughtful these days.

She wondered if he was waiting for her to say something. That was fair, she supposed: he’d been the one to kiss her in the first place; perhaps it was her turn to make a move. So, she walked into his motel room with a plate of minibar wine and cheese…and naturally, he was completely oblivious and hightailed it out of there like his ass was on fire.

Still, they end up practically cuddling on the forest floor – and, realistically, wasn’t risking death by exposure and huddling for warmth much more them than wine and cheese? She wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide, so she told him about her anger when she was diagnosed with cancer, talked about giving her struggle meaning, and looked down at him, hoping that their unspoken communication would bring him the words she couldn’t quite say: that he had given her life meaning. He had brought her hope when all hope was lost, had loaned her his faith when hers had run out.

She hoped he understood.

~~~

It was a few weeks later that everything went wrong.

She’d bought a new pair of heels – the last ones had snapped when she was chasing down a suspect – and they were hell on her arches. She’d taken them off in the bathroom on her way back from lunch and was padding down the hallway back to the office, wincing with every step, when she heard Mulder’s voice through the door. She caught her name and decided to do some eavesdropping (what was a little eavesdropping between friends?), keeping her steps as quiet as possible as she approached the door.

“-and I told you that in confidence, Byers.” That wasn’t very promising: he was on the phone to the lone gunmen, then.

“I know you think I should tell her. You’ve told me a thousand times. I can’t.” Huh. Scully strongly suspected that she was the only ‘her’ in Mulder’s life. She certainly hoped so, after the way he’d kissed her.

“It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. It’s never going to happen again, so I don’t see why we need to talk about it.” Scully had a nasty feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to listen anymore, but she was frozen in place. “You didn’t see her in that hospital bed. She was dying and there was nothing I could say or do to make it better.” Oh God.

“I know that, Byers. It was the lowest moment of my life. You think I don’t feel guilty enough? All I think about is that goddamn kiss-”

Scully backed away from the door, vision whiting out for a moment. He wasn’t – surely, he didn’t mean-

She turned and walked back down the hall as quickly and quietly as she could. She didn’t stop until she was sitting in her car in the lot, hands on the wheel and tears streaming down her face.

How could he?

That was the only question in her mind for the entire drive back to her apartment.

How could he call their kiss the lowest moment of his life?

How could he gossip about it to his friends, like she was some one-night stand and not his partner of five years?

How could he have kissed her in the first place, if he knew he didn’t have feelings for her?

Ha. Well, that explained the severe lack of reciprocation since her recovery. He hadn’t wanted to kiss her in the first place. He’d seen how much she wanted it – had pitied her – and figured he’d never have to follow through, since she’d be fucking dead anyway.

That was when the rage hit her.

She’d always had something of a temper, though she’d learned to push it down, only let it out when lives were at stake. That annoyed her too. She hated being called fiery – hated the not-so-subtle references to her hair or her biology. The men she worked with never seemed to need explanations for their anger – nobody smirked and asked if it was their time of the month, sweetheart.

As she slammed the door to her apartment shut behind her, she gave full vent to her feelings. Mulder was a jerk. He was as bad as those immature, misogynistic G-men she had to deal with every day. No, no, he was worse. He’d played with her hopes when she was at her most vulnerable, and apparently had never even planned on telling her that he regretted it. What, he was just going to leave her waiting for another kiss for the rest of her life? Asshole. And she’d seen the look on his face after they kissed; that was not the look of a man at his lowest moment. Maybe he’d reflected later on and grown to regret it, but he was lying to his friends and to himself if he said he wasn’t on fire in that moment, just like she was.

~~~

After a while, the rage subsided, and she just felt sad. She loved her job, she really did. She loved working with Mulder – she loved Mulder – but the idea that she would never have more filled her with profound sadness and indescribable longing. She wanted a life outside their quest – something to come home to after the long stake-outs and the brushes with death and the flirting in cars. And she’d really thought that was within her reach.

She was Tantalus: she’d stolen the secrets of the gods, and her punishment was to see everything she ever wanted just out of reach. Her safety – her sister – her health – her child – and now Mulder, all slipping through her fingers.

She was sad for herself, but she was sad for Mulder too. As soon as she was calm enough to think it through, the situation started to make sense, because Mulder wasn’t a jerk. She knew the way he’d been treated after his sister disappeared – the way he was blamed and the way he blamed himself – how he had twisted himself up in knots to please parents who barely acknowledged his existence. And she’d had some insight into his former relationships, none of which sounded healthy; she was willing to bet that he’d changed himself for those women too – that he’d forced himself to do things he didn’t want to in order to please them, because he felt like he didn’t deserve better. So, of course, when he saw a dying woman’s dying wish in her eyes, he’d fulfilled it, without a thought to what he wanted.

It made her sick, and she was still angry that he’d talked to his friends about it instead of her, but she understood it. And so she wiped her tears away, stowed away her anger for the next time lives were at stake, and drove right on back to work. When Mulder asked where she’d been, she managed a tight smile and told him she got stuck in line at the bank. The pencil that fell from the ceiling and hit him on the nose told her he’d missed her, at least. The smile on his face when she told him that the dinosaur-human hybrid he’d been doodling was downright anti-Darwinian was something close to love, wasn’t it?

~~~

The thing was – the thing was, that really would have been enough for her, had she never met Diana Fowley. She could have very readily believed that Mulder loved her as much as he was capable of loving another person: he was entirely devoted to her, she knew – he’d coughed up a half-dozen heartfelt speeches and a round trip to Antarctica to prove it. And Scully could take all of that – all the not-quite-love-confessions and the hospital visits and the forehead kisses – and she could mould it into something that was Enough.

But, no. In Diana Fowley there was living proof that Mulder, like her, wanted it all – had had it, too: a partner in his life’s work and a lover all in one. And suddenly it wasn’t Enough anymore.

Maybe it was childish and selfish, but if all those things between them that gave her life meaning were, to him, a mere echo of a life he’d shared with someone else, they were worth less to her. She couldn’t tell him that, of course. He seemed a hair-trigger away from calling her jealous and delusional at the slightest mention of Fowley – never mind the fact that she’d come to him with very real grounds for distrust.

These days, she felt like she was out at sea – that she was on her little boat of science and reason, being tossed about in his cosmic storm. She drove to work each morning wondering whether he’d be sweet or dismissive; whether he’d argue every little point with her or belly laugh at her wry jokes. It was maddening. He tried to kiss her a second time – he abandoned her to run off with Diana – he told her he loved her – he told her she was making it personal – he played doting husband – he played baseball with his arms around her – he called the debates that were the core of their partnership a perfunctory dance – he called her his constant, his touchstone.

What the hell was she supposed to make of it all?

~~~

It was after the world didn’t end in a hospital corridor that she finally just asked the question that had been on her mind for two and a half years.

“Mulder, why did you kiss me when I had cancer?”

He stared at her, opening and closing his mouth before finding the words. “I couldn’t help myself. I thought we might not get another chance. Same reason I kissed you in 1939.”

“You what?”

“Never mind that, Scully, why-”

“Yes, never mind that. The real question is how can you stand there and lie to me after everything we’ve been through together?”

“Lie to you? I’m not lying, Scully.”

“You are!” They could both hear the sob in her voice, and Mulder reached out to touch her arm but she flinched away. “I heard you on the phone to Byers. You called it the lowest moment of your life.”

“What? Scully, I never said that, I swear. I would never – all these years – every day, all I think about is that goddamn kiss.”

“You said that, too. I heard you, Mulder. You said it was a moment of weakness, and it would never happen again. You were pretty adamant on that point, actually. But it hasn’t stopped you trying, has it? Twice, now.”

Mulder stepped away, pale as she’d ever seen him. He remembered it, then. She wiped away a traitorous tear.

“I know what you mean, Scully. Or…I don’t remember the exact conversation, because I had a lot of phone calls with Byers that went something like that. But we weren’t talking about the kiss.”

Scully turned to leave – she wasn’t going to stand here listening to his bullshit excuses – but Mulder walked over and took her by the shoulders.

“Please listen to me, Scully. Please, please, hear me out. I can’t let this come between us any more than it already has.” It was the same tone of voice he’d used on her in a different corridor, but it was the feeling of his hands shaking on her shoulders that stopped her. She nodded at him.

“When you were sick – when it looked really bad, and I knew it was my fault that you were dying – no, don’t, it was – I did have a moment of weakness. I went back to my place and I drank too much. Nothing happened, I swear, I just thought about it. I got out my gun and I thought…but then I thought about you, and about our kiss, and what that meant, and I knew I couldn’t do it. It was just one moment, honestly. I called Byers and told him everything while I was still drunk and he talked me down from it. Once you got better, he wanted me to tell you, but you were still recovering and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to take care of me, and –”

Scully pulled him into her arms. She didn’t care about the kiss in that moment; all she could think of was how close she’d come to losing him, and she’d never even known it. God, what the hell would she have done?

He was still mouthing apologies into her neck so she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands.

“You didn’t regret it?” she asked.

“Not for a second.”

“You never brought it up again.” Illogical as it was, she found it hard to let go of the hurt she’d been carrying around for so long.

“Neither did you. And then, with Emily…I figured you needed space. I thought you’d say something when you were ready – and when you didn’t, I figured you regretted it.”

Scully laughed, though there were tears running down her face. They could figure out a global conspiracy but one little kiss had thrown them through a loop it took them two years to get out of.

She stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs: my constant. She stroked his lips: my touchstone. And then she kissed him, an answer to the promise he’d made her on her deathbed.

[scullyverse]

Day 3: Tell Me

Prompt: Phone/Cyber Sex Pairing: Stella/Scully Rating: Explicit Words: 2,863 AO3 Link || Masterlist

🖤 Content warnings; stella/scully, smut, plot what plot/porn without plot, shameless smut, fluff, fluff and smut, phone sex, dirty talk, sex toys, masturbation, vibrators 🖤

Scully goes home for the holidays and misses Stella - in more ways than one.

“Hello, you.” Stella purrs on the other end of the phone and Dana smiles at the familiar voice.

“Hello, yourself,” Dana replies, her fingers sliding through her hair as she settles into her bed. “I miss you. Mum misses you too, she wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”

“That’s sweet of her, I miss you all too. I’ll make sure to call her in the morning.”

Dana’s heart flutters, a stirring of affection towards the love Stella has for her family, as well as the love her family has for Stella in return.

“It’s weird that you’re not here,” Dana muses on her thoughts and looks up at the multi-coloured twinkling of Christmas lights dancing across the ceiling of her childhood bedroom. “My bed feels very empty.”

“Our bed feels quite empty too. I don’t have a certain redhead here hogging all the covers.” Stella teases and Dana can just imagine the smirk she knows is accompanying her words.

“Is that where you are? In bed?” She asks curiously, trying to form a picture in her head of what Stella’s doing, all those miles across the sea.

There’s a pause and a slight rustle of — what Dana assumes — are sheets.

“I am,” Stella confirms with a sense of playfulness, hiding just beneath her calmness. “Are you?”

Dana hums a reply and bites her bottom lip; a tingle of arousal teasing her senses, cautiously lapping at her like waves breaking on a shoreline. “Yep, pink frilly sheets and everything.”

Stella snorts a chuckle and she smiles, well aware of Stella’s reaction when she’d brought her up to see her childhood bedroom for the first time when she’d visited all those years ago — “Of course, you would have pink frilly sheets.”

She also remembers how hot the sex was that night — albeit quiet, desperately quiet, having to muffle cries of pleasure into her pillow — as Stella pinned her down to the bed and whispered filthy things into her ear — of how naughty she was, committing such a sin; as the figure of God that hung above her bed watched them.

Her body suddenly feels warm and tingly.

“I can hear you thinking over the phone, Dana.”

“I was just thinking about the first time you fucked me on this bed.”

Stella rumbles a moan, deep and a little sharp; hinting that there’s a lustrous grin on her face. “Oh, really?”

“Mmhmm,” Dana confirms, allowing herself to dwell in her arousing thoughts for a few moments more. “Do you remember it?”

“Of course,” Stella’s voice is molten. “You had to bite your pillow because your parents were downstairs. I remember the look of desperation in your eyes when you came, whining and panting to stop yourself from screaming.

She swallows when she finds herself clenching her thighs, arousal simmering in her stomach as she teases the valley between her breasts with short, manicured nails.

“It made me so aroused to see you like that.” Stella finishes with a tempting groan.

Somehow all the buttons had come undone on her pyjama shirt, her fingers confident and precise.

“Stella?” Dana questions, her voice thick with wanting. “What are you wearing right now?”

It’s a gamble — but one she feels increasingly eager to wager as her nails continue to elicit goosebumps on her skin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would.”

“I’m wearing my robe,” Stella tempts huskily. “The black one you like.”

She could see her now; reclining in their bed like she does when she’s reading, propped up under the covers. Or she might even be sitting on top of the covers, knees bent with her creamy thighs slipped through the parted fabric — maybe even a glimpse of her bare pussy, if she’s feeling extra devious.

Her hormones are rapidly replacing any trepidation she might have had before.

“Take it off.”

“Excuse me? ” Stella sounds somewhat surprised, maybe even a little flabbergasted, at the request to take this further than their usual teasing.

“I want you to take it off.”

Stella stutters slightly and, for a second, Dana thinks that maybe she’s pushing things too far, the air thick as her fingers still in anticipation.

“And how exactly are you going to keep quiet if we do this, Kitten?” Stella purrs and it makes Dana subtly clench her thighs together. “Bite your pillow again?”

Stella using her pet name is all the green light she needs as Dana moans softly with a grin, excitement mingling with her arousal.

“I’ve been masturbating in this room for a long time, I think I can manage it one more time without getting caught.”

“Good,” Stella hums her approval. “And what are you wearing?”

“My blue pyjamas,” Dana closes her eyes again, fingers teasing her nipples over slippery silk. “They feel nice on my skin as I’m touching-“

“What feels nice?” Stella interrupts, voice low and hot, making shivers rumble down her spine. “Are you touching yourself, Dana?”

“Yes.”

There’s a muffle of movement on the line — maybe she’s touching herself too, God, I hope so — before Stella speaks again.

“Tell me.”

Dana’s cheeks flush hot.

“I’m touching my nipples over my shirt,” She divulges, allowing her fingers to continue their exploration with Stella’s consent. “And the silk feels incredible.”

“Are your nipples hard?”

She sucks in a breath at Stella’s forwardness, a rush of heat pooling between her legs. She’s always admired Stella’s confidence and it’s only an added — major — turn on for her in the bedroom.

“Yes, they are.”

Stella moans and Dana bites her bottom lip curiously. “Are you touching yourself too, Stella?”

Another pause. 

The only disturbance is the faint sound of Stella breathing — or maybe it was her own breathing, she wasn’t sure.

“I might be,” Stella teases. “I wouldn’t have taken my robe off if that wasn’t my intention.”

The images that flood Dana’s mind makes her shiver.

“I think you should join me, Dana. I want you to take it all off. Everything.”

Dana opens her eyes and grins at the request. “Okay. Give me a bit?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Putting her phone down, she sits up to remove her shirt and with a skillful wiggle of her hips, her pants and underwear join it at the foot of the bed. It feels strange to be naked in this bed again, the starchy sheets scratchy on her skin, as she settles down under the covers.

“I’m back,” Dana cradles the phone to her cheek. “I hope I haven’t missed too much?”

“Only a little,” Stella trails off with a tempting tone. “I’ve just been making my nipples as hard as yours.”

“And? Are they?” Dana asks, eyes closing as she slides her fingers over her bare chest, marveling at how her nipples tighten and pucker under her fingertips.

“They are.”

It's Dana’s turn to moan, pinching a nipple and the instant she squeezes her thighs together — minus the barriers of cotton and silk — her eyebrows raise in revelation.

“Wow.” Dana breathes out in awe.

“What?” Stella inquires and Dana can picture the cocked eyebrow to match.

“I hadn’t realized how wet I am already.” Dana flushes a little in embarrassment.

Stella hums flirtatiously. “Did you get impatient, Kitten?”

“No,” Dana blushes for a whole different reason. “I just felt it when I closed my legs.”

“Touch your cunt and tell me exactly how wet you are.”

Dana could never say that Stella begs. But there are moments — like now — when there’s a waver in her voice that makes Dana as hot and fluid as the arousal growing between her legs.

Shuffling her sheets, her hand makes its way underneath and when her middle finger slides confidently between her labia, she’s rewarded with thick, sticky arousal coating her finger.

“I’m so wet ,” Dana marvels with a soft moan.

“Good,” Stella whispers, the hot sound ticking the inside of Dana’s ear. “Taste yourself for me.”

“W-What? ” Dana’s inquisitive finger stills, eyes opening in surprise.

“I want you to taste yourself,” Stella repeats, this time more assertive.

And Dana could never disobey her.

That, and there was something incredibly tantalizing about the idea of tasting herself — without either Stella’s fingers in her mouth or her tangy sweetness coating Stella’s lips.

Gathering her arousal, Dana swallows and admires how her fingers glisten in the twinkle of Christmas lights before tentatively bringing them to her mouth. A salty tang hits her tongue and she moans — unable to hold back, only further spurred on by Stella’s praise of “Good girl.”

“It’s salty, a little bit sweet too,” Dana observes with a lick of her lips as her fingers return to her nipple.

“Mmm, perfect.”

“How do you taste, Stella?” She knows she sounds a little desperate, but she’s beginning not to care in the slightest. “Do you taste as sweet as when I last fucked you?”

Dana’s thighs clench together, hard, when she hears soft sucking noises.

“I do. So sweet,” Stella sighs fervidly. “I don’t taste as delectable as you, but I suppose I’ll have to settle, for now.”

Dana huffs a chuckle, a smile tugging on her lips.

“I think you should touch your clit now, Dana,” There was that tone again. “Because I’m getting impatient and I want to come.”

Dana’s chuckle turns into a giggle, muffling it into her pillow.

“Impatient? You?” Dana teases and is rewarded with a low, throaty chuckle in return. “Never.”

“Hush,” Stella challenges. “Now, do as you’re told, Kitten.”

It takes only seconds for Dana’s fingers to slide through her swollen lips and begin a familiar rhythm on her clit, hips arching off the bed with a satisfied whine.

“Feels good,” Dana whispers, trying to keep her volume down. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m teasing my clit with my fingertip, like how you do with your tongue.”

Stella’s reply is direct; to the point, and it only makes Dana’s fingers increase in pace.

They’re both focused; the only sounds are soft moans and occasional words of encouragement before things get heated. The teasing is replaced with a need — a primal, raw, hungry need — to come.

“This is harder than I remember,” Dana whines. “My phone keeps slipping.”

Stella hums her agreement.

It’s been a while since they've done this and Dana’s growing increasingly frustrated at having to put so much extra effort into keeping her phone in place.

“Did you bring Mimi with you?” Stella asks, her voice breathy and rough.

“Yeah,” Dana swallows and lets her fingers slow down.

“Get it.”

Dana — somewhat reluctantly — gets out of the bed and rummages through her suitcase. It’s riskier using it, but she has enough experience to know that her thick sheets and room location in the house should diffuse most of the sounds.

“Are you going to use yours as well?” She asks and settles back into bed, the pink silicone vibrator resting in her palm.

There’s a faint buzzing on the phone and Dana has to bite her lip. Oh, yeah, she’s using it. Fuck, that’s hot.

“Mmhmm,” Stella confirms with a slight moan.

Dana turns on the toy with skillful fingers and nestles it against her clit, closing her thighs to keep it in place so she can keep her hands free. The vibrations make her jolt in pleasure, neck arching into her pillow.

“God!”

It’s a hushed prayer, followed by a whine and squirming of her hips.

“Does it feel good, Dana?” Stella’s voice is low and dangerous — hungry. “Does it feel good pressed against your clit? Teasing you and making you throb? Tell me.”

“Jesus, Stella,” Dana’s fingers grip her phone tightly as her hips undulate to chase her approaching orgasm. “It feels so good, so fucking good. My clit feels all tingly… God, I wish it was your tongue right now.”

“Me too,” Stella slurs somewhat, drawling in pleasure. “I want to come all over that talented little mouth of yours.”

Dana’s thighs clench harder as she starts to feel the all too familiar heat blossoming in her stomach.

“I’m getting close,” Stella warns and Dana sucks in a breath.

“Yes, me too,” Dana whimpers, her free hand gripping the sheets in white knuckles. “I want to come with you. Tell me when, please, Stel?”

“Mmm, I promise, baby.”

Dana grins as she pants before a particular thrust of her hips hits her in just the right way, parting her lips in a breathless “Oh.”

Her thighs are shaking and her fingers are becoming hesitant around her sheets; greedy to shoot between her legs and tip herself over the edge, knowing she only needs the slightest bit of pressure. It’s becoming unbearable, her clit pulsing wildly in protest at her inability to give it what it needs.

Biting her bottom lip, her voice is hot and exceedingly desperate.

“Stella,” It’s a warning she only uses in the bedroom; a drop in her voice when her orgasm is starting, where she can only suppress it for so long before it becomes inevitable. “I-I can’t…”

“Fuck, Dana, are you gonna come for me?” Stella’s moan is almost a rumbling growl. “I’m nearly there. Wait for me, wait for me.”

“I’m too close,” Dana’s brow creases together in concentration, toes digging desperately into her mattress. “I don’t know how long I can hold on… It’s coming…God, please, Stella!”

She’s sure it’s her hushed begging that’s the final tipping point that does Stella in.

“A-Ah!” Stella gasps. “I’m coming, I’m coming…now!”

Dana’s hand shoots between her legs and it takes only a second before she’s there too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dana whimpers, trying her hardest to keep quiet. “ I’m there…Stella, I’m coming!”

It’s an explosion — one more intense than she’s expecting — and it leaves her breathless. Her head arches off the pillow and her thighs trap her hand between her legs to hold the vibrator to her clit. Stars shoot behind her eyes as her phone slips down to her sweaty chest, her clit rhythmically throbbing and pulsing; enveloping her in complete euphoria. 

She pictures Stella’s fingers buried deep inside her and her pouted, swollen lips wrapped around her clit.

Her orgasm seems to go on forever — but at the same time not long enough — and soon she’s getting oversensitive. Turning the vibrator off, she lets it slip from between her thighs, forgotten, as she catches her breath.

Bringing the phone back to her ear, she hears Stella panting — obviously still caught up in her orgasm — and it sends another jolt straight to her clit.

They stay in content silence, both catching their breath, as Dana brushes fluffy hair off her forehead.

“Wow,” Dana breathes out with a satisfied smile on her face, still lingering in her bliss. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

“No, we haven’t,” Stella chuckles, somewhat mellowed and calm — she’s sated. “I forgot how sexy you sound on the phone when you’re coming.”

Dana blushes, eyes closing as a subtle flush of arousal lingers and makes her pussy clench.

“And I forgot how hot you are when you talk like that, such a dirty mouth,” Dana adds, reveling in the soft, resigning huff she gets in reply.

“Oh, you love it.”

“I do.”

Yes, I fucking do.

Dana yawns, hiding it with the back of her hand but making no attempt to suppress an adorable squeak.

“Are you tired, darling?” Stella asks and Dana hums in contentment at the soft, gentle tone that always comes in the moments when Stella envelops her in a post-coital embrace.

“Yeah, a bit,” She replies honestly, opening her eyes to watch the twinkling of lights. “I should get some sleep. I’m pretty sure Matthew’s going to be busting in her at sunrise to wake me up.”

Stella laughs; so warm and loving, and Dana all but melts at the sound.

“Doesn’t he always? You should at least get a few hours sleep before then,” Stella suggests with a sigh — she sounds tired too. “I wouldn’t want you to be too tired for presents tomorrow.”

“I’ll never be too tired for presents.”

“I’ll ring you first thing in the morning,” Stella promises and Dana can hear more rustling of sheets.

She pictures Stella snuggling down in their bed; naked, soft and looking so breathtakingly beautiful all freshly fucked.

“Maybe we could do a video call? I’m sure mum would love to wish you a Merry Christmas in person. Well, you know what I mean,” Dana giggles as she collects her vibrator to wash later. “And I would love to see you. It wouldn’t be Christmas without you here in some way.”

“That sounds perfect, love.”

“Goodnight, Stel,” Dana whispers, heart heavy with yearning but excited for tomorrow — one day closer to coming home.

“Sweet dreams. I love you, Dana.”

“I love you too.”

After a moment of silence — a hint of reluctance on both parts — they hang up and Dana sighs.

I miss her.

She’s about to get ready for bed when her phone buzzes. Looking down, she sees a text that makes her laugh.

[text message] Stella: I know you’re thinking it, and I miss you too xx Now, go put some clothes on so you don’t frighten your poor nephew in the morning <3

[lilydalexf]

hi! i’m not sure if there’s a list already on your blog, but can you do a historical AUs rec? i’ve read all i could find, but i’m sure there must be some older stories out there

Here are some very good X-Files historical AUs. I hope some are new to you. Enjoy! Au Café Pequod series by @sunflowerseedsandscience Obersoldat Fox Mulder’s childhood has not instilled him with a sense of faith in humanity, and what little he has left has been destroyed by his years in Occupied France. An unwilling conscript in the German army, he is finally jerked out of months of helpless apathy when he comes to the aid of Dana Scully, the half-French, half-American proprietress of a tiny village cafe. The two strike up an unlikely friendship, growing closer as the war drags on. Against the odds, a fledgling romance begins… but Scully, Mulder soon learns, is much more than a simple cafe owner, and the dangerous secret she hides could spell certain death for them both- and, quite possibly, for Scully’s entire village. Being Crazy by Branwell The X-Files are gone and Mulder is lost without them. Scully is trying to keep things together for both of them. In the middle of this crisis Scully receives a plea for help from her brother Bill. She and Mulder must carry out an unauthorized investigation of a crime to save Bill's family. At the same time a memoir falls into Mulder's hands that Scully's sister Melissa believed to be an account of a Scully family member's past life. Mulder's curiosity overcomes his sensible resolve to avoid reading the story of a dark, difficult life that he and Scully supposedly once shared. He doesn't want to believe in the authenticity of the document. Then events in the present go out of control and drive out every other consideration. Black and White and Red by @scapegrace74-blog He just wanted to take photographs, and to discover some glimpse of beauty left in the world. She wanted to find her sister. They said it was a time of safety and prosperity, but that was a colourful re-imagining of the facts as they existed in black and white. Boats Against the Current, part 1, part 2 by Nicole Perry A short story paying homage to F. Scott Fitzgerald by placing Mulder and Scully in a 'Gatsby' universe. / Dana is married to an abusive man and secretly seeing Mulder, the love of her life. By the Dim and Flaring Lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience Captain Fox Mulder, the abolitionist son of a Virginia plantation owner and slaveholder, has turned his back on his family and everything he's ever known in order to fight for the Union, rather than joining the ranks of the Confederacy alongside his fellow Virginians. He runs off to Pennsylvania to join a newly-formed regiment in the spring of 1863, and there, he meets and quickly befriends the enigmatic young Daniel Scully, a private under his command. Private Scully's steady shooting and bravery in battle have proven him to be a far more capable soldier than his age would suggest. But in the days immediately following Gettysburg, Mulder discovers that Private Scully is hiding a secret, one that could change their friendship- and Mulder's entire life- in ways he couldn't possibly imagine. Condemned to Repeat It by Branwell The story is set in fall of 1997 after Redux II and before Detour. Mulder and Scully have been assigned to a "routine" X-File by Skinner. They don't believe it will amount to much, but it proves to be more dangerous than expected. As the case progresses they're reading a manuscript that was found among Melissa Scully's things, at the request of Maggie Scully. Melissa believed it was an account of a past life of someone in the Scully family. It raises personal issues Mulder and Scully are not prepared to face. The Countess by @slippinmickeys A reimagining of the characters from The X-Files in Regency Era London.... a dozen different lives by skuls (@ghostbustermelanieking) Five lives Mulder and Scully shared. (prompt: the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives) A Familiar Heart by Mish "The Best Years of our Lives" meets "Magnificent Obsession", Mulder and Scully style. (There's also an unfinished sequel: An Unchanged Soul) Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms The King is dead. Long Live the Queen. Hiraeth by Prufrock's Love Aber, North Wales, 1215. In a world of dangerous men, she was a dangerous woman to love. Moment at the End of the World by Dianora Mulder and Scully meet on the brink of the Civil War. A Moment in the Sun by Prufrock's Love Autumn in New York, 1953. A legendary baseball player past his prime and a beautiful woman with a secret. A Notorious Affair by Nicole Perry Mulder and Scully in Hitchcock’s movie ‘Notorious’. Paracelsus by Prufrock's Love Georgia low country, summer, 1865. A lost soldier, a bend in the road, a passing stranger, and a chance at a life never meant to be. The Second Side of Light by @scapegrace74-blog In 1845, circumstances throw Fox Mulder and Dana Scully together as they cross the Oregon Trail. Untitled AU by @frangipanidownunder Weird little five para AU set somewhere in Wales in some unspecified medieval time Untitled AU by @scapegrace74-blog Royalty AU

[wickedhawtwexler]

i was tagged by @commanderogerss <3

name/nickname: morgan or moe

gender: cis lady

star sign: aquarius sun + moon and cancer rising. dunno what this means beyond "girl is kinda weird"

height: 5'3"

time: 8:37pm

birthday: january 21st

fav band: paramore is my #1 band forever, i also love abba, electric light orchestra, and bear's den

fav solo artist: hozier, city and colour, and dermot kennedy

song stuck in my head: i've had the sopranos theme in my head since that whole banjolele conversation yesterday lmao

last movie: across the universe (2007)

last show: the x-files

when i created this blog: 2009 buuuut i wasn't super active until like late 2010 / early 2011

what i post: mostly just tv shows i like and art i think is cool!

last thing i googled: "30 minute timer" i was doing my own writing sprint for camp nanowrimo lol

other blogs: i have a writing blog @writeous and a nyc blog @myfuturehomenewyork which has literally 7k followers despite the fact i rarely post lmao

do i get asks: sometimes! not super often

following: 390 but there are definitely a ton of inactive blogs i've gotta go thru and unfollow

why i chose my URL: i just think cosima niehaus and dana scully are neat

lucky number: 6 and 21

followers: 1573 but again. tons of these blogs are inactive because i have been here ~*~ literally forever ~*~

average hours of sleep: about 8

instruments: piano, guitar, bass guitar, banjo, ukulele, and i also can play trumpet & trombone but i live in an apartment complex so my skills are more theoretical at this point

what am i wearing: cute lil pink sleep shorts and a sweatshirt that says "me? wrong? never"

dream job: unrealistic dream: novelist and singer-songerwiter. realistic dream: data scientist/visualization programmer who works 45 hrs or less a week and has lots of time for writing and music

fav food: sandwiches. any kind. i am very passionate about bread.

nationality: 'murican. ethnicity-wise i'm mostly german with some dutch, polish, and british/irish

fav song: my fave song of all time is careful by paramore, but my current fave is that's all by genesis

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: the sims 2 (i would like to own a cowplant), scott pilgrim vs. the world (i think it'd be neat to have video game graphics pop up when i do things), and the princess bride (no real reason, just vibes)

iiiii am gonna tag @fleabog @sunflwrseeds-scully @ivydecoherent @captain-mayabishop @falling-forever-in-a-hole @poolsidescientist (if y'all want to obviously!!!) and if anyone else wants to do this we can pretend i tagged you too <3

[princesses-and-bitchcraft]

5, 6, 31, 42?

5. how would you describe your personal style?

Oh man what a BRILLIANT question I sure wish I had a solid answer 🤷🤷 right now I'm wearing a cactus shift dress and some queer ass boots, if that helps?

For serious though, I love a LOT of different things and if I had infinite money I would probably have to have like. Multiple HOUSES just to have enough rooms to satisfy my clashing interior design sensibilités and enough closets for each style I'm into. I can't go by what I wear day to day because there is a pandemic and the only place I go is work which means dark jeans and a sweatshirt. I used to wear a lot of sweet lolita, I've been really into more gothy and punky stuff since I was old enough to even have an opinion, but I guess just generally I love stuff that nobody else is wearing???? 🤷🤷🤷 Though I have also recently been entering what I lovingly seem my "slut phase" whereby I wear a lot of crop tops with no sleeves (but paired with fun flowy skirts usually), except the only place I'm going dressed like that is my balcony lol

6. describe your gender identity with nongendered words:

Wow another doozy!!!! I've often been known to describe it as "no thank you". I really adore those posts that are like "my gender is malicious compliance" "my gender is l Being A Problem" etc etc. Me too babes me too. My gender is Dana Scully in an insane oversized nineties windbreaker. My gender is Fox Mulder, generally. My gender is jellyfish. My gender is the 8th Doctor. My gender is both David Tennant and Catherine Tate in much Ado about nothing. I'm having fun with this but I should probably move on.

31. do you collect anything?

Depends on your definition of "collect", possibly, but I guess I'd say I collect Buffy paraphernalia: comics, novels, merch more generally, etc.

42. what do you think is the best room color?

I haven't had to think about this question in a loooooooong time. But I think I like purples and/or greens for room colours. And also generally? They are my favourites generally I think. But I think lighter or brighter greens would he really good room colours, and also kind of. Deep but not dark? Purples. And also pastely purples.

[volahre]

babe for the weekend - chapter 4

read on ao3 | 1805 words | rated Teen and up audiences for later chapters | Fox Mulder/Dana Scully | Weddings | set in late season 6 | UST | eventual resolved romantic tension

When an old friend from high school invites her to her wedding and she brings Mulder along as her plus one, Scully reflects on her life, her place in the world, how much she has changed and what she really wants.

I originally started this to explore the topic of growing up, aging and feeling like you are missing out within the character of Dana Scully, but it has become so much more than that - but read for yourself!

chapter four

Between the vineyards lay a small cottage with a large meadow which Dorothy and Robert had chosen to be the location for their celebration. The ceremony had gone smoothly, a teenage girl who turned out to be not only Robert’s niece but also a piano virtuoso contributed to the celebratory atmosphere with pieces by Handel and Bach.

“Champagne, juice, or mixed?”, one of the waitresses asked Scully once she had gotten up from her chair and straightened her dress. Smiling, she thanked the waitress and took one of the champagne glasses while waiting for Mulder to follow her. “To the newlyweds?” she asked once they stood facing each other. “And to love”, Mulder answered, looking straight into her eyes with an expression she could not quite read. It was new, something she had only seen appearing on his face recently.

“And how do you know Dorothy and Robert?”, an old familiar voice appeared behind Scully as she was waiting for the buffet. She turned around and saw Marcus speaking to Mulder. Great. She took a deep breath. “He’s with me”, she said and put on a smile, looking at the face of the man she once, though much younger, more inexperienced, and certainly more naïve had called the love of her life.

“Oh, Dana!” Marcus laughed. “It’s good to see you”.

She kept on the smile. “It’s good to see you too.” This really was strange, to say the least. What was she even supposed to say? Gesturing behind Marcus, she cleared her throat. “Have you…come here with anybody?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, a particular glow appeared on his face. “Wife and two kids, they’re waiting at our table. I can introduce you later if you want”.

She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find each other again.”

“But tell me about your company, Dana”, Marcus said before looking at Mulder. “Marcus Watson”

Mulder took Marcus’ extended hand. “Fox Mulder. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Fox”, Marcus said. “I see you guys are not married yet?”

“No!”, Scully said, way too abruptly. Trying to conceal it with a laugh, she continued, ignoring the look Mulder gave her. “No, we’re not married.”

“I see”, Marcus smiled. “Where did you guys meet, if I may ask?”

“Oh, we met- “, Mulder started, but Scully interrupted him. “We work together at the FBI”.

“The FBI?”, Marcus appeared a little startled. “Last time I checked, I heard you went off to med school.”

Scully let out a small sigh. “I did, but I ended up in forensic science. But he,” she gestured at Mulder, “has a degree in psychology. Didn’t you do that too, Marcus? How’s it going with that?”

“Well, it’s going amazing, if you ask me! Got myself a practice set up and together with a few colleagues we’re focusing on dysfunctional families. But you, FBI, huh?”, Marcus looked at Mulder, who shrugged with one hand in his pocket.

“Well, I just hope I can help people find closure. And some minds are hard to get into, frankly. And sometimes it’s not even the minds as much as something greater than what could be limited to just one person.”

Scully looked at Mulder, surprised he had not brought up the specifics of what they did. “Mulder and I, we work together on a division called the X-Files.”, she said. “Cases that have been deemed unsolvable.”

“And you solve them?”, Marcus asked.

“Well, I’d like to think so”, Scully said, looking at the floor.

“Often times it’s about perspective,” Mulder said. “Some might appear unsolvable if you look at them from a traditional standpoint, but I like to think that if you go a little outside the box and look at them with an open mind you might actually find out the truth.”

“Ah, I get you, buddy”, Marcus said. “I have to deal with some real monsters as well, if you know what I mean!”, he laughed.

Scully frowned as Mulder laughed, though appearing highly uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose that’s different…”

“Come on, Mulder.”, she said, pulling him by his arm. “Buffet’s ready.”

They were seated across from each other at the end of a table full of people she didn’t know, which didn’t bother her much as she hoped it would spare her of more awkward conversations.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he would be like this”, Scully said later as they were eating their dessert.

“Hey it’s fine, Scully”, he said, grinning. “Sometimes your adolescent crushes grow up to become real monsters”.

She chuckled at his attempt to imitate Marcus. “Shut up, Mulder.”

“No”, he said, causing her to throw a confusing grin at him.

“You’ve got pudding on your face, wait”, he grabbed his napkin, and before she could say anything, he leaned over the table and carefully cleaned up the edge of her mouth. Remembering that she had to breathe, she took in a sharp inhale and felt a blush appearing on her face again. In the spot where his fingers had almost touched her, so close to her mouth, she felt a slight tingle.

“Thank you”, she said, hoping he would not question her blushing after him touching her. He had been invading her personal space for years and she had gotten away with barely blushing at most. So why was this happening now?

“I need to get some air”, she said quietly after finishing her dessert and got up, grabbing her purse.

“You okay?”, Mulder had gotten up almost as fast, his eyes filled with concern as they found hers.

“Yeah, I just need to get away from all the people for a bit”, she said, quickly looking away.

Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she walked down the little street that had led them to the location. After about two minutes, she found a bench with a view overlooking the hills. If she stayed for a few hours, she might be able to watch the sun go down from here, judging by the way it stood now.

Taking a deep breath, she took off her shoes and relaxed her back against the wood. The whole idea seemed like a mistake. Coming here after years of barely keeping in contact and therefore not knowing how to talk to anybody, bringing Mulder and putting him in an even more awkward situation than hers, it was like she had wanted to please people but had ended up just being selfish. Selfish, Dana. Her entire life, her entire career she had tried not to be selfish, always acted in the favour of others. But now her feelings, her fear had gotten in the way. Selfish.

She worried about Mulder. What was she even going to tell him? Sorry I’m behaving so weirdly; I just saw a guy I had a crush on almost 20 years ago and it made me realize that – but what had it made her realize? She had not come to any conclusion as to why the situation had felt so incredibly awkward, not just because of Marcus, but because of the combination of Marcus and Mulder. Apart from….no, definitely not. And this was certainly the worst place to consider the matters of her own heart. This was a celebration of love, but not hers.

Love. She recalled that moment in the hospital a few months earlier, when they were working in interior terrorism and Mulder had gone on a reckless spree diving right into the Atlantic Ocean, ending up drugged and exhausted. He had told her he loved her then, and she had brushed it off as a side effect of the drugs. But later, on her way home, she had recalled the moment with a particular sting in her stomach.

“Here you are”.

She looked up and saw the man in question standing there, his eyes – what colour were they now? – glistening in the light of the warm Californian sun.

“Oh hey”, she said quietly.

“The seat next to you taken?”, he said in his usual sarcastic tone but she couldn’t help noticing that there was also an obvious softness to his voice.

She chuckled. “Sit down if you want to,” she said, taking her purse so he had the space to sit.

“You wanna talk?”, he asked once he had sat down, putting his arm across the backrest behind her.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s just all so much…so much more than I expected. All the old feelings that never really went anywhere, so much left unresolved, washed out by years of growing apart.”

He nodded, that unreadable expression on his face again. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but do you still like him?”

“No!”, she said just as quickly as she had earlier, almost as if she was speaking out of reflex. She despised herself. “No”, she said again, with a slight smile. “I think we really have grown into two completely different people with completely different lives. Plus, he seems happily married and has kids”, she sighed, realizing that this was another aspect in which she could never be quite like those people.

“Hey, shhh, it’s alright,” Mulder said, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder in small motions. As if her brain didn’t already feel like it had melted all sense of rational thought away, the electric signals he was sending through her body with his touch was doing the rest. Slowly, she leaned into his embrace and looked up at him. “I’m so sorry, Mulder.”

“For what?”, he said quietly. His arm had followed her and was now gently stroking her upper arm.

“For making you go through this crap”, she laughed. “You don’t know anybody, which arguably puts you in an even more awkward situation than me, and now I’m running away, and it just feels like I am making this whole thing about myself.”

“Now I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Scully,” he said, “you are not making this about yourself. In fact, I don’t think that many people even noticed you leaving. And even if they did, they probably think you just got a phone call or something. And hey,” he continued after a little pause, “I really don’t mind being here with you. Trust me. I’d rather do this with you than have you go through this on your own.”

“Mulder” she said and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I hope I can take this as a compliment?”, he said, and she could feel him smile against her hair.

“Anyways, what I wanted to say…” he continued, “Weddings don’t have to be perfect, Scully, and it’s okay if you need some air sometimes. But as I was leaving, they were setting up the dancefloor, so I thought I’d let you know.”

She sat up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

[will-on-the-internet]

Congrats on 500 followers!

💡 for The X-Files, any character

Thank you my love! Now, I can only think of 5 because it’s 12:10am here, and I’m tired, but I wanted to get this done because you sent this in a while ago! Here you are!

Headcanons for Dana Scully

After 12 pm, the only thing she’ll want to drink is herbal tea. She doesn’t want more caffeine, or something sweet that’ll bring on a headache. She just wants to relax with her tea. The only time she’ll consume drinks with caffeine after 12 is if she knows she’s going to be working through the night, on a watch or doing a late autopsy. 

She sleeps with socks on in the winter, ones that are thick and remind her of cozy nights and long car rides with Mulder. 

As much as she tries to avoid it, she always ends up breaking the spine of whatever book she’s reading at the moment. She also has a bad habit of never using a bookmark when she’s on the move, but she’ll write down the page number somewhere so that she doesn’t end up dog-earing the book.

She owns lots of loungewear sets for when she has a weekend home. They’re comfy and in plain but nice colours, and they make her feel relaxed, cosy and safe in her apartment while she’s reading about a new crime or one of her forensic journals.

Further on in the job, I feel like she wouldn’t like being home with no noise, if that makes sense? I feel like she would have some music playing, or the tv on with the volume soft. Especially after Mulder’s gone missing and she misses that feeling of sharing a space with someone she loves!

[dreamingofscully]

5x12. “Bad Blood” - X-Files Rewatch

This post is going to be a bit different than all the others. Because Bad Blood is just so special. Above pictures are (some of) the funniest contrasts in the stories told by Scully (left) and Mulder (right). I’ll include others in my summary below the cut!

"That's not the way it happened at all. I mean, what are you afraid of? That if you tell it the way it really happened, that you'll look like an idiot, like me?" - Mulder, to Scully

Here's some opinion as opposed to observation. Bad Blood is maybe the best episode. It is just so brilliant. It's fantastic to see the story from both Mulder and Scully's perspectives, and see them in a more humorous and exaggerated light. They are both inaccurate in their own ways, but I think overall Scully's side is probably more correct, Mulder's being coloured by wanting to exaggerate his side because he loves LOVES trolling Scully and he's a bit miffed at her inaccuracies.

The teaser has to be the absolute best of the whole show. Well, except for all things.

Their facial expressions this entire episode. 

Mulder kicking the garbage can. XD I love love LOVE this. Throughout the whole show you see him lashing out with physical violence when he's frustrated, and you see it manifested in such a light-hearted manner here.

"I didn't do the ... (She makes a stabbing motion) with the thing."

Gillian covering her face trying not to laugh. Do we have bad blood bloopers? I'm sure they are wonderous.

***

SCULLY’S VERSION

"C'mon Scully, get those little legs moving."

Mulder admiring the dead guy's clothes. He's so innappropriate haha.

Leaning close over the dead body.

Mulder's jealousy over Scully's flirtation with the Sheriff.

"Dana" LOL

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What am I even looking for?" - Scully (Mulder puts his hands on her shoulders.) "I don't know." - Mulder

Some Sheriff Hartwell flirtation analysis/relationship analysis

Scully enjoying attention from an attractive guy. We saw in Chinga, trying to get Mulder to react to her subtle hints of giving a gift to a "guy". He didn't take the hint. I'm SURE she's exaggerating her attraction in the story to make Mulder jealous. Also possibly still pissed at him, wanting to get a reaction out of him. A meaningless fling would take some of her pain away, perhaps, because he doesn't really matter to her - there are no emotions beyond lust. She enjoys being desired, as would any woman. Pursuing something with Mulder is dangerous because of how strong her feelings are. After Emily - she's hesitant to risk anything, to take any chances emotionally, because of how much pain it caused her to love someone only to lose them so shortly afterwards.

During Mulder's tale, he tells Scully "Never say I never did nothin' for ya", giving her some alone time with the Sheriff. indicating he's still not thinking he and Scully could ever be together. He thinks she deserves a normal guy, or at least someone who isn't him.

I love the autopsy scenes. Scully talking about stomach contents like it sounds delicious, then ordering the same thing later. Scully is WEIRD you guys, and I love it. Someone like this just ... doesn't stop being weird. Doesn't change specialties so drastically. She LOVES this shit you guys.

"I just put money in the magic fingers!"

Jumping on the bed with her and laughing evilly. Poor Scully.

When Scully figures out the pizza was laced, her concerned gasp and "Mulder!"

Doctoring him in the room, touching his face when he's lying on the floor.

"Shaft!" LOL

Standing close when they argue about her version.

*** MULDER’S VERSION

Scully's look making Mulder feel like a moron. He's so nice and concilliatory in his version, haha.

"Well, it's obviously not a vampire." - Scully "Well, why not?" - Mulder "Because they don't exist?" - Scully

“Hoo boy.” - Scully, at Sheriff Hartwell

Mulder giving the Sheriff buck teeth.  😆 Jealous much?

Prattling off knowledge about the history of vampires. He knows how to stretch out a tale - keeps delaying telling Scully about the meaning of the shoelaces.

Scully's "Why skip ahead? What happened then? (silence) Mulder? You shot out the tires, and what then?" XD Mulder (AND the Sheriff) can't shoot, which is where the trope comes from perhaps? Contrast with Scully's incredible marksmanship from the previous episode.

Mulder's puppy dog eyes when he comes to Scully's room all muddy.

"What do you mean you want me to do another autopsy?! And why do I have to do it right now?! I just spent hours on my feet doing an autopsy, all for you. I do it all for you, Mulder. You know, I haven't eaten since 6:00 this morning, and all that was, was a half a cream cheese bagel, and it wasn't even real cream cheese, it was light cream cheese. And now you want me to run off and do another autopsy? What the hell happened to you?"

"Finally you left" ouch. 😥 Mulder's pretty bitter about the Sheriff so he's definitely making Scully look worse than she is. TBF Scully made Mulder look pretty random and nonsensical in hers.

Mulder using Scully's room/bathroom. In his tanktop + boxers. *heart eyes* Also, they agree on pizza toppings. IT'S MEANT TO BE!!!

Concedes that he ate her dinner. 😆

Her "Creep" in Mulder's version of the phone call Scully got at the morgue, haha.

*** AFTER THEIR STORIES

Walking close in the cemetery. Putting his arm around her neck when giving her the alone time with the Sheriff.

Drugged Scully.

Mulder riding the coffin.

Examining her neck at the end. Where des he put his hands after that??

"That is ... essentially, exactly the way it happened." - Mulder "Essentially." - Scully

The ending with Skinner must be EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY FINISH A CASE. Which makes it funnier.  😆

[worshiptherain]

not to get all: agent mulder, i’m dana scully, i’ve been assigned to work with you / oh really? i was under the impression that you were sent to spy on me / goodnight mulder / goodnight scully / mulder, i wouldn’t put myself on the line for anyone but you / if there’s an iced tea in that bag, could be love / must be fate, mulder / i trust him as much as anyone, i trust him with my life / even if i knew for certain, i wouldn’t change a day / you’re my one in five billion / scully? / yes? / marry me / you kept me honest, you made me a whole person - i owe you everything scully, and you owe me nothing / scully, i love you / maybe i did want to be out there with you, mulder / even when the world was falling apart you were my constant, my touchstone / and you were mine / he’s got your colouring in his eyes / i just missed the both of you so much / it’s what made me follow you, and why i’d do it all over again / mulder you think i don’t understand but i do. this stubbornness of yours, it’s why i fell in love with you

but does anyone love anyone else more than dana katherine scully and her alien boyfriend “not fox, mulder” loved each other ??

[leiascully]

5 Conversations Between Maggie and Mulder

By @agirlcalledNarelle - I think Maggie and Mulder had a complicated relationship. Here’s my take on a few shared moments between them….

4,7k words. Here on AO3. 

1. 1995

The Glasgow room, otherwise known as events room B, is empty and cavernous when he arrives. Sound bounces off the walls from the other early guests and is presented back to them in an awkward offering.  Helium balloons dance timidly from their weights along the outskirt of the room. Mulder slinks in like a cat and nurses a beer as he watches the room fill. He did not go to the graveyard.

Thankfully the event grows into the space, and the hum of conversation encourages more of the same. There is laughter. Recent friends wear brightly coloured outfits, paisley shirts and ethereal skirts. The family wear black, but wicked humour sparkles through their sad smiles. Scully and Maggie arrive, accompanied by a smattering of aunts, uncles, cousins. It’s strange to see Scully with a support network which excludes him. He doesn’t feel like he can approach her; he will wait for her. They make eye contact briefly, and she moves towards him before being intercepted by someone. Maggie smiles as she speaks, but he sees her glance frequently around the room for her remaining daughter as if proving to herself that she is still here, that she hasn’t lost Dana too. 

There is never enough food at events like this. Out of some misguided sense of chivalry which no one witnesses, he is late to the buffet and picks at the remaining trays. Having made small talk with some cousins from Wisconsin, he sits furtively at a table for two, hoping his vibes deter anyone from making any further effort.

‘Fox.’ He looks up, mid-room temperature shrimp half-way to his mouth, to see Maggie standing at his elbow with Scully behind her. Mulder can see foundation gathering in the creases around her eyes. Her cheeks have has sunk, no longer blooming from happy memories. Mulder stands and wipes his mouth on a napkin.

‘Mrs Scully,’ he kisses Maggie on the cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry about Melissa.’

‘Thank you.’ Her eyes are shiny pebbles from the bottom of a stream, clear and hard. Mulder gulps, his mouth dry, and wipes his hands on his napkin, frustrated he has nothing of value to offer when she suddenly speaks, low and forcefully. ‘Tell me, Fox. Was it worth it? Was what you found worth it?’

‘Come on, Mom, let’s go say hi to the Denman’s. I see them over there.’ Scully puts her hand on her mother’s arm and pushes her gently away. He watches them, relieved to avoid further interrogation, and considers making a quiet exit when Scully turns and mouths ‘don’t go.’ Damn. Suddenly no longer hungry, he pushes his plate to the opposite place setting and waits. He watches.

Scully and Maggie work the room, sometimes together, sometimes apart. They are the only members of the immediate Scully family representing Melissa to her mourners. The extended family, comprising of short women and tall men, make sure that Scully’s wine glass never fully empties. Maggie favours brandy. She remembers the names of Melissa’s childhood friends and greets her adult friends with generous hugs. Laughter abounds as family reacquaints and friends rediscover commonalities.  Each table hosts a framed photo of Melissa, and on this table, there is a photo of the Scully children in front of a big fish that Bill Junior has caught. Melissa is tall, beautiful with early-teen self-consciousness, smiling without teeth. Dana is at least 6 inches smaller, her face chubby and framed with bangs, and excitedly pointing at the fish with her two index fingers, her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’.

The sun takes polite grief with it as it sets, and the mood of the room shifts towards a more frantic, unrestrained celebration. Ties are loosened, music starts to play, and voices grow louder as the guests realise their hours for remembering Melissa together will soon draw to a close. Scully sits opposite him, pushing aside the remaining plate of food. Her eyes are glassy, her cheeks pink. A tissue peeks out of her cardigan sleeve, and her mascara is slightly smudged under her left eye. She smiles languidly and rests her chin in her hand. They hear Maggie laugh across the room with the cousins from Wisconsin. They are both taller than her, and one wraps her into a bear hug. She has the effusiveness of a dinner party host, eager to inform everyone where the food is and to help themselves to drinks. In the gap between conversation, Mulder sees Maggie staring into the middle distance, steeling herself to share the next anecdote.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Mulder remarks.

‘This is the fun part,’ Scully says, her s’s slightly stretched. ‘Remembering Missy with all her favourite people. And some of her not-so-favourite people.’ They watch Maggie take another brandy from the waitress. ‘She’ll crash later once we’re in the cab. I’m staying with her tonight.’

‘Can I take you both home?’ Mulder asks, suddenly wanting to do at least this for Scully and her mother.

‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary, Mulder.’

‘Please, I’d like to.

Scully appraises him, draining her wine. ‘She’s not herself today, you know. Don’t give it another thought.’

No apology, Mulder notes.

‘I know. She was right to ask. She has the right to ask, I mean. She should ask.’

‘She does. She should.’ Scully gazes lovingly at her mom, eyes misting with tears before someone else catches her eye, causing her to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl. ‘Oh no. Missy would be devastated to know that Sam Charleston is here. She had the biggest crush on him when she started her first job, and he kept her well and truly in the friend zone.’

‘Go say hi. Go mingle.’

She leans on her knuckles to steady herself as she stands. ‘If that offer is still open…. That would be nice. We would love a lift back.’

‘Of course.’

‘Oh, and Mulder,’ she says as she starts to totter away. ‘We’re Irish. This is going to be a late one.’

‘I’ll be here.’

2. 1997

Mulder wakes to the shadow of someone standing over him. Blinking, his back burns as he sits up in his plastic chair.

‘Go home, Fox,’ Maggie says. ‘You should get some rest. In a proper bed.’

Her eyes are bright, too wide, like a child who has eaten all their Halloween candy in one sitting, twitchy and hyper. The hall is quiet, the bustle of the day replaced with a cloak of calm inevitability as some patients gather their strength for another day, and some succumb to the everlasting sleep which floats through these rooms like a genie, offering to grant the most desperate wishes.

‘Uh, I can’t seem to leave.’ He rubs his neck. ‘Is Scully ok?’

‘She’s just fallen asleep.’ Maggie sits beside him. She rubs her hands over her face and reaches for his hand. It’s an intimate move, but a hospital at 3am is an intimate, almost holy place and those who witness it are bound by their understanding of this. He covers her hand with his, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Maggie, Bill and Mulder haven’t slept properly in days; Scully sleeps too much for all of them. She can’t smell, can’t taste, doesn’t eat. Her headaches are sudden and vicious, the only respite being ever-stronger painkillers and sleep. Suddenly her teeth start to grind. She loses track of conversation, eyes, fingers and face all clenched, and Mulder presses her painkiller button in frustration that this is all he can do. All the road signs are pointing towards morphine. No one mentions it explicitly, knowing it will likely be the last landmark for Scully.

‘Where’s Bill?’

‘He’s gone back. To pick up some clothes, pick up my copy of Little Women for Dana.’ Maggie rests her head against the wall and closes her eyes. ‘When she’s awake I’m worried that she’s not getting enough rest, and when she’s asleep I just want to wake her. It’s like she’s 2 weeks old all over again.’

Mulder stays quiet.

‘She’s stopped arguing with me, have you noticed? She doesn’t have the energy. I just want to see her eyes flash at me again, I want that ‘here we go again’ feeling one more time. I’m trying to remember the last time we did that. I’m trying to remember.’

‘Mrs Scully, you can’t give up hope, not yet.’ Mulder teeters of the edge of acceptance but hasn’t fallen into that hole just yet: its depth is too deep, too dark, and he’s not sure he would recognise the man who comes out the other side. He needs his anger to stay on track for Scully, to keep going, and more importantly in this moment now, to stay awake.

‘Fox, I haven’t given up hope, far from it,’ Maggie’s voice is tired and resigned. ‘But you can’t deny what we’re seeing. We can’t expect things from Dana that she can’t give us. Then it’s not fair on her.’

Mulder feels this new perspective like a splash of cold water on his face. He hadn’t considered the impact of his unending fight on Scully. Did she feel like she had to perform for him? Did she gather her strength every time he entered the room to protect him from what was happening, to allow him his little charade? Does the energy needed for his visits mean more frequent headaches, more pain? His shoulders slump further as more guilt settles across them.

Maggie’s head suddenly brushes his shoulder, and she looks up in surprise, blinking. A microsleep.

‘Mrs Scully, you should take your own advice.’ He squeezes her hand where it still rests in his. ‘Get some proper rest.’

Maggie shakes her head. ‘There’s the meeting with Dana’s doctor first thing. And then the Priest is stopping by.’

The meeting is to learn the consultant recommendation after examining the chip that Mulder had offered him like frankincense. They had scanned it, taken photos, made notes, but the chip itself remained in Mulder’s pocket at his insistence.

‘I hope you know I respect the work of the priest.’ Mulder clears his throat, not sure of his next words. ‘I’m not exactly what you’d call a good disciple, but I’m willing to try anything at this point. And I know what it means to Dana.’

‘I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of this chip, Fox. But you’ve earned the right to an opinion here. And anyway, Dana will do what she thinks is best: she won’t have anyone else make this choice for her.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know that … I just want to make sure we’ve tried everything.’

Maggie stands and puts a hand to his cheek, her hand soft against his stubble. It’s a move he’s done to Scully before, but he had underestimated how much comfort it brings. He wants to nuzzle into her hand, to close his eyes and rest in the warmth.

‘I know you love her, Fox. You love her as she deserves to be loved. I do wish you might show it with roses instead of computer chips,’ she smiles ruefully. ‘But there aren’t words to convey how grateful I’ve been to see your love for my daughter over these past few weeks.’

He watches her go back into Scully’s dark room. They both wait, in different rooms, for the sun to rise on the day when Scully’s holy trinity of faith, family and work will entwine around her like the roots of a tree in a final attempt to nourish her back to health.

3. 1998

It is still dark when they pull up outside the house, but someone has clocked their arrival and the front door flings open. Maggie waves, wrapping her cardigan around her, and gestures inwards.

‘You have to come in now, you realise,’ Scully says as she unbuckles her belt.

‘Oh, no, Scully, I don’t want to do that. You be with your family. It’s 6:30am.’

‘Come on, you’ll offend her. You don’t want to offend my mother on Christmas morning, do you Mulder?’ Scully teases. ‘Or do you? Is that what you want?’

He sighs and walks with her towards the house. Modest fairy lights twinkle on the porch, and the Christmas tree glows from the front window. Mulder can see tasteful, coordinated ornaments and the outline of people in the front room. Already the Scully Christmas is in stark contrast to Christmas at his mother’s house: a quiet affair with two lonely presents under a tree that never seems to stand straight, decorated with all Fox and Samantha’s homemade decorations from over the years. A roast chicken that would invariably burn as Teena became engrossed in a Christmas movie and Mulder slept on the couch. They would end the day with a quiet game of Scrabble. He feels a protective pang in his chest: it’s not much of a Christmas, but it’s their Christmas. Teena is never outwardly demonstrative, but he knows he is loved. She has saved all his crafts, every homemade Mother’s Day and Christmas card. I’ll call her later, he promises to himself as he walks to the porch, swallowing the bitter taste of treachery as he crosses another mother’s threshold on Christmas morning.

‘Come in, come in! Merry Christmas!’ Maggie exclaims as they stamp the snow from their shoes. They are her first gifts of the day as she unwraps their coats and scarves. ‘Fox, what an unexpected surprise.’

‘Uh, Scully’s car didn’t start, so I gave her a lift,’ he said lamely, hoping the explanation doesn’t lead to more questions.

‘Well, you can at least stay for breakfast.’ She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He is uncomfortable, unused to meeting Maggie outside of a crisis. He doesn’t have anything to offer her, not even a Christmas card, and he almost regrets offering Scully a lift this morning. He had been high on infatuation, waking after their late-night ghost hunt to find Scully snuffling under the covers next to him like a grumpy guinea pig, her scruffy red hair poking out from under the covers.

‘Thank you, Mrs Scully, that would be great. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.’

‘Please, Fox, it’s a last-minute invite. It’s enough that you’re here.’ Mulder smiles, and sends a thought remembering his mother at the Vineyard on her own. It might be called a prayer, if he was a man of any sort of religious faith.

‘Sorry we’re late, Mom.’

‘Don’t be silly, Dana, I don’t know why we have to meet at such an ungodly time anyway.’ She ushers them into the living room. Bill sits in front of the tree wearing a Santa hat, his son perched in his lap lifting and shaking any gift in his proximity. Scully hugs her sister-in-law affectionately, and Mulder notes that something has thawed between them since San Diego.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Bill asks in surprise, quickly removing his Santa hat.

‘Hush now, Bill,’ Maggie says easily, entering with a tray of mugs and a cafetière full of coffee. ‘It’s too early to be so contrary.’

‘I just think it’s odd that her work colleague is in our living room at 6:30am.‘

‘Bill, please. Fox is Dana’s partner, and they get to decide the context of that. Not us.’

Mulder glances at Scully. He’s not sure what Maggie has just insinuated, or what Scully has been saying to make Maggie to make her think that way. They’re still walking this path cautiously, and yet Mulder feels like Maggie has just confirmed something fundamental that neither had fully acknowledged yet.  Scully reflects his surprise, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her brother.

‘Admit it, Bill,’ Scully says, ‘you’re just embarrassed that Mulder’s seen you in your jimmy jams.’

There is a pause in the room before Bill spreads his hands and laughs.

‘Guilty. Grab a seat, Mulder, let’s see if there’s a lump of coal under here somewhere for you.’ Scully squeezes his arm in solidarity. Mulder sees the steel under Bill’s smile and nods, accepting the tentative olive branch.

‘Excellent.’ Maggie sits beside the tree and pulls Matthew onto her lap, who desperately reaches towards the tree. ‘My grandson has been patient enough. Now that we’re all here, and caffeinated, how about we open some presents?’

4. 2001

Mulder stares through the nursery glass at the eight babies wriggling in their little beds. It’s like a very small and very strange zoo exhibition. I’m sorry guys, he thinks, visiting hours have just started for you. His baby is back row left, wearing a blue hat and sleeping with his mouth slightly open, oblivious to all the motion and emotion surrounding him.

Scully needed stitches. The doctors were not happy with her delivery in general, and Mulder felt them glance suspiciously in his direction when he wasn’t looking. They had also given Scully a sedative: she had been shaking with shock and exhaustion, having had no sleep during the 16 hours since the delivery. In the helicopter she had gripped her son with a haunted look in her eyes, only reluctantly handing him to the nurse when the desire to have him checked over outweighed her instinct to hold tight. Go with him, she’d begged, the force of his hand squashing his fingers, don’t leave him alone. Make sure he’s ok. Please, Mulder. He’d wanted to stay until she slept, but his continued presence only made her more anxious. He had left her, weak and weepy with her legs in stirrups, as exposed and vulnerable as a person could find themselves. The nurse had offered to bring the baby to Mulder to hold, but without Scully it feels like a betrayal somehow. He is satisfied just peering through the window, admiring his perfect lips and nose.

‘Fox,’ he turns to see Maggie standing at his shoulder. Her face is tight, her clenched teeth barely restraining her anger. His stomach drops as he feels himself ride over the crest of a rollercoaster.

‘Mrs Scully. Did you just arrive?’

‘I tried to visit Dana but they said she’s sleeping.’ Maggie has yet to put her overnight bag down, her knuckles white as she grips the handles. ‘Do you mind telling me what happened? How my daughter got to Georgia?’

‘Scully, uh, she was in danger and so we thought it safest if she left DC.’ Maggie purses her lips. Mulder’s palms are sweaty. What had made perfect sense at the time was now sounding reckless and stupid.

‘I see. And why Georgia?’

‘We needed somewhere unexpected, somewhere that no one would know.’

‘How exactly did she get here?’

‘One of her colleagues drove her. Special Agent Reyes, you may have met her, she’s been working with Scully for the last, well really for the last 6 months now.’ Mulder felt with each answer Maggie was coiling tighter and tighter, preparing to strike.  ‘Scully likes her, trusts her, so it seemed like the best choice.’

‘I see. Where were you?’

‘I was trying to make sure that the people who were trying to get Scully didn’t. Couldn’t.

‘And did you succeed?’

‘No, no I didn’t. But they didn’t get her, thank god.’

‘You didn’t succeed,’ Maggie says, shaking her head slowly. ‘You sent my little girl to some abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, with no electricity, running water, or even any antibacterial spray, to give birth on her own with only a colleague she’s known for 6 months for support. Is any of this inaccurate?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Mulder’s voice is quiet in contrast to Maggie’s increasing volume.

‘Do you mind telling me what on earth you were thinking?’ Maggie finally shouts, throwing her jacket at him. He catches it clumsily. ‘How could you do this, Fox? In what possible way was this the best solution?’

The tiredness, anxiety and fear which Mulder had been suppressing for the last 72 hours bursts forth, and he is suddenly possessed by rage.

‘Excuse me, Maggie, can I call you Maggie? I think it’s about time, don’t you?’ His voice is quiet but violent. Maggie blinks in surprise and takes a step back. ‘This is my son we’re talking about here. My –‘ he falters as he thinks of Scully in the third room down the corridor, sleeping while her injuries are stitched. His chest hurts with the ferocity of his love for her. ‘This is my whole world. I didn’t just send them away for a jaunt down South. It wasn’t for the fun of it. If we hadn’t have sent them away, in all likelihood we wouldn’t have either of them right now.’

Maggie presses her fingers to her lips as tears slide down her cheeks. Mulder immediately hates himself for shouting at her, she who has already lost so much as a result of Scully’s dogged insistence to stay by his side. He too blinks away tears as he realises what is about to happen next: Scully isn’t going to see her mother meet her grandchild, Scully’s miracle son. She will miss their introduction.

‘I daresay you’re right,’ Maggie mutters. ‘Everything you’ve said matches what Mr Skinner told me. I know you had no choice. But, my god Fox, another phone call, another panicked rush to a hospital, this time in Georgia. I don’t know how many more times I can do this.’

‘I know, Mrs Scully,’ Mulder rubs her shoulder tentatively, taking her bag from her.

‘Please, you’re right, you should call me Maggie,’ she huffs, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. But I can’t pretend I understand or agree with it. I think I have to ask you for a little more time before we’re in the same room together.’

Mulder nods. ‘I understand, Maggie. I want to check on Scully anyway, make sure she’s ok. Before I go, let me show you your grandson. There he is: he’s the champ in the top left. See him?’

Mulder sees her face soften, and she places her fingers lightly on the glass window, drinking in every detail of the baby.

‘Oh Fox…’, she murmurs, ‘he’s beautiful. Look at him. He looks like you, you know.’

‘You think?’

‘That bottom lip, there’s no doubt.’ She sighs. ‘He’s wonderful.’

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘Can I? Have you?’

‘No… no. I’m going to wait for Scully… But you really should. You know how angry she’ll be if she wakes up to learn that neither of us held him this whole time. She would want you to.’

Maggie nods. Without speaking, without eye contact, she holds his hand briefly in thanks. Mulder recognises her resolve; he knows Maggie is happier now she has something practical to focus on. Her face betrays her excitement as she flags down a nurse. He carries her bag with him and opens the third door down the corridor where he is greeted by Scully’s pale face, her anxiety having vanished in sleep.

5. 2005

Mulder hears the gravel crunch under the car as Scully pulls up into the drive. He turns on the grill but stubbornly keeps his back turned as Scully and her mother enter the house. This is Maggie’s first visit to their unremarkable house, their little haven. For the last six months, Scully has met her in the city, at neutral settings or at Maggie’s place. They told each other it was for safety, that it was better for both Mulder and Maggie that they didn’t put Maggie in a position of consorting with a fugitive, but they both knew the truth: they were scared of what Maggie might say. Of how she might react to seeing Mulder again, after so many years on the run.

Scully arrived home from her first meeting with Maggie with red eyes and a stuffy nose.

How was it? Mulder had asked.

It was great. Amazing. It was so good to see her again. Her replies were short, and Mulder heard her unspoken words. They had gone to bed without speaking any further that night.

After six months, Maggie had finally asked to see where Dana and her outlaw partner were living. A Fourth of July barbeque seemed like a good occasion, the external focus distracting from any tension. Scully bought fireworks and s’mores ingredients; Mulder built a bonfire ready for the evening.

He hears footsteps on the deck and turns to see Maggie. They study each other quietly: her white hair, wrists tightly covered by crepe-paper skin, his lined face and wider jaw. He’s been waiting for this moment since Scully floated the idea with him. Now it had arrived, he realised how many lost years sat between them. Maggie stands a metre away, but the distance is a metal spring that stretches wider and wider and wider.

‘Hello Fox,’ she says, and her voice takes him back to hospitals, to phone calls, to missing people and conversations haunted by death.

‘Hi Maggie.’ He doesn’t move, and neither does she. He wants to tell her he’s sorry, but he doesn’t want to accept sole responsibility. He wants to ask for forgiveness, but he isn’t afraid of defending his choices. He wants to ask how she’s been, what their absence felt like for her, but surely the hole they left in her life is too great for him to think about patching up now. Behind him, the barbeque hisses as the fat drips from the meat.

‘Dana tells me you built this deck.’

‘I did, yes. It was my first project when we moved in. Where is Scully?’

‘She’s getting the potato salad ready.’ Mulder looks towards the house and cringes inwardly when he sees no sign of her. ‘It’s lovely out here.’

‘It is.’ Suddenly he’s sick of this dance. ‘Maggie, I want you to know –‘

‘Fox, I think we’ve had enough.’ Her assertiveness catches him unawares and he stops. ‘Don’t you agree? Enough anger, enough apologies, enough guilt.’

He nods cautiously.

‘What did Scully say about our time away?’ He asks. Maggie sighs and looks at her hands.

‘She didn’t say a lot. She mentioned motels, some kitchen work. You know how she is. She stopped talking before she got in over her head.’

‘Are you…. Mad?’

‘Oh, I’ve been mad alright. Father McCue can attest to that.’ Mulder turns back to the meat, and Maggie stands beside him. She looks so like her daughter out of the corner of his eye; there’s a familiarity between Mulder and Maggie that he’d forgotten about. All the fear they’ve shared together sits within a current of energy between them. ‘But I don’t want to be mad anymore.’

The spring suddenly snaps back into shape.

‘That’s good to hear,’ Mulder turns the meat. ‘I was afraid I was going to get my ass kicked.’

Maggie chuckles and Mulder suddenly sees that their bonfire, fireworks and s’mores will be genuinely delightful.

‘Just stay, though, please?’ She asks tentatively. He realises that their détente is quick but delicate, in need of nurture. ‘Stay here. Let me visit occasionally. Maybe there’s a room that I might one day come to think of as being mine. Just let me see you both.’

‘Maggie… Of course we will. You’re welcome here any time. At any time.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ They both turn to see Scully approaching with a tray of salad and iced tea. Her small smile is cautious and there’s apprehension in her eyes.

‘I was just about to ask Fox why the deck slants to the left.’ Maggie takes the tray from Scully and kisses her cheek.

‘Maggie, I’ll have you know this is excellent craftsmanship. It slants so the water can drain off effectively.’ They sit at the table together, with Scully looking from her mother and her partner. Her face glows in a way he hasn’t seen for years, and he squeezes her hand under the table. He is pleased to have brought her back, happy to have given her a home. She is starting to thrive. She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears.

‘Look at me, I’m being ridiculous,’ she laughs, wiping her eyes.  ‘I’m just so glad we’re all here together.’

[redspiderling]

What other characters/women in shows and stuff do you like?

Heya anon!

Goodness, tons. Well done for asking a question that could have me going on and on for ages.

Elizabeth Bennet was probably my first love in fiction. I read P&P when I was like... 10 years old, because my mother is a literature nerd xD Then there’s Jane Eyre, obvious feminist icon. 

There’s also the somewhat lesser known character of Margaret Schlegel from Howards End, which is such an underappreciated work of fiction btw. I always loved Margaret’s monologue about her sister, which was an indirect support of female rights (note that this book was written in the early 1900s, and by a man no less. I was shocked with how spot on he was with that passionate speech about oppression. Then I found out he was gay and it was a very “oooooh, that makes so much sense” moment).

I’ll move a bit further towards Easter Europe and bring up Sonya Marmeladova from Crime and Punishment, because she deserves to be here. She was a literal angel and I swear to God Russian women are certifiably the most badass creatures to walk this Earth (joking. All women are badasses).

I’ll also always harbour a soft spot for Blanche DuBois, just because her story is so god damn heart breaking. She’s the sort of character that I bring to mind whenever I need to strengthen my convictions on why we absolutely need feminism. Speaking of theatre, Antigone is a badass lady and if I ever have a daughter, I’m naming her in her honour.

Oh! Also, Celie from the Colour Purple is my touchstone. I think of her on rainy days and take a deep breath. I’ll be forever grateful to Alice Walker because she gives me strength and hope.

I consciously don’t watch a lot of TV because I get hooked and end up binge watching like crazy. But I used to be a huge X-Files fan, which means Dana Scully completely dominates the field here for me. But I will give honorable mentions to Miss Fisher -who is absolute perfection- and Lena Luthor (I watched Supergirl in quarantine even though it was a bit too soapy for my taste but boy, Katie Mcgrath delivers).

Speaking of Scully and Lena Luthor, God, female characters get fucked over All.the.time. Looking at almost the entirety of Scully’s storyline (What WAS this fascination Carter has with our reproductive system?! Will somebody ever explain this BS?!), and the latest... Shenanigans in Supergirl, I’m seriously not impressed.

[fbdo1986]

i got tagged by @sotorubio !!! thank you silja this is so cute

SOFT

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

DARK ACADEMIA

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup (if any haha) | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewellery | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

EDGY

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humour | accidentally very dramatic (sometimes) | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

70s

colourful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

PREPPY CASUAL

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

apparently i’m dark academia! although these seemed VERY equally split which makes a LOT of sense to me!! i’d love if they had an 80s category i think i’d probably have a lot for those :-) but considering i describe my ideal/current style as a mix of dana scully from the x-files and a tame elton john i’m not surprised i got dark academia lol!

anyway!!! i’m gonna tag some people who’d probably love this and i would also love to see their picks so: @violaeeade @pwrrangerr @trulyalpha @hannahhunt2013 @sapphiresays @firedrillsarealarming @thisandthisandthis and any of my other cute mutuals/friends and followers who wants to see what they’d get!

[irregularcollapse]

papRules: Answer twenty questions and then tag twenty some people who you want to get to know better

I was tagged by @paper-street-soap and I am so thankful because I’m feeling CHATTY TONIGHT

Name: I don’t like it so noooope

Nickname: Bee 🐝

Zodiac: Libra!

Languages: English and shitty French, but I was able to order a whole box of macarons when I was in Paris so tell me that isn’t fluency hmm

Favourite season: Autumn! I am ALIVE 🍂

Favourite flower: I don’t really have one... I have a wolfsbane tattoo but real flowers? They all smell bad and give me hay fever so no thank you. MAYBE lilacs. Or lavender, which I love to drink and eat... so yes probably that

Favourite animal: #edgelord but I love a good raven. And cats! But again, I am allergic, so I look and do not touch

Favourite fictional character: Villanelle and Eve oh god no one can compare right now. Ummmm Adam Parrish! Eric Bittle ❤️ Dana Scully. Buffy Summers. A recent fave is Gideon from Gideon the Ninth. I loooooved Evelyn Hugo from her eponymous book. Henry Winter lmao... anyone played by Dakota Johnson, even the shitty characters. Celie from The Colour Purple. Prior Walter. So many.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: tea! I recently quit coffee and I feel great about it

Average hours of sleep: 8! But more if I didn’t have to get up for work. On the weekends I can do 10+ 🙃

Dogs or cats: Cats!

Blankets: I’m literally under a blanket right now. I live under blankets. I am more blanket than woman.

Dream trip: I have been there already but I want to spend a month in Edinburgh (with day trips to other Scottish places) and just write and visit graveyards and wander around. I also want to go to Japan! I was thinking of doing a walking tour that goes for a few weeks.

Blog established: I think 2016? I’m sure there’s a way to check this but I don’t care that much

Followers: 2749 and decreasing by the day! I think I really only have like 20 active followers, and there are probably a lot of bots, and obviously many many inactive blogs.

Random fact about me: I am wracking my brain and can’t come up with anything good. I have been to over 20 countries! I really like super spicy food! I had a vendetta against panna cottas because contestants kept making them on Masterchef and it made me soooo mad, but I had my first panna cotta when I was Adelaide last year and it’s now my favourite dessert probably.

Please assume that if you see this, you are tagged if you want to do it. I love being tagged but I know not everyone does and I always feel guilty about tagging people 🙃

[acnhmedlilove]

I saw this going around and wanted to try it 🌻🌺🍂

·         🌞Name: Medlilove

·         🌝Nicknames: KitKat

·         🦀Zodiac: Cancer

·         📏Height: 5′6″

·         👌Languages: English

·         🇬🇧Nationality: UK/European

Favorite..

·         🌾Season: I love when the seasons change from one to another

·         🏖️Scent: Sea breeze, the ocean

·         🌼Flower: Baby’s breath

·         💮Colour: I love turmeric, soft pinks, navys and cerulean blues

·         🐦Animal: I’ve always wanted a love bird, or a corgi

·         😍Fictional character: So so many, Captian Janeway, Minerva McGonnagall, Dana Scully, Kisuke Urahara, Porco Rosso, Dorian Pavus, Cassandra Pentagast, Yachiru and Zaraki Kenpachi, Totakeke KK Slider, Captain America, Kurtain Mucklowe and so on hahaha

·         🍵Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa?: I do like a coffee with milk in the morning, but you can’t beat an English breakfast tea

·         🌜Average sleep: Really fucked, I have really dry eyes and often wake up needing to eye drop

·         🐈Dog or cat person?: BOTH

·         🧸Number of blankets: 3

·         🌏Dream trip: Giants Coresway or to see the California Redwoods

·         🤷🏻‍♀️Blog established: God knows

·        🔢 Followers: like, 900?

·         🌿Random fact: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh I work in a contemporary art gallery and currently we have sticks in giant bunches, picked up one per day by the artist who made a font out of different leaves and wrote letters to nature apologising on humanity’s behalf. It’s pretty nice

I tag anyone who wants to do it <3

[embermarsh]

INTRO TO EMBER

( danielle rose russell , 24 looks 20, cis female, she/her ) The war is about to start EMBER MARSH. We see that you will be fighting for the MARSH family as a LYCAN. SHE reminds me of HOT AND STILL GLOWING EMBERS AFTER A FIRE HAS RAGED, AN INNER BATTLE OF RETICENCE AND DAUNTLESSNESS, BUBBLING LAUGHTER ON THE PURSE OF YOUR LIPS. We wish you luck. ( cat, 25, she/her, gmt/bst )

ABOUT

name: ember ruth marsh nicknames: em, red, little marsh, marsh age: 24, looks 20 gender: cis female pronouns: she/her sexuality: pansexual species: lycanthrope occupation: forensic scientist ( with a focus on blood spatter analysis ), with aspirations to become a forensic pathologist positive attributes: charming, compassionate, dauntless, ardent, tactile, loyal negative attributes: reticient, stubborn, naive, scrutinizing, unceasing, sarcastic fc: danielle rose russell

HEADCANONS

ember first turned a week after her 13th birthday ( and boy was it a doozy, although she’d been told since birth what shifting was like [ although an entirely individual experience ] and about her family affliction, and even though she felt prepared - she wasn’t. it was entirely out of her control and she realised soon enough into the transition that regardless of how prepared she’d tried to be, she wasn’t going to be able to control this -- her first transformation, she was just going to have to let it happen, go through it, survive it and figure out what to do afterwards. she came too the next day, unaware of her surrounding, uncomfortable and sore. the fact she was disassociated from her environment for a few moments really threw her and she cried. )

ember made it her mission, after her few first transformations to find a place where she had control ( or at least more of it ) of the experience.

although the girl of the Marsh family ( in regards to the children of george and kelly ) ember has always tried to tousle with her siblings and other family members as if she wasn’t the daughter ( and granddaughter ) of the alpha/s. of course; she’s less boisterous than her brothers, and perhaps a little more reserved than others ( although that doesn’t mean she can’t and won’t be bold ). if it’s possible to be a balanced lycan, that is she. she’s had the experience and love and care from her older family memebers to guide her, show her what to do and what not to do, and it really has benefitted her.

ember has never had an issue with blood or injury or violence; she’d had plenty of gory and horror movie sessions with friends that she shouldn’t have when younger, and there was the whole fact that she was a lycan and not unaccustomed to the more macabre side of life sometimes; but it lead her to her career path now. a forensic scientist ( going to crime scenes, carefully collecting and looking at evidence, examining and analysing it to help law enforcement catch criminals and solve crimes ).

( it’s no surprise ) ember loves dogs, and if she could, she’d buy a house and fill it with dogs. she has a chesnut lab setter ( labrador/red setter ) pup who she got from an old college friend whose dog accidentally got pregnant and had a litter of puppies. ember got dana ( named after dana scully ) about a year ago.

she loves everything noodles related; honestly, if it’s got noodles, it’s got her vote. of course, it’s important she have a balanced diet because she burns energy differently and needs her strength for shifting etc, but she can’t resist a noodle based meal. if you need to get into ember’s good books, want a favour, or need forgiveness, come bearing noodles.

ember is a dark reddy brown coloured wolf.

BIO

ember was born after 36 hours of labor, the middle marsh child for george and kelly marsh, and a baby girl no less. ( finally a girl after a rambunctious boy ) was it possible to be the youngest child, a girl; the only girl, and not be a princess? yes. because ember had no inkling of the spoilt baby troupe. she just wanted to be one of the family, play with her brother and cousins. and that didn’t change when her baby brother, Jeremy, came along. although yes she was the only girl, and doted on ( mama’s and daddy’s girl both equally ), she was still a marsh! she wasn’t a delicate porcelain doll that you couldn’t pick up without fear of breaking. but she was treated differently to the boys, because being a lycan was different for a woman. in little ways, but different, and with that came different lessons to be taught and understood. ember was born on an impossible hot day, and thank god for air con and ice chips because if not kelly marsh would not have gotten through it. but it was the mess of red hair atop her head that convinced her parents that ember was the right name for her, more so than the sorching weather outside. 

ember always knew she wasn’t going to be alpha, or even beta. she’d never assumed she’d be any ranking in the pack, because of how many marsh’s came before her, but it didn’t stop her from wanting it. silently, quietly, patiently. she was ambitious, she was capable. she was... also thankful for the freedom that also gave her. she wasn’t as firmly fixed to the spot in cresthill as other’s were. she had the freedom to travel ( albeit for short amounts of time -- home was home and family is everything ) and study elsewhere.

she’d always had her eyes set on a challenging and perhaps more hands on//involved job, and it just so happened that she fell into the idea of forensic science and decided to look into the potential routes she could go into within that. although the end goal had always been forensic pathology, but after her brother’s brutal murder, ember paused her further study ( one year into a medical degree ) and found a job helping the Cresthill police department as a forensic scientist.

to hear that jeremy had been murdered ( not having been at home at the time ) was a surreal moment for ember, she remembered all the feeling and sensation rushing from her legs. it wasn’t until her hip ached from the impact of falling that she released she’d lost balance and fell to the ground. suddenly, she felt sick. very, very sick. and confused. and angry. and... she’d dropped everything to get home. there was no better way to express how she felt following his death and funeral than ...well, numb. something huge in her life was missing. but it was coming together with her family which helped her healing. being open and honest with Franklin helped hugely, and in truth, getting Dana helped lift her spirits and make her laugh again.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

a best friend -- either day one buddies or they were very young when they met and bonded! outside of franklin, this person is her go-to. ride and die buddies for life. an ex-partner/crush -- it’s a little awkward now, maybe they broke up well, or not so. but the fact is ember is over it now. perhaps they were friends first, or perhaps they’ve tried to maintain a friendship after. this is very open to discussion. work colleague -- work can be stressful and long and hard work sometimes, but these two have each other to keep them laughing or their spirits up. be it a perfectly timed coffee cup being put on a desk, or a well timed lunch break.  friends with benefits -- whether it’s late night after work, or when they’re stressed and want some relief, and laughter, and alcohol, they can call upon the other. there are no strings attached ( perhaps there’s family politics or maybe they just know the visions they have for the future don’t match at all ) and it’s just fun. ember really needed some fun in her life after losing some of her fire after Jeremy’s death, and she happened to find it between the sheets with this person. antagonist -- she isn’t sure why ( really, she doesn’t know ) but this person just really gets under her skin! she can’t place it, but it’s glaringly obviously there.

more to come!