#this is all scully but i mean its kinda cute

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 8

Hope You Didn’t Have Any Big Friday Plans

In which Scully learns of motherhood. Read on AO3 here

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hope you didn’t have any big Friday plans”

“Why? Missy what’s wrong?”

“Well there was a bit of an accident at lunch today…”

“Melissa you tell me what’s wrong right now.”

“Mom’s in the hospital. She tripped down the stairs, fractured her leg”

“I’ll be right there”

“I didn’t even tell you which hospital!”

“Georgetown?”

“Yes. The emergency center. Room 305.”

“I’m already in the car.”

Scully rushed into the hospital, hurrying past doctors and nurses alike until she got to the emergency ward. A receptionist questioned her but must have seen the panicked look on Scully’s face before showing her on to room 305 at her insistence, where she walked in to find her mother laying propped up on a hospital bed, leg already casted.

“Jesus Mom what happened?” Scully asked, immediately fussing over her despite Maggie’s attempts to wave her daughter away. Scully made a mental note to ask for her chart later.

“It’s nothing dear, I’ll be fine. I tripped on my way downstairs, fell down a whole flight…”

“Did they check you for other fractures? Do you have a concussion?”

“Yes Dana, they checked everything. Apart from some minor bruising the only thing wrong is my leg.” Scully went to interrupt her again, but Maggie shot her a glare that silenced her. “I’ll have the doctor give you a copy of my x-rays but honestly there’s nothing you can do sweetheart. The doctor is very nice, and seemed quite competent.”

Scully seemed to relax, choosing to walk around the side of the hospital bed and sit in the vacant chair beside it, still critically eyeing the cast on her mother's leg.

“I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re ok.”

She reached out and grabbed her mother’s hand, who held it with a squeeze by her side. She looked around the room and only then noticed the absence of her sister.

“Where’s Missy?”

Maggie, sighed and dropped Scully’s hand.

“That's what I needed to talk to you about…”, she pressed her hand to the bridge of her nose, clearly thinking heavily on her next words. “Melissa took Emily home for her nap. And with me going to be out of commission for at least the next few months, were going to have to discuss who will be taking care of Emily.”

And the realization dawned on her that Scully had been so preoccupied with her mother and sister, she had completely forgotten about the whereabouts of her own fucking daughter.

“Oh. Can Melissa watch her…” she knew the answer before the question had even finished coming out of her mouth.

“Dana, your sister has her own life, her own job. She cannot just drop everything to look after your daughter.” She wasn’t shocked by the words, but by the frustrated tone with which her mother scolded her.

“Mom…” Scully felt her cheeks flush with shame. Maggie carried on, staring sternly at her daughter in the chair.

“You do remember that she is your daughter, right?”

Despite her mother being the one in the hospital bed, Scully felt like the one receiving surgery. She attempted to choke out a response but found her voice wasn’t working properly, she simply sputtered at her mother’s sudden accusation. Maggie’s eyes softened, but her voice remained firm.

“Dana no one knows more than me how much you’ve been through. And you know I will support you in any way I can but she’s your daughter. She’s your daughter and you’re going to have to get to know her some day.”

Scully stared at the linoleum floor tiles, her eyes mapping the grey outlines of the squares one by one in an attempt to stop the tears she felt forming. She could feel her mother’s gaze burning into her cheek.

“I don’t know how.” Her voice cracks as she speaks, and she hears Maggie sigh, but still can’t bear to look at her. “I don’t know how to be a mother to her. I’m scared I won’t do it right.” A rogue tear slips down her cheek. “She doesn’t even like me.”

Her mother grabs her hand again, and Scully can only see her concerned look out of the corner of her eye.

“Baby, none of us know. You don’t go into motherhood knowing exactly what to do, you just try. If you try your best, that will be good enough for her.”

Scully was still staring forward, so Maggie gave a gentle tug on her hand to get her attention. She looked up, the figure of her mother blurry through a haze of tears. Maggie leaned into her despite her restricted leg.  

“When Bill came along he didn’t like me much either. Cried every time I picked him up. He refused to eat, refused to nap”.

Scully had to laugh. Of course Bill was difficult, even as an infant.

“But I kept trying. I kept holding him, feeding him. And one day, he just stopped crying. I held him in my arms and he looked up at me with his little eyes and smiled. And I knew I had to have done something right. You kids all turned out ok, anyway.”

Scully smiled up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze back.

“Yea Mom, you did alright.” Both women laughed, and finally the tension was released.

“You have to give yourself a chance Dana. Give yourself a chance to be a good mom.”

-

Why was it that staring into the face of her own daughter made her feel so nervous? It wasn’t like she was scared of a baby. Or was she?  

Emily was sitting in her play-chair station, bouncing happily and spinning a little plastic ring. Scully sat with her hand propped up on her hand at the kitchen table watching her. She’d been stuck there for at least 10 minutes, just watching the child bounce and play, unable to interact with her but refusing to walk away to safety. Her child. Her mother was upstairs in bed, she’d put her there herself, insisting she needed rest. Melissa left to go back to her apartment, and she was now alone in the kitchen with a one year old, who she was quickly realizing she was more terrified by than any person she had ever known.

Dana pull yourself together. She’s just a baby.

“She’s your baby”, she whispered to herself, partially as reassurance and partially as a reminder.

When she first got back, after the shock of it all had worn off, when she had rational thoughts running through her head again, she ordered a DNA test for Emily. She didn’t tell her mother, or even Missy. She gets it done through a friend at the hospital, and she handed her back the results in an unmarked folder over private coffee. A manila folder holding a potential explanation of what had happened to her and it had taken her almost 2 weeks to open it. She was torn between wanting desperately for the truth and being terrified of it. Of course, she had thought through the possibilities before hand, being the logical person she was.

Option 1) She was already pregnant when she got abducted. It wasn’t out of the realm of extreme possibility. She had been seeing someone occasionally, the time-frame matched up, and though they had been careful, she knew the percentages. It was unlikely she hadn’t shown any symptoms, but again, she had read of instances where women hadn’t shown pregnancy symptoms until late third trimester. Altogether unlikely but not improbable.

Option 2) Emily was someone else’s daughter. This is what she had rationalized as the most likely answer, given her lack of pregnancy symptoms. The FBI suggested that other women may have been abducted by the same man. She may have stolen the child away during her escape and simply lost the memory. And when she held her, when her mother placed her in her arms and introduced Emily to her as her daughter, she had felt a startling lack of maternal feelings. Usually mothers who reconnect with their children document immediate connection, feelings of easy recognition, familiarity. She could have been holding a lively loaf of bread wrapped in a blanket for all the connection she felt to the little bundle of joy placed in her arms. No, Scully had convinced herself quite quickly that she was in possession of someone else's offspring. But that was before Emily sprouted little red curls from the top of her head. Before her mother pulled out a baby picture of little Dana and even she herself had to admit the resemblance was uncanny.

She opened the envelope at the kitchen table at midnight after she padded downstairs, long after her mother had gone to bed. She’d had another nightmare. Tests, needles, bright lights, the usual vague images plaguing her mind and dampening her brow with sweat. But that night, for the first time, she dreamed of her. Dreamed of the cry of an infant through the blinding lights, and felt her heart lurch at the sound. She woke with a scream just short of her lips, so scared not only for her, but for the child. It was then that she realized. She needed to know.

It was a flip of a coin, option 1 versus 2, neither one a best or worst case scenario. But she miscalculated. With some sick twist of the universe, the coin managed to land perfectly on its side and the rational Dr. Scully was presented with the previously unknown option 3.

She was hers, oh yes, that was undeniable. 46 chromosomes of Scully, in fact. She read the report 3 times, looking for the tiny differences to indicate the presence of two distinct genotypes combining to form one unique human, the way she was taught even back in her undergraduate classes. The natural order of things. The only viable way. She found no differences.

Emily was genetically identical to her, a perfect clonal match, down to the individual base pairs in her DNA.

Option 3 provided little answers and generated so many questions. So many questions even the well educated mind of Dr. Dana Scully couldn’t comprehend. The only solace was that when her mother asked her over tea at the dining table about the ever-so-sensitive subject of maternity, she didn’t have to lie.

Of course, that only spurred her mother on more. She kept subtly leaving the baby with her, asking her to hold it while she prepared a bottle or ran to the garden. It was obvious what she was trying to do, although Scully was obstinate to her intentions. To be honest, the idea of a daughter wasn’t what frightened her. She had always seen herself as a mother one day. She used to play dolls with Missy and Charlie when they were little, and she had fond memories of rocking little plastic dolls to sleep, pressing bottles to their unmoving lips and bossing her little brother around the playhouse insisting that she was too busy with the baby to take care of the chores. She worked with kids at the hospital, mostly got along quite well with them actually. She would have been happy to have a daughter of her own.

But Emily wailed every time Maggie dropped her into Scully’s awaiting arms. She screamed her lungs off for the first few months of her life every time Scully was even in the room. While Scully previously saw the merit of her mother’s actions, it slowly turned into a torture for both of them. So much so that Maggie stopped trying all together. After months of stubborn fits from both Scully girls, Maggie found it best to simply keep Emily in her own arms.

Until now.

She cursed the stairs, cursed her mother’s socks and their hardwood floors, cursed God, who was probably looking down at her and laughing. She cursed herself, a pathetic mother, scared of her own child.

Emily stopped spinning the little plastic rings. She grabbed at a stuffed duck, tattered and stained, perched on the side of the activity seat, babbling happily to herself. The duck managed to elude her little grasp however, and instead fell to the floor.

Immediately, Emily’s eyes welled with tears, and she banged her fists against the plastic surroundings of her seat, bouncing up and down and shaking the entire structure. The screaming started shortly afterwards.

Scully’s eyes widened as well, and she sprung out of her chair, dropping to her knees in front of Emily and grabbing the duck. She placed it in front of the wailing toddler, still bouncing and shaking in her seat.

“Look, here’s Ducky. Ducky’s here.” She shook the toy in her line of site, willing Emily to calm down, if only for the sake of her sleeping mother. Emily opened her eyes and saw the toy in front of her, suddenly ceasing her tantrum. She sniffled and took the doll from Scully, grabbing it rather aggressively by the neck. Scully laughed, despite her trepidation, as the duck was strangled by the fists of a toddler.

Emily looked up at her then, little blue eyes wide, satisfied by the presence of Ducky and intrigued by the giggle Scully let escape her lips. They were face to face, and Scully felt oddly self-conscious. She fixed the collar of her shirt as Emily regarded her. She didn’t cry, though her tantrum induced tears were still dewy on her cheeks.

Scully found herself bringing her hand up, slowly. It was shaking, in fact all of her was shaking, with nerves, emotion, whatever . She brought a hand up to Emily’s cheek and carefully brushed a wet droplet aside with her thumb.

Her skin is so smooth, she thought. She was scared the act of contact would cause the kid to burst into tears again, but still Emily simply returned back to looking at Ducky, who was arguably more interesting than Scully.

She likes the duck more than you. It was a ridiculous thought that caused her to chuckle again. Immediately, Emily’s eyes were back on hers. This time, she pursed her tiny lips, as if in deep thought. She looked down at the duck in her hands, back up at Scully, and then suddenly thrust the yellow duck towards her.

“Ducky” Emily said, leaning again towards Scully and pushing the toy at her. Scully responded with only a baffled smile, which Emily then returned in full toddler exuberance. A gummy, wonderful toddler smile, and for the first time, Scully felt a little twinge in her chest as she looked at her.

She took the duck. Emily clapped her hands together, giggling her own twinkling laugh, like windchimes in a gentle breeze. She then turned and went back to spinning the little purple plastic rings, unbothered by the exchange she had just participated in.

Scully, however, looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Or witnessed a miracle. She held the cloth duck like scientific proof of the unexplainable event, unwilling to let it go, gazing down on it in awe before the tears from before resurfaced.

On the floor of her mother’s kitchen in the soft light of the evening, Scully cried over a cloth duck. She cried over the softness of baby skin, over chromosomes and unknowns, and over all the shit she’s been through. She sank down off her knees and sobbed an apology to the little girl in front of her. She felt her body shake as she sloughed off the moths of feeling like a stranger in her own home, avoiding the kitchen during feeding time and her mother’s disappointed smile. She pressed the duck to her face, feeling the soft fabric absorb the tears off her own cheek, and she inhaled the scent of her daughter.

When the tears had subsided, she looked up at Emily still preoccupied with the little plastic puzzles. She leaned in, clearing her throat, and danced the duck along the top of the seat. Emily’s eyes lit up, and quickly she grabbed at the duck, pulling it in close to her face and hugging it with all the ferocity of a child’s love. She looked up and smiled at Scully again, and the idea that it was all a fluke flew out of Scully’s mind.

Scully reached over and brushed a tiny red curl out of her baby’s eyes, again feeling awed by the softness of her skin against her fingertips.

“Hi Emily”, she whispered into the still air of the kitchen, and Emily smiled at the sound of her name, clutching Ducky closer to her chest.

“I’m your mom.”

[dreamingofscully]

6x10. “Tithonus” - X-Files Rewatch

“You know, most people want to live forever.” - Scully “Most people are idiots. Which is one of the reasons I don't.” - Fellig “I think you're wrong. How can you have too much life? There's too much to learn, to experience.” - Scully “75 years... is enough. Take my word for it. You live forever, sooner or later you start to think about the big thing you're missing and that everybody else gets to find out about but you.” - Fellig “What about love?” - Scully

The last episode showed Mulder sitting at the desk in front of Scully. I love that they’re sitting near each other now. Mulder totally paid off or did SOMETHING to get the other guy (that we see in “Triangle”) to vacate so he could sit next to Scully.

More of Mulder’s little rebellions - feet on the desk. Contrasted with Scully sitting neatly. But look at her messy post-its... she’s also got her little rebellions, even though she takes her work much more seriously.

First it was fertilizer checks, which at least let them spend hours together talking about ‘anything and everything’ in cars. Next was the interviews, which they were supposed to do together. Now, phone background checks. Mulder’s right their next stop on this trajectory is cleaning toilets.

Their banter when Scully gets called into Kersh’s office. 😍

Scully’s unimpressed face at Ritter’s theory.

“Agent Mulder and I will begin immediately.” Scully KNOWS Kersh doesn’t mean to include Mulder when she says this, but this is her way of rebelling, of shouting at him: WE ARE A TEAM.

Mulder’s so jealous Scully’s off to check out a case without him, one that he can tell has a certain ‘paranormal bouquet’. I love Scully’s assurance that this is just a one-time thing. Mulder knows she can do what she wants, that she doesn’t need to stay with him. “If she does a good job” (of course she will and he knows it). Despite wanting her near him… he DOESN'T want her to waste her talents, so tells her it’s okay if she leaves him (that he’ll be okay if she moves on - which is a LIE and they both know it). Love this little interaction.

I love that Scully has such a sixth sense when it comes to people - Deep Throat, Diana, now Ritter. She can tell that he doesn’t care about the truth, about justice. He only wants a promotion. This is something that she’s always had, but once she got partnered with Mulder she only really became aware of how important it was to her. Mulder doesn’t give a shit how he looks in front of his superiors, he flagrantly does the complete opposite of what they want if it’s the right thing to do. She admires his ability to not care so much and has adopted that into herself, and has learned to listen to that voice inside herself now that tells her when someone’s dirty.

I LOVE how blase Fellig is about everything. Reminds me of a more serious Clyde Bruckman. He’s just tired of life, has given up, but has no ability to do anything about it.

Scully following her instincts and trying to get the truth of the case. She couldn’t care less if her ideas or line of questioning doesn’t fit with Ritter’s narrative.

“I thought we were looking for the truth.” - Scully

Mulder’s “we used to sit next to each other” and their conversation is so sweet. Scully adores him.

What things did Ritter say about Scully in his report to Kersh?

Mulder’s being so cute and helpful. He wants a part of something strange and to feel like he’s working with Scully not just beside her.

Scully’s briefcase in the surveillance car. ❤️ Hopping over the centre console. So smol. ❤️

Scully’s sense for people, again. Knowing that Fellig isn’t a killer and Ritter is a snake.

“What, do you want me to cry for them? You want me to make like I feel sorry for them? I don't. Lucky bastards. Every one of them.” - Fellig

I love this line. Vince is SO GOOD at making characters that are likeable despite being unlikeable (Crump in “Drive”, Fellig… his characters in Breaking Bad, particularly WW)

Scully being a complete badass and arresting the pimp. Smacking him upside the head when he calls her “Red”. 😍

Ritter calling Scully “Dana” is just… gross.

Then coming out to be the rotten person Scully thought he was (he doesn’t care if he’s wrong, if justice isn’t served, he just wants to interrogate a confession and railroad this guy. He “knows the judge” - what an entitled prick.)

That Kersh sent Scully on this case with this guy - calling him a “promising young Agent” and “what she used to be”

She was NEVER like Ritter. But it is SO Kersh to think that a guy like Ritter is the ideal - he presents himself in the best light, sucks up to his superiors. Kinda like Fletcher when he was Mulder…

Scully telling Ritter to call her Scully instead of Dana. What is a tender name when used by Mulder is a professional one to all others. 

Mulder being helpful ❤️ and trying to be sneaky in the crowded office. No wonder he chose to slack off, play basketball and do anything except work during the day, but came in late/early to do the stuff he actually wanted.

“Mr. Fellig, I know... that you know more about photography than I do but this is just a lens flare.” - Scully “You're right. I do know more about photography than you do.” - Fellig

When Scully offers her usual pragmatic alternative to the ‘apparition’ in the photograph, I love Fellig’s response. He doesn’t disagree, just responds to her like he’s bored.

Scully finding a clue, so calls Mulder.

When Mulder finds information that Fellig is dangerous but can’t reach Scully, he calls Ritter and TELLS HIM SHE’S THERE. He still goes in guns-blazing. What an idiot.

Scully’s first concern, after saying that if you lived forever you could learn and experience so much, is love. The one thing she lacks at the moment. If she could turn back time and do things all over again, perhaps things would have turned out different with her and Mulder. As it is, they’ve wasted so much time. :( She looks so sad when Fellig says “You don't want to be around when it's gone.”)

Scully is concerned when Fellig looks at her strangely and prepares his camera. As much as she protests, she DOES believe. She’s afraid of dying more than she is of believing in this instance, reacting as though she doesn’t believe that Fellig can predict death.

At the hospital, how much self-control did Mulder have when facing Ritter? He probably knows the guy is getting in deep shit so doesn’t want to interfere with that. I don’t think Scully would have pressed too much for punishment, but Mulder DEFINITELY would have, because he KNOWS that this guy KNEW Scully was there, and shot blindly anyways.

The secret handshake, playing with each others’ fingers, it just makes my heart hurt. ❤️ Sitting on the bed, he places his arm over her on the other side, leaning closely. Gazing at each other.  ❤️

“I just think that … that death only looks for you... once you seek its opposite.” - Mulder

Death only matters once you have something in your life worth living for. (?) There are a few ways to interpret Mulder’s words here, but I think this one fits.

Side Note: When Mulder is doing his phone call the person he’s talking to is called “Ms. Ehrmantraut”, which Vince uses later for Mike Ehrmantraut in Breaking Bad. ❤️

[sambergscott]

list of things jake does to make amy feel better when they’re struggling to make a baby (also applicable for an extra hormonal, pregnant amy):

tidies / cleans the entire apartment while she’s having brunch with her mom

sticks post-its inside the book she’s currently reading with cute messages e.g. “your hair looks really pretty today” or “i love you even more than die hard”

cooks her favourite dinners / comes home with pierogis potato pancakes and a cup of hot chocolate 

buys ingredients so they can bake chocolate chip cookies together

volunteers them for babysitting duties with their nephews and nieces and tells her that she’s the best tia in the entire wooorld (and she’s going to be the best mom too) 

brings all their blankets into the living room so they can snuggle on their new couch and watch romcoms 

teaches her how to play his nintendo switch (she gets really addicted to it for like a week and he would be mad that it means *he* can’t use it but the way she sticks her tongue out in concentration is so cute that he immediately forgives her) 

sex. 

visits her desk constantly on his breaks (and even sometimes not on his breaks, don’t tell holt) to tell her about the gruesome murder he’s working / ask for help from the best detective in the nypd 

walks around the park hand in hand 

when they first start trying (before it becomes kinda heartbreaking) and once pregnant he comes home with baby sneakers and adorable baby clothes and a mug that says “world’s greatest mom” on them (this only serves to make her more emotional but it’s the only mug she uses from then on) 

buys her new books (and listens intently when she reviews each one over breakfast) 

keeps hitchcock / scully / charles away from her when she’s having a particularly bad day / texts rosa / kylie suggesting they have a girls night 

provides hugs and kisses on demand 

reminds her that they are a family no matter what, that everything will be ok / that they get to hold an adorable baby that is half her, half him in [insert how many months of pregnancy left]

(when she finally gives birth and the new mommy hormones kick in, he steals the baby from their bassinet / whoever’s holding them at the time and watches amy’s entire body relax when she feels the weight of her no. 1 person in her arms and sees that adorable lil smile that makes both of their hearts melt)

[jlf23tumble]

(1/?) Hi – x files anon here, from @alienfuckeronmain’s blog. I saw your reblog and now have more thoughts! About what you said about first season mulder and scully characterizations – I don’t know about “high-talker” but I just watched the pilot, and pilot-Mulder is just.. *off*. Way, way too hyper and manic, with the crazy theories and the pressured speech. I mean, it’s a pilot, and we have make allowances for the fact that the show hadn’t settled into

(2/?) what it was going to be, but I’m glad that they toned down that part of his characterization, because it made it even more implausible that someone like him would be working at the FBI. Also… I know that the premise of this show that you have to accept is that Mulder will ultimately be proven right, but I just can’t help watching those first episodes as an adult and thinking, “oh Scully, you’ve got SUCH a promising career ahead of you. PLEASE don’t hitch your wagon to this nutcase.”

(3/?) And for the wardrobe stuff… I guess I never really noticed early-season Mulder having a bad wardrobe. But then again, Duchovny was hot in anything, and everything – including those high-waisted 90s jeans – looked good on him. The man had a seriously beautiful body, but one that didn’t look like it was chiselled out of clay, or synthetically made in some gym-lab the way Hollywood male bodies typically look.

(4/?) As for Scully’s wardrobe, I kinda like the characterization of it being a bit plain and unvarnished. She’s obviously very early on in her career, and she spent her 20s in med school and residency, where your wardrobe is limited to scrubs and jeans and sweats with the name of your undergrad school stamped on them, so I totally buy that she doesn’t have a clear idea of what a high-achieving career woman should dress like.

(5/?)And I see both sides of the argument – Gillian Anderson is a pretty lady, and maybe she’s not as conventionally pretty as Duchovny, so the wardrobe frumpiness weighs more heavily on her, so it would be nice if they dressed her up a bit better. But, I’m more of the opinion that… sigh… why does everyone have to be glammed up? They’re government agents, not fashion models. The frumpiness fits, no?

(6/?)And as I’m writing this, I wonder if the earlier suit choices were an homage to Clarice Starling – didn’t she look a bit frumpy, with kind of the same brown gingham jacket that scully had in the pilot, that Hannibal mocked her for? I also clicked on your links for x files fanfic, and omg the internet was soooo cute back then! I wanna pinch its cheeks! I’ve been hitting AO3 for M/K fanfic, but I’ll try those too – thanks! If you’ve got any specific recs though, I would love to hear them!

-------------

HELLO TO YOU, TOO, X Files anon! I’m so glad @alienfuckeronmain sent you my way because yes, yes, I can talk about these topics for hours and hours, and I’ll try to keep it at a normal level for everyone else, but it’s Halloween! If you can’t go awf about these two today of all days, when can you? Apart from 2/23 and 10/13, amirite?? Before we get too far into casting and clothing, I’m going to rec a fabulous time-waster from mid-fandom times, and that’s Jessica’s brilliant recaps on Television without Pity....here’s the link to the X Files in general (they’re ranked from most recent, and don’t ask me why, but there are a ton of gaps??? Are these just Jessica’s greatest hits or what?). but if you read nothing else, check out the recap for the pilot here because it does a FANTASTIC job of gently mocking everything about the place where it all started (and the manic high talking).

You are absolutely right on the money about the link to Clarice Starling, she seems to be the blueprint for early Scully in all kinds of way, and if you watch the pilot, you, much like Mulder, will wonder exactly who she pissed off to draw the short card here, but she’s eager and curious and coming from med school, and he’s a total pariah (not wrongfully so), and she was hired by the Cigarette Smoking Man and Blevins and the other assholes running the joint to basically spy on him (worst case) and discredit him (best case), but that’s not how it all pans out. 

I think the beauty of this show, especially in its earlier days, was that Mulder was not always right--he usually had wild hunches and went for it, but a lot of credit went to Scully for actually trying to ground his crazy ass in cold, hard facts. Spooky Mulder was in the basement for a reason, and one thing I loved about this show was that he totally Got It, he could mock her hard on for science all he wanted, but he also appreciated the credibility she brought to the operation, and he respected the hell out of her. Hard to believe how ground-breaking that was and still is, tbh. To me, some of the more interesting episodes in that regard were when they switched POVs: when Scully was faced with something related to her faith that made her believe something she couldn’t see or prove, and how whatever that thing was turned Mulder into a scathing asshole skeptic, how he couldn’t believe she’d “fall for that crap” when he basically fell for it every day. Much to think about, or so the writers were hoping, lmao.

As for casting, I’ve read alllllll the interviews, and from what Chris Carter says, Fox (of course) wanted someone who was hotter, more of the “Pam Anderson” type to be Scully, so the studio fought hard against casting her, but everyone, including Duchovny, pushed to keep her, which was pretty amazing when you consider how young she was, the overall lack of a budget here, and just what a weird show it was in context. She got pregnant a year or so into it, but by then, Scully was rock solid, and it turned into a pretty great storyline, so no worries.

As for clothes, even to this DAY, I have friends in Washington who swear there’s a deliberate style of dress for certain offices to prove how “serious” you are about your work, and this would have been doubly true for 1990s FBI...one of the gripes was that in later years, Armani or someone was dressing Mulder, and Scully had this killer wardrobe, and howwwwww on their budgets and with these types of jobs? Won’t someone think of the GS-10 pay grade???

Anyway, I’ll shut up now, but I love people revisiting it from day one! It’s probably even MORE dated with every passing day, but check out all the fic and read those recaps! I wish I had actual recs for you, but I’d need to go back and dig--you couldn’t really save them without literally copying and pasting, and I simply didn’t do that since all the archives were there to, uh, archive. Have I mentioned lately how wonderful it is that ao3 lets your bookmark, download, and subscribe? Because it’s pretty goddamned wonderful!

[dr-dean]

ABO Fic Rec List

In honor of ABO Appreciation day I am doing a NEW ABO Fic Rec List! You can check out the Original ABO Fic Rec List here. So if it was included in that one, it won't be on this one.

Just a disclaimer for all my reader insert buddies: I have been having some “issues” with reader inserts as of late so this list will be ships only. (Again, Destiel is my OTP so the list is 100% that this time) Sometimes I like some pretty ‘weird’ shit and YMMV, so always heed the tags on these. But they all have happy endings as that's what I like in a fic! (The show gives us enough unhappy endings and cliffhangers, I just want my boys to be happy! Is that too much to ask?)

It's my list so I can start with me! Check out my new fic Bringing Home the Bacon with art by @vinnie-cha for @deancastielbigbang

Omega Dean was doing just fine. He had an apartment, a good job, and a great family. But he didn’t have an alpha. When Castiel starts as his company’s new CEO everything changes. Alpha Cas becomes family, and Dean takes care of his family.

ABO office AU with Fluff, Smut and a happy ending

Also check out my short fic The Billionaire's Pregnant Mistress for @destielharlequinchallenge

Lingerie Model Dean is pregnant with his Billionaire's Alpha's pup and he doesn't know what to do. They just broke up and he doesn't want to be where he's not wanted. Spoiler Alert: Happy Ending and minimal angst.

Gravity vs Velocity by PaperAnn @paperannxo

Newton's law of universal gravitation states that any two bodies in the universe attract each other with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between the two bodies.

Dean swears he feels an honest-to-goodness gravity (not any scent-true-mates-bullshit) pulling him to a mysterious omega and makes the worst mistake of his career... he only has one thing to say...

Fuck science.

Dean is a detective and Cas is part of a mob family. They get in and out of a lot of trouble together. A must read!

A Story for Every Corner by thepinupchemist  @scarlettshazam

Dean's a late bloomer. When he presents as an omega, everyone is surprised, and everything changes. Only a few months into omegahood, Dean decides to book it. A couple of truck rides and a state later, Dean's in Apple Springs, Colorado at a bed & breakfast called The Snoozing Squirrel. The off-beat omega owner is just the beginning.

The hard part is the offbeat brother of the offbeat omega, an alpha named Castiel.

Gabe is the best, and I really love him in this fic.

For Science! by pm_lo

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

This is a crossover of Supernatural and Masters of Sex, it doesn’t use any characters from Masters of Sex, just the plot and the whole set up so you don’t need to know anything about Masters of Sex to enjoy it. It is written very differently than most fanfic (it's not lying when it says “transcripts”) but it's totally worth a read! (And go watch Masters of Sex! It's important sexual history!)

Arranged by Miss_Lv @the-miss-lv

Dean Winchester is the omega chosen to marry Castiel's son. The arranged marriage is as awkward and lackluster has Castiel expected it would be.

What he didn't expect was what would develop between himself and his new son-in-law.

So I think this one qualifies as ‘weird’ but I’ve read it at least 4 times and love it. Don’t let the infidelity bother you as (*SPOILER*) Dean never has a relationship with Castiel’s son and only has a sexual relationship with Cas.

Obsession by Miss_Lv

SPN kink meme: Castiel is John's friend and becomes fixated with his son Dean. The main thing is that as Castiel spirals into obsession Dean isn't scared but rather likes it and encourages it.

Big age difference, but Dean knows what he wants and that is Cas. Very different way of mating.

A Hole in the World by AnnelieseMichel

Dean Winchester never wanted to go home again. Going back to Lawrence meant people who knew what he was, who didn't buy into the lie. But with a tragic accident, he's back and dealing with the death of his father, the social stigma and objectification of being an out Omega, and the lingering aftermath of a long-ago crime.

This is a super long fic with lots of sexual violence against omegas. About halfway through the tone really changes and it gets super political. So if you like you ABO with a good helping of civil rights, this is the fic for you!

Take On Me by Powerfulweak

Alpha Dean Winchester figured the closest he’d get to the apple pie life and fatherhood was a one-shot, “wham-bam-thank-you-mam” trip to a sperm bank. That is, until he comes face-to-face with the omega carrying his pup on a fateful trip to the grocery store. When the the omega runs off without a word, though, Dean learns the situation is far more complicated than he expected. Can an anonymous sperm donation and the favor of a lifetime help two complete strangers find everything their life was missing?

Super cute hijinks and happy ending. What more can you want?

Violator by MooseFeels

Dean's fifteen, and his knot doesn't pop. Part 1 of Revelation

You need to read the entire series, not just the first one. It starts out dark (and Dean has a lot of issues to work through) but it has a happy ending.

No Righteous Path by jupiter_james @jupiterjames​

On his 40th birthday, Dean Winchester suddenly begins to worry that he may have lost his chance for a real mate. He's been so focused on his business as a 24-hour roofing and repairman, that he's never taken the time to date properly, or even make any lasting friendships outside of his family. Beginning in their late 30's, alphas and omegas start to lose their mating and bonding hormones, making it more difficult - and often impossible - to mate or bond with anyone past a certain age. But as a modern Alpha, Dean would be content with a companion, at least. Blood bonds aren't the be-all, end-all. However, after a late night emergency roofing repair call from Castiel Novak, Omega, Dean starts to hope. Yearn. The only hangup is that Castiel admits to being as old-fashioned as the books he teaches. Nervous to go against his religious upbringing by being with someone who he can't bond properly, as alphas and omegas are intended to do. But he can't deny his attraction to Dean, and despite his sensibilities, he thinks that, just maybe, he can change for the man he's falling in love with.

Totally LOVE this fic! Super fluffy and has a happy ending!! All the (totally necessary for plot) angst gets resolved. Its everything you (ok fine, *I*) could want in a fic. (GIVE ME ALL THE FLUFFY ABO SMUT LONG FICS!!!)

Mulder and Scully by teller_of_tales_and_hero_of_songs

Castiel Novak is an undercover FBI agent working to take down a white collar criminal named Azazel, but Castiel finds himself way out of his depths when the case takes a dangerous turn and Azazel gets involved in an omega trafficking deal. With the help of an OPA agent named Dean, the Bureau and the Omega Protection Agency take down Azazel and his seller, Dick Roman.

As it turns out, that case wasn't the last Castiel would see of Dean Winchester, and it isn't long at all before Castiel finds himself falling in love with the fiery, strong-willed omega.

Dean is quite the kickass Omega. This story is really good, and it has THE BEST first “I love you”s that I have ever read in any fic. I still laugh thinking about it!

Best Laid Plans by Persephoneshadow @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper

Things are going well for Dean: he's landed the biggest design job of his architectural career and is about to get final approval on the project despite how difficult the development company, personified by Castiel Novak, has made it. It's not bad for a moody omega...except things are also going terribly for Dean because he has to get in a plane and fly to a meeting, and course ends up in heat a few hours before. Luckily, Castiel is there to help and both men discover the good that can come when nothing goes quite as intended.

This fic is great! Dean and Cas work together but don’t meet in person until Dean has to travel for a meeting.

Get Knocked Down, Get Back Up by Unforth @unforth-ninawaters​

With an over-sensitive sense of smell, omega Dean Winchester finds the scent of most potential mates to be, frankly, nauseating. Enter alpha Castiel, who smells fracken *perfect* but has problems of his own.

As someone who in general finds most fake scents awful instead of pleasing I kinda relate to this. If my sense of smell was as good as most ABO fics I could totally see Dean being me. I love how unforth plays with sexuality and gender expectations in her fics.

Like Cats and Dogs by sweetdean

Dean Winchester, Alpha, lead Hunter for the Pack, is in need of a mate. His wolf is out of control, he's on edge, and nothing seems to be doing the trick. Dean is convinced that he'll never find a mate, but when the Pack's Council forces him to figure it out before he ends up going rogue, Dean doesn't have much of a choice. Problem is, Dean isn't interested in what the members of his pack have to offer; and that means looking elsewhere.

Dean knew his mate would have to be different. He just didn't know what "different" would really mean, and how "different" would bring his whole world crashing down on top of him.

I love werewolves! And this has a lot of weres in it!

Caribbean Wonderland by LittleAngelCassie

Dean Winchester has spent his life working towards his dream: to teach and care for omega students. But a genetic mutation from birth has kept him from his field of choice. After years of hiding under the protection of his Uncle Bobby and his younger brother Sam, Dean has finally been given a chance.

He accepts the position to care for a young orphan who needs more than just a teacher but also a fellow omega to help her traverse the changes ahead. There is always a hitch, however, and in Dean’s case it’s a hot billionaire alpha with piercing blue eyes. This remote island paradise has the opportunity to give Dean everything he’s wanted, but will he be able to rise above his own fears and the stigmas associated with his unique biological designation?

Throw away what you know about alpha/ beta/ omega dynamics because this is a brand new adventure in wonderland.

So this one is really great and it has a “new” gender designation within ABO. Super original and I totally love it.

Gray Matter by PaperAnn

It should have been a night like any other night, but for Dean Winchester this evening was different.

Tonight was his last on Earth.

The omega finally snapped; the weight of his kills moonlighting as an assassin were too heavy to carry. So he decided to set out to numb the pain with whiskey and the white noise of whatever seedy bar he randomly ambled into. Although he’d intended to drown his sorrows alone, a bold alpha (who introduced himself as Castiel) wormed his way into his party-for-one, but more importantly: his story.

After brazenly announcing that Dean’s plan to shoot himself in the head was “unoriginal,” the alpha lured him out into the bar to prove there are much more interesting and creative ways to go.

A bizarre, deranged game turns into a night of passion, and leads Dean into introspective questions he never would've asked before. Maybe everything wasn’t as black and white as he thought, maybe there’s more to his own story that he, himself, didn’t even know. The stupid fucking alpha had transformed his world into shades of gray and made him doubt everything.

You need a dark sense of humor for this one, but if you have that, this is fantastic!

[snickerl]

Elixir Vitae

AU fanfic set around the time of IWTB.

A/N: Feel free to leave a comment.It’s what keeps my little fanfiction writer’s motor running...

Find previous chapters here: Chapter I / Chapter II / Chapter III / Chapter IV / Chapter V

Chapter VI

She asked me to take her home the other day.

Well, first she asked me where our home was and what it was like, then she told me that the doctors had cleared her to leave the clinic on condition that she make an appointment with a local psychiatrist for an ambulant treatment.

So we're approaching our house now, stirring up the dirt on the gravel road behind us. It hasn't rained in weeks and the soil is dry. She threw me a questioning look every time I took a turn further away from the city and farther out into the countryside. She furrowed her brows when I opened the gate to our premises and she's staring at our unremarkable house which comes into sight now that we've climbed the little hill that keeps it from view from the street.

"It's kinda rural, isn't it?" she states the obvious.

"We like it that way," I simply tell her. Now is not the time to explain what brought us here.

I steer the car directly in front of the porch and kill the engine. We sit in silence for a moment. Scully leans forward and peeks through the windshield at the house. She doesn't move and I can't say why. Maybe she expected something completely different. Maybe she's waiting for the memories to appear. Maybe she's afraid to take this next step toward her old life, a life she still knows so little about.

Eventually, I decide to make her take it. So I get out of the car, walk around the back in order not to block her view, open the passenger door and hold my hand out to her. When she takes it, I pull her out of the car and up the few steps onto the porch. Holding her hand, I keep the screen open with my hip and fumble the keys out of my pocket. I open the front door and step inside, but she remains rooted to the doorstep. It feels like a jab into the stomach to realize that she's apprehensive to enter her own house.

"Come on, Scully. No need to worry, I cleaned up," I coax her, and she smiles.

She lets me pull her inside, letting go of my hand when she's three steps from the front door. She puts her hands in her pants pockets, looks around, takes in the surroundings. She looks like someone on a house viewing, asking herself whether she could feel comfortable living in this house. Then, to my immense relief, she says, "I like it."

"You do?"

"Yes, it's homey."

"I hoped you'd say that."

She stretches her hand out to me. "Care to give me a tour?"

I show her around and I see her smile at little things, like the vase with fresh flowers I put on the dining room table or the painting on the wall we got at the local flea market. When she sees the pencils stuck in the ceiling of my office, she throws me a puzzled look but doesn't say anything. Shit, I should've taken them down!

Another tricky moment is when I show her our bedroom. Her eyes rest a bit too long on the bed for me to let it pass without comment. "You'll have the bed to yourself. I, uh...I will sleep downstairs on the couch."

"You don't have to," she says contrary to my expectations. "I mean, it's a big bed, and we're married. If you promise not to try anything, I guess we can give it a shot, don't you think?"

Oh yes, baby, we can!

I've been sleeping alone in this bed for too long. Although it will be difficult to keep my hands off her, not to spoon her and pull her close until her back warms my chest, but I'm more than willing to pretend I'm a monk, so "Sure!" is all I croak.

She moves forward and takes a look at the bathroom.

"Aww, a tub! Wonderful!"

"You insisted we'd get a tub. There wasn't one when we bought the house."

"I only had a shower at the clinic. I so wanted to take a bath every now and then," she tells me.

"Why don't you draw one right away? Take your time and relax a little. I get your things up here."

"Oh, I'd love to!"

"Go ahead then! You find your clothes in the closet over there," I point to an antique piece of furniture we bought in a little shop a few miles down the road, "your underwear is in the bottom drawer."

My last remark makes her blush which is so cute but also a bit sad. I can't believe we're at a point where me speaking of her underwear causes a reaction of uneasiness.

I open the cabinet under the sink and hand her a bottle of bath foam. "Here, this is your favorite."

She takes it from me, her fingers grazing mine shortly.

"Thank you, Fox. You're really sweet."

When she comes down after her bath I'm preparing dinner. She found her clothes obviously. She's dressed in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, her hair is put together in a ponytail. Her face is cleared of all the makeup and I can see the freckles I've always loved. They make her look so pure and raw, so charmingly girlish.

She's beautiful. The mole on her upper lip is drawing me in. It's the appealing sensual counterpart to the innocent freckles. I never understood why she covered it up. I find it very sexy.

"Hey," she says, "you cook? It seems I've found myself the perfect husband."

I could tell her that I had enough time to practice cooking when I still had to hide and couldn't leave the house, but I don't. It's our first evening at home together, and I don't want to spoil it with tales of government conspiracies.

"I made chicken salad with low-fat dressing and pasta primavera. And before you ask, you like it," I say with a grin.

"You know my favorites better than I do."

I think I know where the slight sad ring to her voice is coming from. It must feel awkward to have someone else tell you what you like and what you don't.

"It'll all come back to you, Scully. I'm sure of it."

She shoots me a weak but thankful smile.

We have our dinner mostly in silence. It's a comfortable silence, one that settles easily as we're both enjoying our time together. She compliments me on the food and I talk her into having some ice cream for dessert, that's mostly it. When the table is cleared and the dishes are done, I pour us two glasses of wine and ask her to come outside and sit with me on the porch swing to watch the sunset.

"Don't tell me that this is my favorite spot of the house, Fox, even if it is. Please," she begs.

I can hear how unsettled she is, that feeling like a stranger in her own house is taking its toll on her.

"Actually, it's mine," I reply, and it's the truth. I've always loved the moments we spent out here, her body leaned against mine or her feet on my lap, watching the sun setting slowly behind the little hill. We spent many nights out here, wrapped in a blanket, staring up the starry sky.

"Sit with me, Scully," I encourage her, and she places herself next to me. I hand her the wine, she takes a tiny sip, then sets the glass down on the porch without saying a word. We both stare at the horizon, waiting for the sun to finally set. The temperature falls a few degrees as soon as the sun is gone, but it's still agreeably warm outside.

I wouldn't mind sitting like this for hours with her beside me. We could talk about the constellations in the night sky or about some other harmless topic, peacefully concluding this day that marks a significant step back to our original daily routine. I can sense her exhaustion, though. She leans herself heavily against my torso, her hands rest on her lap, and her short legs dangle limply off the swing.

"You're tired," I declare.

"I am," she admits. "I took my medication before I came out. It always makes me drowsy."

I didn't know. I was never around for her nightly routine as long as she was in the clinic, had always left before she started getting ready for bed.

"We should call it a night, Scully. It's been a long day for you. Do you still intend to share the bed? I wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch, really."

She contemplates for a moment. "I'd actually appreciate if I didn't have to sleep alone. I think I could use some caring tonight."

"No problem, I have a lot of caring to give." I smile at her and she smiles back. "I'll give you a head start to the bathroom and join you in a bit. I'll just finish my wine."

When I'm at the threshold to our bedroom about twenty minutes later, I have to steady myself against the doorframe, taking in the wonderful sight that's offered to me.

The space on the side of the bed which was empty and cold for months is filled again with the tiny body I missed so much. Scully is lying at her side of the bed with her back to me. She can't see I'm watching her, so I can take my time. I wonder whether it's a coincidence she actually chose her side. Her robe is thrown over the backrest of the chair in the corner, there's a glass of water on her nightstand, and the comforter is folded back like she has always folded it back...everything is like it used to be, how it's supposed to be, and I'm indescribably happy.

I know I'm not allowed to make love to her tonight. She asked for comfort, not for passion. I will give her comfort. It won't be easy to keep my desires in check, but I'll give her what she needs. What she needs the most is time, and I can wait. I waited seven years for us to stand by our feelings, I waited three months for her to be returned to me, I can wait however long it takes for her to feel safe enough with me to let me love her again.

"How much longer are you going to stand there?" she mumbles sleepily. "Come to bed."

I clear my throat, can't help feeling caught. I'm not even sure whether I thought what I just thought or whether I actually voiced it.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you awake."

"You're not keeping me awake, but I need you in here. Get changed and come to bed," she demands silently but with determination, and I am thrilled.

I hurry into the bathroom, brush my teeth, splash some cold water on my face, put on some flannel pajama pants and a fresh t-shirt, and return to the bedroom. I slip under the covers and are greeted by a warmth inexperienced during the past months, a warmth only the body of the female you love can provide. Not that I didn't try surrogates - hot-water bottle, heating pad, thermal blanket - but nothing worked.

I don't know how close she wants me, so I lie on my back and position myself right next to her without touching her. Close enough to feel the body heat she radiates and close enough to hopefully offer her the kind of protection and comfort she was looking for when she invited me in, but also far enough not to intimidate her. I learned my lesson from the frenzied first kiss and the story of Skinner catching us in the act.

Suddenly, I notice she's reaching behind, searching for me. I offer her my hand and she grabs it. She pulls it toward her, taking me with it, and before I know it, I am spooned behind her, my front perfectly aligned with her back. I'm in heaven. I feel my body melting into hers, clinging to it as if my life depended on it.

And then I feel something building up in my groin and I curse myself. I instantly direct my thoughts to dirty laundry and greasy pizza cartons in an effort to cool down, to keep my arousal low-key, but it's fruitless. Eventually, I pull my pelvis back a little, to prevent my erection from poking into her backside, but it's too late.

"It's alright, Fox," she mumbles, already half-asleep, "it's a natural reaction. Where there is a stimulus, there is a response. When certain receptors are sensorily or mentally stimulated, the brain sends signals to trigger a hormonal response. Neurons convey the message through the central nervous system and cause a reaction, there's not so much one can do about it. The male erection is nothing but a biochemical reaction."

Well, hello there, Science-Scully!

"I feel honored to be a stimulus to your central nervous system, Fox, given the condition I'm in."

What? A stimulus to my central nervous system?

My arousal doesn't feel like a simple sober textbook biochemical reaction. Not at all! It feels like a divine force capturing my body. I know that seeing me as a receptor of external stimuli and my body as a conveyor of neuronal messages helps her to deal with the situation. Her wounded soul tells her she wants me near but her head cannot really cope with my reaction to the nearness. By allowing me to be so close, it's impossible for her to overlook my love and devotion, and being unable to reciprocate my feelings, chalking them up to a biochemical reaction is her coping mechanism toward finding her inner equilibrium. I totally understand, even if it's almost physically painful to suppress my bodily reaction.

I brush a gentle kiss on her cheek close to the corner of her mouth. I can feel it rise into a slight smile.

"Go to sleep, Scully. I'm gonna get this under control, I promise." I'll have to help myself getting rid of the tension probably. Later, when she's asleep.

"I know. I trust you," she says, and pulls me close again, "good night, Fox."

"Good night, Scully."

to be continued

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Sixth Christmas

the series is as follows so far:

First … Second … Third … Fourth … Fifth … Fifth Christmas, Part 2 … Sixth … Seventh … Eighth … Ninth … Tenth … Eleventh … Twelfth … Thirteenth … Fourteenth … Fifteenth … Sixteenth … Seventeenth … Eighteenth … Nineteenth … Twentieth … Twenty-first … Twenty-second … Twenty-third

———————–

After the monster that was Rob Roberts, they ended up with a layover in Chicago. Mulder looked out the window at the waiting area, decided he wanted to see Chicago and turned to Scully, suggesting they should stay there, check out the wonders of the Christmas season in the Windy City.

She’d only said they’d better do it on their dime and not the FBI’s. He’d agreed wholeheartedly, given he really didn’t want to have to explain to accounting why he had a room with a Jacuzzi tub and had raided the mini-bar within an inch of its life.

It was a medium-sized nightmare to get their luggage off the plane but between two badges, authoritative voices and a wee bit of lying, they were soon in a hastily rented compact car, Mulder with his knees up around his ears as he tried to drive. She’d offered to drive but he turned her down, saying this was his idea, he’d deal with the unfamiliar city and heinous traffic.

While they waited for their luggage, Mulder had cruised the shops of the concourse, then asked two separate security guards and an on-break ticket agent about hotels and returned soon enough with a destination, directions and the keys to their car.

Scully nearly protested when he told her he’d found a place but when he flashed her his gold credit card and said it was his treat, she stopped worrying. Mulder may have a penchant for flea-infested nightmares when it came to the government’s dime but when he shopped for himself, he usually went classier than Tom and Bob’s Trave-Lodge.

Traffic wasn’t the total nightmare she’d been expecting. It was far worse but given all she had to do was look out the window and enjoy the views, she began relaxing while Mulder quietly wished death upon all those that drove in his way.

Her first grinding halt occured when she saw where they were staying had the hotel name on the front glass doors … and an honest-to-God man, in uniform no less, opening that door for them, greeting them with a hat tilt and a smile. He had to gently nudge her to get her moving through the door.

Her second grinding halt, which caused him to run directly into her, happened when a young man of no more than 20 scurried over and took her bag, including her satchel, as Mulder liked to refer to it and she argued every time that it was a handbag.

Her third and final grinding halt came when the bill slid across the smoother the glass mahogany check-in desk, the fleeting number of $548 meeting her wide-eyed gaze before disappearing discreetly under Mulder’s hand as he easily scrawled his name across the bottom. Whispering in her ear, “I like that I can still surprise you,” he put his hand to her elbow and turned her from the desk to the elevator.

She didn’t even seem to notice the woman standing inside, pushing the button for the 15 floor for them and he leaned over, grinning, “not gonna comment on the elevator lady?”

“Still processing it has more than two floors and needs an elevator.”

His smile continued as he got them in the room, Scully taking a minute to register that he didn’t let her in her own room. About to ask, he beat her to it, “so I got the jacuzzi suite which has a full size pull out sofa as well as a king-size bed. Figured I could take one and you could take the other and we could share the tub.”

There was a hot flash of muscle-twinging anticipation that shot through her before she got things under control, turning to him with a cool exterior that he saw right through, “you should have told me to pack a bathing suit.”

“We’re about two blocks of the main strip. I think we can find you one if need be.” The ‘need be’ hung there between Mulder’s grin and her raised eyebrow. Finally, he started towards her, smile widening, “want to go shopping now or should we jump right in?”

Finally, her face began heating, her cheeks first, then the slow creep of it over her scalp, across her ears and down her neck, “I’m leaning towards the shopping part.”

Coming in closer, “does that mean you could be properly persuaded to lean the other way?”

“Shopping, Mulder. Let’s go shopping.”

&&&&&&&

She’d been to Chicago before but only driven through, always on her way to somewhere else. Looking around, she ignored the frigid wind blowing through her inadequate coat, given they’d just flown in from L.A., and savored the lights, the people, the sheer envelopment of a city in a holiday that made the human race seem just a little nicer, a little calmer, a little better.

While Mulder grumbled because he got whacked in the back with a stranger’s gift of golf clubs.

Winding her arm through his, she lay her head on his jacket-encased bicep briefly as she smiled, “glad you stayed in Chicago still?”

“I’ll be better once we find you a bathing suit and that guy gets his clubs home in one piece without trying to kill anyone else.” She then felt him pull her a little closer, “cold?”

“Freezing but I don’t mind … not yet anyway.” With a glance upwards at the store they were walking past, he pulled her inside, bought her a hat, scarf, mittens and a thick, cable-knit sweater big enough to go over her light coat, her thin pullover, two small children and a tiny, independent nation. As he stood out of the way by the door, he gestured for her to take off her coat, which she did so, an incredulous look of ‘really?’ plastered on her face as he took it, draping it over his arm. Then, in a smooth, ‘I’m 5 and going to dress you’ motion, he dropped the sweater over her head, tugging down until her face emerged, hair askew, fuzz in her eyes and smile as wide as her cheeks would allow. His grin equaled her as she wrestled her arms into the sleeves, finally speaking again once she was dressed, “kinda big, isn’t it?”

“I bought it for me and am generously letting you borrow it. You can thank me later.” As he did the same with the mittens, hat and scarf, he declared her ready for the cold, “all set?”

Looking from the thick, Irish-knit, cabled, fisherman sweater to her flimsy, folded coat, “pretty sure I can’t get that back on, no matter how hard I try.”

He immediately began scanning the store, skimming over the employees and customers who had been watching with amusement the entire time, “do you see any winter coats?”

Scully, with embarrassment beginning to creep up her cheeks, simply held open the bag from the store, “just put my coat in here. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ve got enough European sheep wool on me to live through nuclear winter.”

His goofy grin returned and taking her mittened hand in his, he escorted her out of the store, “I’ll expect that back the minute we get home.”

“Sure. Fine. Of course.”

Both knew that wasn’t going to happen but they had a routine so why mess with it.

Soon, they found a shop that, to Scully’s complete surprise, sold bathing suits in December … and fairly cheaply, too. Well, it wouldn’t break her bank account completely but it would bend it well enough. Denying Mulder his request to see the suits modeled, she didn’t even show him which she’d picked and purchased, shooing him to the front of the store to wait. Instead, he headed outside after letting her know, looking in surrounding store windows and ducking in the one next door before returning to his position by the door of the bathing suit place.

The sweater kept her fairly warm, all but when the wind blew its coldest, off the water, making her teeth chatter slightly but not enough to tip Mulder off she wasn’t all toasty. She did, however, stop dead in her tracks when they ambled past a bakery, complete with hot chocolate, cinnamon rolls and cute little table by the window that she bet would make Mulder seem like a giant if she got him to sit down at one. Tugging his sleeve, she pointed inside, the steam collecting at the corners of the front windows and calling to her with the promise of warmth and chocolate and sugar.

Soon, much to her amusement, Mulder was indeed settled at a tiny table with his gigantic cup of cocoa and equally large blueberry Danish, looking, as she had thought previous, like a giant … but a friendly one. He laughed, he joked, he captured both her legs between his on the pretense of warming those skinny, little sticks up with his calves and magical thoughts.

The contact was enough. Magical thoughts would have set her on fire.

They had to leave eventually, however, mostly because the waitress/counter woman kept pointedly looking at them, shooing them with her eyes so she could have their table for the torrent of customers that kept passing through. Bundling back up, they mutually decided to head back towards the hotel, the sun having set and the wind blowing even colder. Scully didn’t balk at the fanciness of the hotel this time, instead talking to the elevator operator and the doorman, laying on easy smiles, friendly banter and perfect Scully charm.

He really should have kissed her in the elevator but he had plans for that for New Years.

If he made it that long.

&&&&&&

Mulder, honest to God, always did bring his swimsuit. Not the Speedo but his normal, to the knees blue-green-yellow suit with the drawstring that never stayed tied. Changing first, he came out of the bathroom with his eyes shut, the Jacuzzi faucet filling the room with a rushing noise that he had to talk loudly over to be heard, “you decent?”

“Depends of how much liquor I’ve had and the company I’m keeping.”

Mulder stumbled, opening his eyes a fraction too late and tripping over what had to be the stupidest placed chair in the history of hotels, “I … um, I meant if you were in your suit yet so I could open my eyes but while on the subject, what kind of company am I?”

Safely in her modest, one-piece suit, she gave him a look that would pass mere mortals by but set Mulder’s heart thudding heavily, his eyes unfocusing for a fraction of a second.

And she knew it, too.

She left him standing in the middle of the room while she retrieved towels, then stepping into the hot water, her cold skin hurting for a moment at the drastic temperature change but settling in, she sighed and shut her eyes, the steam curling her hair instantly.

Mulder thought about baseball while he climbed in across from her, turning the water off when it reached a good depth. The sudden silence pushed on his ears, that stuffy cotton feeling he hated forcing him to speak, “so, that was a really good Danish.”

Scully let out a burst of laughter, nearly sliding under the water in the process but saving herself by stretching her feet to the low seat Mulder was on, then, needing better purchase, she settled her feet against his knees. Finally stable, she looked at him, amusement obvious, “yes, that Danish was very good but I prefer the cinnamon rolls myself.”

Giving her a grin, “I just hate that first few seconds when it goes from loud to quiet. Had to fill in the space.”

She squeezed his knees with her toes, “I know. Just having some fun. Although,” reaching over for the control buttons, “you could have just turned on the bubbles.”

The smile grew wider, “I forgot about those. Sitting in a glorified bathtub with you in our room in Chicago pretty much pushed my brain capacity to its limit.”

As the bubbles began to churn, she reclined back once again, head against the side, “I pretty much stopped thinking when you said we were sharing a room but I never forget bubbles.”

Yes, yes, he was never going to sleep tonight.

&&&&&&&&&&&

He did.

Even after she told him to get his ass in the king size bed because the sofa was bound to be lumpy and she had at least five feet of room he could probably squeeze himself into.

Mulder debated.

He lost.

He jumped in beside her.

And nearly bounced her right out the other side. Giggling an uncharacteristically beautiful giggle, “if you want me out of bed, just ask.”

Wiggling to settle in, he looked up at her from his pillow, “I will never, ever ask you to get out of my bed, trust me.”

“Trust no on, Mulder.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Reaching out to poke him in the cheek, “you didn’t let me finish. There’s a tiny asterisk that you didn’t know about. It says, “Trust No One asterisk except Mulder ‘cause he’s the only one I trust … that and my mother … and possibly the Gunmen depending on the day of the week and how many times Frohike looked at me like I’m Sunday dinner dowsed in gravy.”

“That is a very long asterisk.”

“Very tiny writing.”

Her turn to get comfortable, they lay there in silence for a few minutes before Mulder jumped back up, jiggling the bed once again. Eyeing him in the dark as he dug in first one pocket, then the next of his coat, he pulled out a bag, then got back under the covers, handing it to her, “I bought this for you while you were getting your bathing suit.” Sitting up, she automatically reaching for the nightstand light, he stopped her, “it’ll look better in the dark.”

Intrigued, she opened the bag, then the paper wrapped item inside, finding a small, faceted glass heart that Mulder reached over to turn on at the bottom. Suddenly, the softest red-gold light filled the hollow area, sparkling against her face as she stared, a small smile spreading slowly, never reaching full capacity but stopping at just above amazed. He loved that smile and watching her eyes take in the sparkles and glints, he reached over, running his fingers over her cheek, her chin, fingering one particularly stubborn curl at her temple, playing with the ends of her hair until he let his hand fall back to land on her thigh.

His palm on her leg brought her out of her imagination, which pictured him hanging it on her tree for the next 70 years, their kids, grandkids, great-grand kids opening gifts under while it twinkled above in the branches. Seeing it so clearly made her head spin and turning to him, she leaned in, catching him with a kiss so quick yet so firm against his mouth that when she was gone, he never doubted she’d been there.

He didn’t go back for another but sat staring at her while she stared back, her smile going wider than it had been a moment earlier, “I love it. Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.”

After gazing for another few seconds, Scully turned the ornament off, setting in on the table beside her, “g’night, Mulder.”

Mulder knew, instinctively and because he wasn’t a complete idiot, that when she snuggled down and left her right hand extended across the mattress that yes, he was supposed to hold it.

So he did.

And watched her until she fell asleep.

While she watched him.

[crossedbeams]

My Last Word on Gillovny/Gilligan/UGH

Or a treatise on double standards, confirmation bias and FOR FUCKS SAKE IT’S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS.

I KEEP getting asks about this, and on anon so I can’t answer privately so this is the post that I go out on in terms of trying to explain myself. I will just link back to this.

Yes. I used to be be Gillovny. Pretty hardcore, it’s a lovely freindship and I’m a romantic. But then the landscape changed, and gradually so did my view. Now, if I had to put money on it, I guess I’d back Peter Morgan, but I also refuse to reduce any woman, especially one as boss ass as Gillian Anderson, to who she is dating. 

The rest is going under the cut. Beware, I may use actual rational reasoning so if that kinda stuff offends you, look away and unfollow me, because I am done with the Trump style “information” and “fact” going around.

Why I started believing in Gillovny: The first non MSR interaction I saw between GA & DD was Kimmel. It was cute, there seemed to be a lot of cute, I’m a romantic, their history is interesting, their friendship lovely and neither of them was linked to anyone else.

Why I stopped believing in Gillovny (the romance): It stopped adding up. For me, the fact that there have never been any public sightings, and that they denied it was always my sticking point. While all the other “evidence” was cute, add someone that Gillian is being seen with to the mix and suddenly the balance switches. So I stepped back, but I still believed I could participate in the “gillovny” fandom, by appreciating their wonderful friendship.

Turns out I was wrong.

And here’s why.

The second I posted a picture of Gillian and Peter Morgan, at an actual real life thing where they both were, just because it was a nice picture, I had people screaming at me for shoving it in their face, for being gross, anting to know why I would believe they were dating.

And I was like WHUT. I thought maybe it was kneejerk, people upset that maybe the thing they’d shipped might not be real. I figured it would calm down. I left it alone.

But as time passes, it hasn’t, all that has happened is the fandom has been arbitrarily divided in to “us” and “them”. “Us” being the people who still ardently believe in Gillovny, and them being.... well anyone else.

And even that wouldn’t be so bad, I don’t expect people to agree with me on everything but I do expect them to respect my space, and respect the people they claim to care about. Which is what is not happening anymore.

THE DOUBLE STANDARD OF “PROOF”

This is how it works.

If Gillian is seen with a man at an event.

The man is DD - OMG! CUTE! THEY’RE IN LOVE!

The man is PM - UGH. Promo. Get him off my dash.

So far not so bad right? People don’t have to like PM. That’s fine, They maybe shouldn’t be so damn rude about his looks because, are we really that shallow, but people are gonna be nasty. But then the other side of the coin.

If Gillian is seen without a man at an event.

If the absent man is DD - well of course - they are keeping their love a secret. They have to.

If the absent man is PM - see, they're not together, if he loved her he would be there to support her work.

Umm... this doesn’t add up. And it gets more ridiculous.

The fact that Gillian and David have not been seen, spotted, given a joint anything since August last year.

Gillovny - Well that’s because we know that when they’re both quiet they’re together. Their love is secret remember.

Gilligan - Have been seen. Multiple times. And photographed. But this has been explained away by a (frankly insane) theory about cross promotion.

This is just the beginning, the double standard runs so deep (handholding for “Gillovny” is proof that they’re together. For “Gilligan” it’s him dragging her like an animal. Gillian looking happily at DD is eysex, at PM it’s “oh she’s looking over his head at someone off camera”). 

It. is. insane. 

But the thing is, a lot of us here are a little insane. So I wouldn’t even hold that against the people who want to stay in the Gillovny camp. YOu can believe what you want to believe.

Where I CANNOT stand by, is at the double standard facing bloggers.

THE DOUBLE STANDARD OF ACCOUNTABILITY

I get it, Gillovny is old, it will probably always have a place in some people’s hearts. But that does NOT mean it is right, or that talking about, or posting pictures of either Gillian or David with anyone else is in someway “wrong”.

I regularly have to scroll pass Gillovny RPF on my dash, it skeeves me out these days, but I scroll past. I’m a big girl.

But when a photograph, an actual literal, real life picture of two people at an event is posted, and reblogged, it’s as if the people reblogging it have posted snuff porn images or something. 

This literally happened. You can interpret it how you like, but implying that reality is shameful/gross/equivalent to RPF/headcanons is so fucked up. It just so happens that the most recent pictures of Gillian in public have Peter Morgan in them. So as a Gillian blog I am going to reblog them. Deal with it. 

People are entitled to their stories. But they should acknowledge them as such. Opinions, and strings of coincidences with a nice narrative are not the same as “the truth”. You can’t ask for a pass for your shipper headcanon and then reject actual happenings as gross and inappropriate. That’s ridiculous.

And it gets worse, because here is the kicker.

IT’S FINE TO TRY AND CONVINCE PEOPLE GILLOVNY IS REAL, TO ACTIVELY PROMOTE THE THEORY AS TRUTH. BUT YOU CAN’T EVEN MENTION THAT PETER MORGAN EXISTS AS A HUMAN WITHOUT CALLING DOWN THE WRATH OF THE FANDOM

I have never seen posted, or posted myself, anything to try and “convince” anyone that Gilligan is real. I have reblogged pictures of them together, because they’re nice pictures. I have said Gillian looks happy, because she does, there are also lots of solo pics in my happy Gillian tag (Implying the only person she can look happy with is DD is just... nope. ) All I have done, is reblog reality with my thoughts, and the odd utterly ridiculous, obviously a joke, thing from the one blog that seems to have a sense of humour about the thing.

But I don’t message people on anon, or otherwise, and try and explain away their point of view. I don’t pick everything I see or hear about Gillian apart to try an prove my point or disprove the opinions of those who want to believe in Gillovny. Some blogs have made it their mission to analyse to death every image, tweet and maybe sighting to prove their point is valid. And every one of those blogs falls on the Gillovny side. Some days it makes me think that they lack the conviction of their own belief, to need to try and undermine anything that doesn’t fit their narrative, and other days I think they’re just bored, or grieving, but most days I try not to think on it at all. 

Instead, I just blog what I want to, try to be respectful, and am constantly flabbergasted to have that thrown back in my face.

If not believing in Gillovny makes me a bad person, then I guess I’m a bad person. If posting pictures of actual events makes me gross, then I guess I’m gross. If saying when things go to far, and pointing out inconsistencies of reason and blatant lies being peddled as fact is “bullying” then I guess I’m a bully.

But I don’t think I’m any of those things. I think I’m a thoughtful person, with my own mind, who tries to respect others but also stands up for decent behaviour and sound reasoning. I laugh at things that are funny, I yell at things that are gross and I often fuck up.

I will not be shamed into silence by a noisy minority, who seem to feel that their opinion is not only “fact” but a fact that everyone must buy into. I will not stop posting pictures that don’t “fit” into that world view. I will not apologise for laughing at what has become ridiculous. 

Because make no mistake, it has become a farce. Just because you say something enough times and all your friends say it too and loudly, that thing does not become true. Its the tactic Trump is employing, that we all ridicule him for but seem incapable of spotting in our own backyard. Facts and real happenings can’t be “fake”,. they’re facts. Dana Scully is rolling her eyes so hard at this right now that she’s likely sprained something.

In conclusion... if all this doesn’t sound like something you can stomach, unfollow me, block me, but just stay out of my inbox and off my posts. It’s tacky, and I hate it.

[mcrmadness]

4, 11, 18 & 26 for the non american ask^^

Thanks! :D

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

Does rye bread count? You just can't get the perfect type of rye bread from anywhere else than from Finland, and I think also Estonia loves their rye bread? There's probably some dark breads in Scandinavia too but I feel like they might be a bit sweeter, which is not my favorite. (They also had rye bread in Poland when I visited there, and it was fine but not like the one I've got used to here :D)

The typical, good Finnish rye bread is almost or only 100% rye and it's slightly sour. I usually eat only rye bread that is 100% rye because the wheat there is totally pointless and if it's not wholegrain, it's just... basically same as putting sugar in the bread, (the wheat there) has absolutely no nutritional value.

***

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Hmm. I don't like poems in any language and apparently this is something I've had since I was a little kid because I always took some Finnish poetry books from the bookshelf (my mom loves poems, especially this author's) and yeeted it to somewhere in the room............. I just didn't like having it in the bookshelf at all XD

I also haven't really read any books from Finnish authors. I don't think we have THAT big of a scene, it's quite difficult to be any kind of artist in Finland cos you have to do so much work for that and it still might not be enough. I guess most here do several things, or write a book as a sidejob because it might be impossible to make a living with that. The first and latest book written by a Finn (Antti Holma) was this autobiography by someone who started as an actor, but doesn't even live in Finland anymore because this country just doesn't offer him suitable work anymore, and he can still write occassionally when living abroad. I liked the book tho, but I don't know if I he is the best answer for this when his books are literally the only two books written by a Finn that I have read.

I own more of non-fiction by Finns, but mainly those are just horse related books, e.g. about the history of Finnhorse, or horse training books from an animal trainer Tuire Kaimio, and her books were my first touch to "natural horsemanship" when I was 13.

Also, Finland of course has a long history of writers, there's lots of big names and altho I like reading, I'm so bad at reading books people label as classics. I haven't read any of those books that "every Finn has read". Like, no... I'm not interested in most of the topics, I even hated Kalevala (our natural epic) at school because I hate poems so much that I was crying blood (also from my ears) whenever I had to hear those super annoying Kalevala rhymes.

***

The rest of the stuff under the cut.

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

Yes!!! I'm from the East Finland and from an area where there is no particular dialect but it's like a mixture of all the Eastern dialects, and there's lots of variety already within the area of my municipality (the other end speaks slightly differently than the other end, and I live here in the middle :D). So this is really a mix of Savonian, South- and North-Karelian and I think something might come here from the Central Finland too.

I'm also extremely fond of dialects and my paternal grandma was from South Osthrobothnian, very close to the West coast, and I just recently talked about it with my mom and she said that altho my grandma lived and also died here in the East (and I was born here and have lived my whole life here so far), she absolutely hated the Savonian dialect and always said that she's not going to start talking in it EVER XD And she didn't! She always talked in her South Ostrobothnian dialect and altho I don't really remember much of that - I was 13 when she died - I guess it still is so strongly in my genes because every time I hear that dialect somewhere, I just feel like I had gone home and I feel so warm inside! Also I relate so strongly to the stereotype of West Finnish people, they're said to be very reliable and honest, and I'm a nice mixture of that AND the Savonian stereotypes too. ("A cunning Savonian", for example, lol. Apparently it has something to do with the dialect/worrisome nature of us and we not really giving straight answers, even if it wasn't even actually LYING - there's also a saying that "When a Savonian is speaking, the listener is in charge.")

That's also why I have, unintentionally, adopted lots of the Ostrobothnian dialect into how I speak, so my personal dialect is not only what people here normally speak, but also has lots of features from the Ostrobothnian dialects.

When I write online, I often clean up my dialect a bit because this Eastern dialect is actually really, really strong. I love how it (also) sounds, it has this very relaxed sound to it, like there's no worries in the world? I love it. So when I write, I write a bit closer to the common spoken Finnish, but when I start speaking... my dialect gets very strong again. Sometimes, if I'm nervous, I go more into the cleaner version because this dialect is also very noticeable and usually whenever I speak it somewhere else, people will comment on it because West Finns often find it so funny or cute sounding - or the opposite, some find it extremely obnoxious and wish no one would speak in it :D Actually if I see anyone commenting how annoying the dialect is, I start talking or writing in it even more strongly on purpose XD

Another funny thing I have noticed about how I speak is that, well, in Finnish the 1st pronoun is "minä", most people say "mä", but in my dialect it's "mie". I have always found that fun to say, but I have never liked writing it. Whenever I did comics or wrote stories/fanfiction in Finnish, I always wrote "mä". I just could not hear "mie" with them. But lately I have noticed that when I want to talk about me in a written form, like a comment on youtube, writing "mie" will give away immediately that I'm from the East and the dialect will piss off people. Sometimes they even come to comment to me something racist about Russia altho I have no connections to Russia? My whole family tree is from Finland, I might even have some roots in Germany, actually. So I very often have now replaced that with "ite" when I write - it comes from the word "itse" which, well, it's easiest to translate into German as it means "selbst". So basically I say "I myself...", but I use it like a pronoun because you can do that in Finnish, and it gives me the opportunity to avoid using "mie" and sounding "childhish", but still I have a pronoun there. Fortunately in Finnish you can also leave out the 1st and 2nd pronouns but when I add "ite" there, it kinda just emphasizes the verb even more.

Omfg I love languages and linguistics and dialects so much, I could just keep going about Finnish dialects and mine but I could imagine it being very difficult to comprehend if you don't have any existing knowledge over Finnish overall! :D

***

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

Very rarely, currently I can't remember any that would have not had Finnish people working with it. Usually Finland is not really known in the US, I think not everyone even in Europe know what or where is Finland even, so usually any time this country gets mentioned somewhere, everyone goes crazy.

There's probably not a single video on youtube without at least one comment going "Suomi mainittu, torilla tavataan!" if Finland has been mentioned in the video. That phrase means "Finland mentioned, let's meet at the market place!" I even use this tag in Tumblr whenever I see some random post with lots of notes and someone mentions Finland (and the someone is not Finnish themselves).

Actually, now I just remembered something! In The X-Files there has been a mention a few times! I don't remember anything else but this one episode about a chess player boy, and Scully says "Helsinki syndrome", which is an alternative/old name for "Stockholm syndrome" :D Always have to throw a party after that line XD (Jk :D)

There's also this one time when Conan O'Brien made fun of Finns on tv, and he got a bunch of angry letters from Finns and he actually apologized on tv :D Then, I don't remember if it was before or after that, he noticed he actually looks a lot like Tarja Halonen, who was our president at the time, and he made some jokes about that and in the end he actually visited Finland and even met with her, a few times :D That was HUUUUGE for us Finns XD I remember watching the episode of his visit to Finland with my family lmao.

Now I also remembered something else... SO TYPICAL OF ME :DDD ...also typical of me to forget it right after remembering it. Wtf was it again? Oh yeah! I watched lots of Jackass and Viva La Bam when I was a teenager, and it was so exciting to see how excited Bam Margera was over Finland, because he was really into Finnish (metal) music. He even once made a movie, which wasn't that interesting tbh, called "Where the F* is Santa?" and it was kinda sweet of him how he got so angry every time someone said Santa Claus comes from the North Pole, because he knew he comes from Rovaniemi, Finland instead, and he tried so hard to pronounce the name correctly and corrected everyone who thought Santa doesn't come from Finland :DD

Okay I think this is ENOUGH ::D

[spiralguide]

hiveswap liveblog part 1

- the home screen music is so pretty! love the harp + piano + synth strings combo and the chord progs. reminds me a bit of the sims opening music somehow - ooh that opening noise was quite undertale esque - fucksake my laptop can't play the opening cutscene :I :I i guess im in a room now. some nice monstery bg sound

BEDROOM - roxy is the babysitter i guess? and their dad is gpa harley? - oh wow joey actually goes to school that's slightly jarring. breaks the isolated feel you get from the comic - oh look a fiduspawn reference. there's a cheruby key in there. ok - couple of misses with the writing style so far for me but some good hits. - what the fuck there's a manthro chap there. solid "what a daring dream" and pony pals references - there's so much to look at why is there so much to look at - damn that outside landscape is pretty! - more misses. man it's hard to avoid the fact that a walkaround game written by hussie would have been hilarious. but then if it were written by hussie i would be being much less critical of it so maybe not a fair comparison - ok jude using walkie talkie speak is cute. the joke of him being way too serious about this is pretty funny and his dialogue is landing well w me - wow was that... a misspelling. on 'material'

HALLWAY - good god that's a lot of crap in the hallway. i hope i don't have to click on all of it - I LIKE THIS MUSIC. I REALLY LIKE THE GLOCKENSPIELY MIDDLE 8. the staccato string chords remind me of something from the homestuck soundtracks but i can't think what - what the fuck is the signless doing in the hallway - the geography of this hallway is not immediately clear but it opens out on a landing which is why both directions of an apparent fork go the same way - more stuff is landing w me. tho some of the LOOK / ACTION choices seem a bit confusing and superfluous - what are pogs.... google says milk caps. is this a weird american thing - the significance of the mulder/scully preferences was lost on me because i don't know which is which lmao i am a fake nerd - "i better shake a leg" what. does that mean. hurry up?  - this is a VERY pretty game i have to say

ATTIC - oh gpa harley hangs out up here? this is weird and i don't get the familial basis of this game. feels like a weird au - miss and hit - ooooh nice music upon peering into the attic i hope there's more when you go in - more good jude dialogue - it feels weird to be playing a game where you have to click to move vs like, the johns land walkabout flash which was much simpler and yet allowed you to navigate with keys. i keep reaching for them

STAIRS - a miss... oh god. bad miss - there's a picture of jake and jane. and roxy. still a solid what the fuck on that one. and there's also a wedding picture of joey's random hot mom with mustachioed jake english and just. what is he doing there. ok foreshadowing that the dog betrayed jake which sounds stupid but whatever - another miss. why isn't there a space after any of the ellipses. i noticed this in the first room but it felt petty to mention it then and now it is annoying

DOWNSTAIRS - a tuba? this music is pretty noiry. i would LOVE a noiry soundtrack, trollcops was always one of my fav ever hs songs. tho there's some weird piano happening in the background which doesn't fit tonally and is confusing me - does joey have a crush on the green lady from reboot? sure seems like it. ok the idea of jake's daughter having a thing for GREEN ladies is p funny - aww i was really excited for her to play a haunting melody. MORE CREEPY MUSIC - oh some blue ladies! yeah she's defo gay and not being shy about it in her internal monologue omg yay - may have been another typo there but i clicked too fast to tell - thing where she turned the static noise off seems kinda unnecessary but ok - that commentary lacked a full stop... - spice mix seems irrelevant - the rooms aren't labeled or anything and it's not v helpful and making everything feel a bit disordered - why are jude's question marks separated... also it would be funnier if he did a vocalised "question mark" a la kanaya. but his dialogue is still good - something i only just noticed because im dumb: joey types in jane's blue but no capitalisation. jude types in yellow which is a new colour, it's not sollux's yellow - the action box for going back up the stairs from the living room is so tiny wtf. also that's probably not what it's called i don't know game things - this is the point at which i would be consulting a walkthrough were there one available. oh thank god there are the flashlight batteries. the different batteries in the sylladex are not labeled very clearly that's not that helpful - significantly more misses than hits in this part of the game BASEMENT - this music is a little cruder but i like the jazzy tuba(?) still - equal hits and misses - jake likes betty crocker in this universe? - missed that cutscene again. fucksake. and that one - battle music is alright. i like the melody but theyve gone for a weird synth and there are some weird false relations - "the room where it slappens?" what? the strife writing is really hard to read. altho "let's do lunge - check please" is silly but funny - i love jude's dialogue, it's well done. joey just kinda talks the same way as jane but lower case. she even has the skepticism thing - haha wiliness attribute. i notice that the game isn't doing much in the way of inventing its own running gags, it's actually just still referencing those of the original comic. not that they aren't working but. it could do better TROPHY ROOM - is that a different strife music or am i an idiot. nice bass and a maybe less offensive synth? oooooooh nice 8bit work - i really like the concept of the strife text, what a good adaptation of the comic. most of the puns are a bit weak tho. but a few are gooduns. - how the fuck do i win. ive tried all the options. oh there we go - fun victory text but the music is basic and annoying. oh the same rank ascension jargon as homestuck that's nice if in a less readable/interesting format than in the comic - more hits than misses in this room! that digression on a mexican folk monster is pretty random. im still very into the glockenspiely part of this music, that wasn't a thing that stopped happening or anything - there are some ashes in this room. I have a newfound appreciation for john's exploration sequence at the start of homestuck. i wouldn't say im tired of the point-and-click thing yet but im not loving it - some of jude's dialogue reminds me of WV's commands to john before he reads the etiquette book. abrupt capitals. maybe that's where some of my affection for it comes from - i do like the conversation options those are pretty well done

[mmmelanie-blog1]

greetings loved ones ! i love snoop dogg deal with it ! im benzo im literal trash thanks for checking in lmao im so excited for this u have no fkn idea boo ( feel free 2 msg me or like this post if ur too lazy n i will contact u once i get back home ) i love twd and alanna masterson a lot ( ok twd is becoming a lil bad but ima still watch it tho ) so this is a huge deal for me to play her n also my first time so dont ride my dick like this if theres something wrong with her or smth pls bare w me ! under the read more u will find a bit more about my babe MELANIE MILLER and about the connections and stuff keep in mind that im still trying to figure her out and all that stuff so have fun !

mel has lived all of her life in hermosa beach, she was born and raised there and loves it and would never ever leave it here she’s shocked and upset her parents decided to move out of there which takes us to her current living status: she lived with her parents until she turned 21, she rented an apartment and has been living on her own ever since. her father was the local owner of THE BAR ( ya the bar its called THE BAR dont make a big deal outta it have u not seen gone girl? jeez ) and when they moved out of hermosa to travel around the world with all the bar’s funding they left mel in charge of it and its been a crazy ride for her bc she literally knew nothing about how to manage a bar but now she does and shes an ace !

SHES THE YOUNGER DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL, she has three brothers ( canon masterson boys bc i love them ALL esp jordan ) who eventually come visit her n she loves them with all her damn heart ! her family means the most to her and shes always happy to have them around like u have no idea how much ! she also has a little niece ( i didnt wanted mel to have a child but I CANT CUT OFF ALL THE CUTE MARLOWE PICS SO ) who means absolutely everything to her ! she loves kids bc she considers herself a child at heart mmmm

her label is the BENEVOLENT meaning she’s really caring and soft and sweet. picture jess day from new girl minus all the glitter and girly things. mel is kind of a tomboy who wouldnt mind to wear dresses on special occasions ! lmao she’s super funny but will always bring the dad jokes to the table but lbr who doesnt love a dad joke lmao shes rly weird but in that sweet nice way you know ?

she was born in a very religious family and she always did what her parents wanted to so now that she’s all on her own she’s like free and ready to be wild but she’s like am i really ready for this ? am i as wild as everyone else seem to be ? she’s very responsible she was RAISED that way and she can’t help it ofc sometimes she’s like you know what i dont care im going to do it.... will i regret it? probably but i dont care !

mel is ALL AGAINST conflict shes the one to talk her way through things and be as civil as possible unless you wanna get wild she will probably walk the heck away from u and be like “not gonna have it, my dude !” you know? she loves attention but she never shows, shes kinda insecure about her looks in general and she pulls it off in a funny way like im gonna drag myself before u do so dont bother.... she is very sensitive but its going to take you a little bit harder than “u look bad” to make her feel bad you know.... she will probably cry later when no ones around but shes not going to let you know !

shes so aesthetic she loves art, painting, music, museums, the stars, the moon and everything else ... she believes 100% in alien and supports the theory that THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE she lowkey scully and mulders child lmaooo

she got a major in psychology so listening to people and comforting them is the thing she loves the most ! she lives for the present, dont talk to her about her past or ask her about the future that kinda annoys her although shes soft hearted and all she likes being straight up with almost everyone ! if you wanna die lie to her um she aint gonna kill u u idiot but she gonna cut u right tf off without hesitation !

PISCES SUN / GEMINI MOON / ARIES RISING !

shes an emotional wreck, she literally has no luck at all with love shes a fucking mess she falls for the wrong person EVERY FREAKING TIME ( i can relate ) she covers her emotions ( when talking about love and relationships ) with indifference and humor most of the time she be like “i dont rly need someone to constantly be there for me men aint shit” but she be crying in her sleep for someone to cuddle her every night lmao thats the way she is man u gotta love her

WANTED CONNECTIONS

SO BASICALLY i love new girl a lot and i love it specially bc it gives u so many ideas for connections and stuff lmao if u want some inspo check a new girl blog and we will get a connection from it lol but yeah my most wanted connections as of right now are:

friends to lovers: they are RIDES OR DIES basically, it doesnt have to be like uh they known each other forever nah its alright if they just met like a year ago anyway they p much together all the time and one of them ( either ur muse or mel idc ) start to feel things for the other and its annoying bc they dont wanna ruin this thing at all .... plot twist ? if u like to watch ur characters suffer, like ME ! maybe this thing is a ONE SIDED THING like one has feelings and the other is like lmao yikes ! so everything slowly becomes awkward ! i dont rly know i dont mind how this actually turns out tbh as long as we have it !

bestfriends: ALMOST SIBLINGS they have known each other for literally YEARS they went to school, high school and maybe college together ! p much melanie is the mother and ur muse is the reckless teenager whos always asking for help but they love each other a lot ! think about cece/jess from new girl :)

roomies ( 0 / 3 ): they all different from one another its a miracle they all get along this well ! they are a huge fucking mess but they are there for each other all the time ! they all live in a loft or a house idk we could figure that out laters ! ( tba )

exes: well okay as explained before, mel is a huge mess when it comes to love ! this could go two ways, they ended on bad terms but try to be as civil maybe ? melanie is a caring loving bitch but when shes in a relationship her insecurities take over most of the times and thats why it messes everything up and MAYBE thats one of the reasons why they broke up ? idk man we can work something out.... OR THEY ENDED ON REALLY NICE GOOD TERMS and still care for each other and its like they are there for each other but its kinda awkward bc do we still love each other like that or are we like family now ? you know ? I DONT MIND MELANIE HAVING LIKE TWO EXES SO LMAO

sugar daddy: is she into that daddy kink ? whO KNOWS ! but lately shes been drooling over u and its kinda nice but shes afraid bc this will probably end up really bad but shes still willing to take one for the team !

big little lies ( 0 / 5 ): MY FAVORITE SHOW so im thinking a group of FIVE to SIX powerful women ( who havent killed anyone yet so chill ) who are there for each other and have wine nights and sit by the fire to talk about their days and stuff like that so yeah that would be so cute ! ( tba )

conspiracy theories buddy: they dont just talk about conspiracy theories but they do lmao also “did u heard about the haunted house up in the hills? wanna go?” they vibe Hard its 4 am n they texting about aliens the universe and sutff like that ! ( tba )

ok thats p much all i can think of ! if there any other connection u wanna have dont hesitate to let me know ! i love sharing ideas and crying over headcanons so its fine by me ! also im running late to work so if u wanna plot hmu and like this thing and ill make sure to reply to all ur msgs once i get back home !