truthseeks - Tumblr blog

[truthseeks]

❛ scully, is that a hint of envy i hear? ❜ contrary to whatever it is that is made out of him, he is no wordsworth-degrees of romantic. he meets her dryness with his plainness, and moves on. he glances to her, sees her looking. north of the woods is the town's only gas station, with coffee like filtered dirt. the wadded-up extra bill had been worth it, however.

❛ i did. the exact area, and-- ❜ he drags out a folded-into-oblivion scrap of paper. the map was roughly drawn, but well-informed. ❛ nearby. no sign of it. ❜ a pause. in his left hand is a torch. his eyes sweep scully's features. ❛ that was this evening. once makes it a coincidence, but as it happens, this was the third time. ❜

a missing building, or … a mistaken, runaway trailer. impossible, given the size of it. she must acknowledge that. ❛ there was a body found on the outskirts each time. worth taking a look again, don't you think? ❜

mulder eases in, like a ship through a storm. whatever was left of her sleep had dissipated, left on her half-cold hotel bed, and she felt the crisp night air creep up her nape, to the back of her head. she half-stares, half-listens; she could think of a better response if she hadn't been desperate for her morning cup of tea. “ several, if it were the case. and maybe a little too much. ”

dana's eyes flicker up, sharp with attention. “ well, they could have been mistaken. did you look for it? ”

[truthseeks]

Is Dana Scully really Dana Scully without the shoulder pads

[truthseeks]

[truthseeks]

a funeral home is home away from home, to some. a resting place. he waits for the fact to affect him, as he has before, and feels nothing. conscious experience does more wonders in registering the pain. the lack of it is … he glances around. the morgue is sparse, save for the ancient light fixtures and the stagnant smell of ice. the lack fuels some bitterness, some dullness. he finds the mortician. blunt. plain. tired. it only takes him a few long strides to reach the open table. ❛ thanks for the offer, doctor, but i'm here to talk to you. ❜

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎johnny cash on the radio. of course. i spend my time cutting through bodies, slices so delicate, so thin, victor frankenstein recast as the death-breather. he threatens the listener with god and rapture. i look up, my vision bleary with heat and sleep. ❛ sorry, we're closed for the day. if you're here for arrangements, ask nate. he's in the next room. ❜‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ @truthseeks , starter call.

[truthseeks]

"this conversation requires more wine than i currently have." @inhaunts.

deja vu to the strangest degree. but this had been his apartment, beer, his worn-down couch and a movie left to run in the background. now they find themselves in her home. the calendar on her watch tells them they are closer than ever to autumn, that it has been well over a decade of this, that they will be putting skinner to shame by relegating each other with tales of the good old days. (and there isn't much to dwell on. much he'd lived and lived through and lives with; it's hardly a selfish ask, for her to want to guide them through the paths that lead nowhere else but to each other.)

their son is asleep, or pretends to be: scully insists he takes after him, his nose, the shape of his face, the spark in his features. but the last-- the last is all her.

❛ i thought we agreed on no secrets. ❜ he gestures to william, leans back and glances at the halo of fire her hair is. she keeps her face away pointedly, out of embarrassment? no, he can feel the tug of her lips. and he leans down to her ear, whispers, ❛ think we need a no alcohol allowed sign for the future? ❜

[truthseeks]

" you're not going to start biting the heads off live bats, are you? " @agn1a.

he could be imagining the nervous edge to her voice. he couldn't be imagining the jagged intake of breath when he trails the torch beam up the rocky palate of the cave. inch-by-painful-inch. with caution. with care. the first dark cluster is a sign enough.

❛ no ... unless we're desperate. ❜ he traces the gritty, wet sides of the tunnel, and probes the steep, dark decline hereafter. the only way out is through, though he hopes it won't come to that. ❛ most wild birds were thought to be very nutritious, based on the food they ate. others consume bats, with the right preparation. it's just a matter of getting used to it. ❜ not a point to look forward to, but consider.

[truthseeks]

❛ if i needed the supervision, i would. ❜ which she would never entertain in a million years. which he is being subjected to currently. ❛ and i don't. ❜

change the wifi password and don't tell me what it is, @truthseeks.

‘ i would, if i knew it. why don't you ask scully? ’ oh, he knows why not.

[truthseeks]

miss subways.

dialogue prompts from miss subways: a novel by david duchovny.

every day here is like a new stanford experiment.

my inner judge never has rehabilitation in mind.

if i'm not busy learning or being born, i'm busy dying.

you want me here, but then you want to ignore me.

one step forward, one half-step back.

i like the phrase 'making love'.

fuck you, asshole.

to the victors go the nomenclature.

gods are immortal, so they're patient.

not even i can stomach scientology.

what is the sound of one hand clapping?

i don't want to be famous. i don't have the clothes for it.

my identity can't be longer than a tweet.

i saw an opening. i decided to be the bad guy.

you're not going to start biting the heads off live bats, are you?

it's true, then. you can't take it with you.

you worried so hard for so long.

i'm sorry, i didn't get your last name.

you called me? what are you, 103 years old?

jesus would not go to nobu.

i don't mind you thinking outside the box. i mind you thinking outside of my box.

either lie down completely or stand the fuck up. it's gonna kill you in the middle.

you sound like oprah, except mean.

i want to live my life, not document it on instagram.

you lie to yourself and you lie to me.

to save something, something must be sacrificed. that's the way it goes.

we can't police our dreams. don't judge.

it felt like a death.

if i own something long enough, i start ascribing feelings to it.

that billy shakespeare, he got everywhere first.

i'm a reader, not a writer.

come on, let's get you cleaned up.

did i call you last night?

i was a different person with a different life. i've never had a dream like that.

there's nothing more boring than listening to somebody else's dream.

i can be a good shrink or a good friend. not both. choose.

i can't remember the last time i got laid.

don't be such a pussy.

i feel like i'm coming up short.

this is no time to come out of the closet.

was i a disappointment to you?

i like seeing things the way i do.

which version is the real you?

don't worry. there won't be a quiz.

the future is as random and fated as the past.

so much of life necessitates looking away.

have you been crying?

you forgot your trigger warning.

what i want has very little to do with anything.

spare me the faux shame.

when do the exceptions just pile up and make a new rule?

i like structure. i like to know i've done my homework.

i have to go to confession.

i don't know what to pray for.

the prayer is the god.

you stabbed a priest?

i need to change the past.

i'm losing you to that place you go.

shut the front door!

what would the perfect life look like?

you have the coolest, most beautiful eyes i've ever seen.

sing you to sleep? i don't really know any songs.

you don't know any songs? that's not possible.

i think i've always wanted to be taken advantage of by a gigolo.

you seem too smart to be an actor.

little lies make bigger lies possible.

there's something you're not saying.

there's a lot i'm not saying. i'm sure there's a lot you're not saying, too.

take the reins. write your own story.

i'm sorry you heard that.

i screwed up. you're not gonna love me anymore.

we all know better, but we're human. we screw up.

how do we know our character unless we step outside it and look its way, now and then?

is it my business? you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

i feel tall enough to ride this rollercoaster.

maybe you don't see yourself the way i see you.

you understand fine. you're just too nervous to comprehend.

people fall in love in difficult circumstances. most songs are about it.

let's agree on a moratorium on questions like "how did you know?".

well, stop guessing. start knowing.

just because i'm funny doesn't mean i'm not lethal.

you're already in the game. you have no choice but to play on.

don't tell me what i want. don't put words in my mouth.

where has playing by the rules gotten you?

maybe you have more power than you think you do.

one of the lies we tell children is that reason will get them through this life.

in order to love, you have to know what death is.

as first kisses go, i've had worse.

there's such a thing as too much history.

i want to be with you, but not like this.

i'm quite forgettable. that's like, the most memorable thing about me.

do you actually believe in past lives?

this conversation requires more wine than i currently have.

is there something else you'd like to ask? i get the feeling there is.

[truthseeks]

q : you've buried your soul deep in the earth, which geographical feature graces the landscape where it roots? a : dripstone cave.

your soul sinks into the earth and dissolves. it seeps through the soil and over a million patient years it drips through the cracks of the rock and into the empty space below. eventually it’s not empty anymore. you take in what’s around you and you carry it with you. the air often seems to thicken with the emotions of the people around you, you breath them in and feel them as your own. do not falter, your sensitivity is a strength! the thoughts you carry and overthink again sevenfold weigh heavy on you, i know, but it is care that holds them in your mind. to care is to love and your love is patient and unwavering! they say that constant dripping wears away the stone but you prove the opposite! you pour your soul into what you do and drop by drop tirelessly, steadily, something beautiful grows! you may think what you’re doing is not enough, your actions too small, your arm too short to reach but as it has been said: love and a cough cannot be concealed. even a small cough. even a small love. with small hands you will build a home for yourself - safe and warm. one day you’ll turn around in awe of what has grown from the love you’ve sown.

tagging : @inhaunts , scully! / @matercut, victoria / @agn1a .

[truthseeks]

❛ they think around 1700 stars visible to the bare human eye have witnessed the begining the human civilization. makes you wonder how many stars you've seen in a lifetime know you like an old friend, doesn't it? ❜ she did protest, he did consider just telling her otherwise-- but she's here, her hair shining in the phosphorescent moonlight. ❛ but that's not why i called you. ❜ he gestures to the lights on the horizon, and the inconspicuous line of trees crowding in. ❛ some tourists-- they found a storage facility in there this morning. except it's not there now. ❜

“ mulder, it's late. ” yet, here she is— in the middle of nowhere, in the thick of a meadow. two years ago, some part of her would have entertained the notion of romance and routine before dismissing it. with him, it's quite different. and never simple. “ how long have you been out here? ” / @truthseeks

[truthseeks]

a handy guide.

companion piece for the "it's both" crew who better make their own posts damnit

[truthseeks]

i try and i try, and i just feel you slipping away. @faithseeks.

night-light, he feels her rise for air from the sea of their tangled sheets and limbs, and he stirs, reaching for her- there is little mutual comfort in all they are left with, but he's learned ways to soothe her, the way she soothes him. no permanent cure, but she recognizes him better in these long nights than he ever could. he holds her, feels the usual firmness of her frame fade as she rattles at his touch : only a minute, and she lets him draw her in. only enough. only enough to let her know where he is, where she is, where the world starts and where they end. she has only rarely spoken of what she sees, but when she prompts him, asks him to switch the bedside lamp off, she spills over.

her loss, the very idea of her loss - no matter how brief - had imploded a part of him, left its debris deep inside. an aching reminder. it terrifies him some nights still. ( her voice breaks with each word- drawn-out, in private agony. ) and how many times had she lost him? lost him while he had been right beside her, further away from her reach- he had very little to fault her for. she had done all she could have. she had lost more than she ever should have. ( he can sense the sob before it racks her body, and feels her lean further into him- with little prompting ). he runs a hand down her back, feels her grab hold of his arm, and he keeps it there, close to her heart- it feels like rain on the rooftops, just as quick, just as quiet.

he adores her. cares too much to simply stay and say nothing. years ago, how many years ago, he'd sought her honesty, sought her vulnerability, her trust in him. she gives it to him willingly now , and only now-

i try and i try, she tells him, i try and i try- as though she were still in that unfamiliar, dark space that he could not touch. he had been part of it, has his own, but would only feel a fraction of what she feels. had felt, when she had been alone, when she had william, when she had been scared and without him. the thought is a slow, burning acid, dips down the back of his throat, daily, daily, daily.

he holds her, presses his face into her hair, feels his shoulder going numb again, and swallows harshly. ❛ -now? ❜ she relents her grip on him, and he wraps his other arm around her, adding quietly, ❛ you have me, scully. you have me where i need to be. ❜ it's not enough, but it's all he can offer in this moment. he trusts her enough to fight off whatever the future holds, she trusts him enough to stay. he reminds her of that, ❛ you know you always will. ❜

[truthseeks]

you haven't had any sleep. you're very tired. @faithseeks.

she is staring at his back and he feels every hair on his neck stand, as if in anticipation of a storm. scully is well-meaning, concerned, watchful. she is every bit the medical doctor she reminds others she is, and here she is pulling for results. so she dissuades him, futile, but she tries. or is she stabilising him, an extra leg to an old table, the ground he can stand on- depend upon? he turns. ( dreading, mulder admits, dreading needing to explain something this... innocent, something he could chalk up to sleep deprivation, a hallucination. he's endured plenty. ) her eyes are bright and alive in the partially lit space, her arms are crossed, but without any indication of doubt. she sounds assured, and he would like to trust her for it. she sounds worried, and he would like to pull himself up, stop pushing his load onto her back. but a lie is a lie, and it nags at him so. nags at him that he may need to turn back after coming this far, waiting this long. the field around them folds in, corn and night and the distant city.

❛ i sa- i know what i saw, scully. ❜ he holds her by her arms, an attempt at getting her attention, an attempt at holding, holding on to her own firmness. and his eyes dip to hers, seeking, earnest. you believe me, he wants to ask, you believe me, don't you? ❛, right here. two hours ago. ❜

[truthseeks]

my relationship with txf is. i love it I hate it it's the worst show in existence it's the best show in existence.

[truthseeks]

it's not as if you've never done this before. @inhaunts.

his eyes trail down to the door, clarice's answering flashlight reveals rust and decay and a steadfastness that only old locks could offer. it's a warehouse located in the left fields of ontario, a strange in-between, notoriously quiet yet infamously unsubtle- the blackened building stands out like a dark horse in a lily-field. he stuffs his hands into his heavy coat, fumbles through packets of sunflower seeds, his keys, his badge and a pin he keeps at hand. he pulls the last item out.

and hesitates. a rarity, by all accounts.

clarice is swift in her action, in her verbal jab to the side. not the first time, and not the last. he holds the torch to the lock, watches her head dip to the aged bolt, her fingers wiry and steady as they work the lock. not once has she spoken of her past in detail, but he can sense the calluses in her hand by looking at them. she mentions having struggled with picking locks before, and when she steps away in what seems too little time, it's clear she has gotten better. a huff of a laugh, his breath fogging up the air before him, ❛ any other tricks i should be aware of, starling? an occasional reminder would be sweet. ❜

[truthseeks]

you get that crease, just there, when you're trying to solve a mystery. @matercut.

his head is tilted, neck slowly accepting the likelihood of a constant ache the next day. for now, the possibility seems distant, fingers itching and eager and dying to move from the photograph to the real thing. or the closest library. the clock glows blue in its dark corner and tells him, it's 12 AM already. state library closes in two hours, it's a half-hour trip from here. it's another night of sleep sacrificed, but it's nothing new to mulder. it's never come easy, and he's knocking bones against the headrest until it does. familiar date, familiar institute, there should be a file somewhere in the top-left of the basement, if only-

poke. victoria addresses him, and punctuates each pause with a gentle poke to his cheek : done in good humor and she ceases when she has his attention. a brow arches up at her, wondering when she had gotten so quiet, so gentle. she barely stirs the papers from where she is seated on the desk, her nose crinkles in a familiar way, yet she doesn't once call him cassandra ( he only barely knows what he will be staring at tomorrow ), sisyphus ( this burden is his, imposed on by himself - not divine intervention ), ahab ( all he wants is the truth ). good will, and good will only.

❛ vicky. ❜ he gives her a sidelong smile. ❛ i'd think finding a missing packet of sourpatch is hardly an easy solve. got a minute or two? ❜

[truthseeks]

wait, wait. you're telling me that you put an unknown chemical from an unknown man into your body? @agn1a.

funny, it might have been, if he weren't too unconcerned, too comfortable with the idea of letting clarice blow off some steam. she is stiff and curled and her eyes carry an incredulity that he is most familiar with. but he spreads his hands briefly, to show her that he's alright, that he hasn't started presenting any concerning symptoms. where scully may have expected results, starling hits him with her voice, tugs out an answer from him with a tenacity he's always respected and admired.

her nest-blue eyes shine in the dim light, as he seats himself across her. ❛ ketchup has about 10 unknown chemicals. think it's enough for a ban? ❜ there is an ounce of guilt that tugs through him, and he relents on the stretch of his lips. ❛ i'm not sure if it's a chemical, starling. organic, but i'm having it sent to verify. ❜ he draws the plastic container out of his pocket. the liquid's barely there. ❛ are you saying you believe it's from the suspect? ❜