as i think they do

Bees Buzzing

I know I should have worked on the next chapter for my Existence story, but this popped into my head and demanded to be written. It’s family fluff (what else). 

Fox Mulder believes in a lot of things. He wants to believe, anyway. One thing he doesn’t believe in, hasn’t in the past, is perfection.

He has to admit, though, that today comes damn near close.

It’s Sunday and they’re at Maggie’s. It’s one of these Scully family gatherings that baffle yet fascinate him. Siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces in abundance. He once asked Scully who this or that person was. She looked, squinted, and shook her head. No idea, she’d chuckled. Now that he’s attended a few of these parties, Mulder knows who to smile at, who to charm and who to stay away from. Though that has never changed, really. Bill Scully Jr. will never like him.

Children run around, trampling a few flowers here and there, and no one says a word. It’s a sea of red-haired heads that come in several heights and even more shapes. Yet Mulder can always spot his son. William’s hair has darkened this past year and Bill, upon laying eyes on the boy, merely glanced at Mulder, shaking his head. As if there had ever been any question as to who the father was.

Mulder watches his son as if he’s never before seen him. Watches him attempt to keep up with his older cousins, looking up at them, holding out his pudgy hands in an act of participation. William gets up with difficulty, sticks his tiny butt in the air, and uses his hands to crawl a step, then he stands up. His concentrated face reminds Mulder of Scully. Their son pushes his bottom lip forward and his tongue out. He takes a step and then another. His happy squeal is so loud that Mulder can hear it clearly, from a distance, through all the other voices and noises surrounding him. All he sees, all he hears, is his son, bathed in sunlight, his grin brighter than any star.

“Hey you,” Scully whispers into his ear unexpectantly, making him shiver. She puts her arms around him, and even though it’s been two years, Mulder still expects someone to wake him up, laugh into his face, and tell him it was just a dream, a joke. He doesn’t wake up, though, and Scully’s grip tightens around his chest. She feels warm against him, smells like the sun, and yes, this is perfection, he thinks. It has to be.

“What are you doing?” But he doesn’t need to answer. Scully finds their son, who is running after a butterfly, and chuckles.

“Chasing butterflies.” She mumbles against his skin and Mulder shivers despite the heat. She starts trailing soft kisses along his neck, and he thinks about stopping her; they’re in public, surrounded by what feels like a hundred different Scullys. Instead his body betrays him and he moans softly.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” He croaks out.

“Hmmm.” Is her only answer. Her mouth wanders over his skin, taking claim here and there. Her lips move closer to his mouth and he can almost feel her there already. No matter how often they kiss, and sometimes he wishes he’d kept count, it never fails to amaze him. He anticipates her touch, waits and longs for it. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees William, still running, with his arms outstretched. There is a huge smile on his face, his mouth open wide, revealing the first few teeth. A perfect moment of pure perfection.

Then it happens.

William stops, freezes. The smile falls from his face as his lip starts to quiver. His hand comes up and touches his cheek before he starts wailing. His legs give in and he lands on his butt, tears streaming down his face. Both Mulder and Scully run towards him, fear in every breath, in every move.

“Baby, what happened?” Mulder takes William into his arms and the boy clings to him as Scully tries to get a look at his face.

“A bee,” she tells Mulder with a sigh, “Just a bee sting.” William continues to cry and Mulder holds him tightly, kisses his hair, promises him that it will be fine. Just fine.

He waits outside, a glass of lemonade in his hand that someone must have given to him at some point in the last ten minutes. Scully is inside, cleaning up Will. When they come out of the house a moment later, Will is grinning again. There is a big red blotch on his cheek and he points to it when he sees his father.

“Beeeeeee.” He says proudly and Mulder just nods, bewildered. “Beeee!” He sings, letting go of Scully’s hand and running towards the other children as if nothing had happened.

“It’s always the bees with us, isn’t it?” Scully says, standing close to Mulder. They watch as William, in his very own words, tells the story of his first bee sting to his cousins.

“Just a bee.” Mulder repeats Scully’s words from earlier, but his thoughts are years in the past. Not just a bee then.

“Just a bee.” Scully says with emphasis and touches his jaw, making him look at her. “A very normal bee, Mulder.”

“Interrupting kisses since ‘98.”

“Not this time.” Scully says and kisses him, finally, perfectly.


Miraculous Ladybug Fake Instagram Accounts

(bonus adrinette / ladynoir)

Fun Swedish names that are just words:

Björn = “bear”

Styrbjörn = “Control Bear”

Torbjörn = “Thor Bear”

Bror = “Brother”

Bo = “To live, in a house or place”

Axel = “Shoulder”

Alf = “Elf”

Dag = “Day”

Inga = “None”

Knut = “Knot”

Lillemor = “Little Mother”

Liv = “Life”

Mark = “Ground”

Rita = “To Draw”

Saga = “Fairytale” or “Story”

Sten = “Stone” or “Rock”

Fun Swedish names that sound funny in English:










kevystel  asked:

idk whether this counts for the meme, but if it does, could you do viktor pov of yuuri's paperclip suitcase breakdown from counting seconds through the night!

!!!!! This super-counts and I love it.

(timestamp meme! and the original fic is here.)

Around hour three and a half, Yuuri’s ‘test-pull’ breaks the zipper clean off the suitcase. Oh, Victor thinks, watching Yuuri’s face. I thought we were joking.

Yuuri.” He tries to laugh. It’s a startled, unconvincing sound. “I think we need to call time-of-death. You can borrow one of mine.“

“I’m leaving my parents enough garbage,” Yuuri says. It doesn’t quite follow. It’s also, he realizes with a start, the most complete reply he’s gotten out of Yuuri in at least an hour.

Oh, he thinks. He was never joking.

(The progression is becoming familiar, if not always recognizable from the start.)

Yuuri would remind him that it sneaks up on him, too. He doesn’t even need to - it shows on his face, bit by bit, as he folds himself into the couch and picks at the lunch Victor brought him. Something halfway between embarrassment and resignation.

”What, um.” He stops, his forehead creasing like he’s putting the words in order. “What time is it?”

”Two,” Victor says. Yuuri lets out a little hiss of a laugh between his teeth.

What do you want me to do next time, Victor had asked him, that night in Beijing.

Do? Yuuri, nestled under his chin, had tilted his head to look up. Well, I, he’d said. Hadn’t thought about it? Even then, just a few months into knowing Yuuri, that sounded a lot like ‘I have thought about it extensively and I will carry that to my grave.’

Reading Yuuri has become a lifelong field of study, after all. It’s like he’s fourteen again, knowing what a program should be but lacking that last piece to close the gap. 

“You’ll tell me if this is too much,” he asks.

You’ll tell me if I’m asking too much, he’d really like to ask. 


OH i wonder how many people will be surprised if i say i dont love love love johnnep as much as i let on?

anonymous asked:



Amy ponders this. “Okay. So how do we ‘chill’ when it comes to grocery shopping?”

He’s excited about this. “For starters, you could get in this cart so I can push you down this cereal aisle really fast.”

“WHAT? Jake, that’s so dangerous!”

“It’s super fun, I’ve done it a million times!” She still looks uncertain. “Look, no one’s here, we’re not going to get into trouble, okay?”



At that, he proceeds to lift her up and places her in the shopping cart, which shocks her because she assumed she’d be climbing in on her own.

“Just trust me!” He whispers, before he starts charging down the aisle at full speed. Amy barely has time to hang on for dear life, and nearly screams but—

It ends up being really, really fun.

She nearly whoops when they reach the end of the aisle, and Jake is chuckling because she looks so unbelievably happy.

“That was so fun!” She gushes, holding onto Jake’s arm, and he places his hand over hers, fingers warm and solid. It feels nice but neither of them bring attention to it.

“Wanna do it again?” He offers, and it’s like her happiness alone is making this all worth it for him.

Monday Mornings Aren't So Bad With You

Angelica Schuyler x fem!reader

Note: This was a combination of two prompts people sent me, I’m not sure if they were supposed to be for drabbles or fics but whatever the case, I put them together and came up with this so I hope you like it! 

Request: Anonymous asked: Hey girl! Please take whatever time you need for yourself, but when you feel better, if you’d want to do “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” (it’s from the fluffy/blushy sentence starters) with Angelica (I know you said you wanted some with her) then I’d appreciate it! I hope you have a great day, you deserve it!!

@librarychild asked: “You’re a terrible cook.” With Angelica, please

Warnings: this is just fluff, nothing to warn you about!

Word Count: 1,441

Tagged:  @tallish-hobbit @hamiltonsquills @rottwat @iamgrayfox @justanotherone2u @angesansnom @lupinschocolatefrog @butlinislin @eternallyademon @i0do0not0knoe @iamindeedapotato @tailored-shirt-tails @ordinaryornate @star-trek-supernatural @femilton@noluckmonday @haletotheking24 @hmltntrsh51

Monday mornings used to be the worst time of your week. Forcing yourself up out of bed at your alarm for the start of another long week was always a struggle until Angelica came into your life.

Now Monday’s are your favorite mornings because Angelica is always there.

You wake up with her, snuggling into her, feeling her smooth skin against yours as you slowly wake up. She smiles at you, waiting in bed with you for a few minutes, not saying a word because she know’s that you don’t do well with pre-coffee conversations until she get’s up and heads into the kitchen to start on breakfast.

This morning as you make your way out into the kitchen, Angelica’s old college sweater pulled over your pajamas, your hair a mess atop your head, you find her at the stove, eggs and bacon cooking in the pan, two cups of coffee sitting on the counter.

After taking a sip from one of the coffee mugs, the warm liquid moving through your body, helping to wake up you reach for Angelica.

“Good morning,” you mumble, snaking your arms around her waist as your chin comes to rest on her shoulder. “How come you never let me help with making breakfast?” you ask.

“Because you’re a terrible cook,” she says, so casually that a grin spreads across your face, no other partner you’ve had has ever been willing to say things like that straight up, but Angelica says it, and that makes you love her even more.

Keep reading

death-tink  asked:

Ehhhh I hate FedEx too. And I hate USPS cause they had screwed me over with one of my binders. It came and was damaged. They tried to fight me saying they received it like that when the company had proof it wasn't like that lol

Σ(゜ ᗜ ゜;) oh no i am experiencing THE ANXIETY

thehumanrat  asked:

I ship you with John Boyega because I feel like he would look after you but also you would have loads of fun and he's so bouncy. I just feel like you would get on.

((OOC: Oh, what a splendid match! Here’s John and I at a garden party, trying to remember whether or not we put coriander in the pasta salad. Because, you know, Sheila is allergic.))

Was gonna finish this tonight but I was hit with a very sudden wave of self-doubt so I guess I’ll finish it tomorrow during a break from studying

im thinking about my gf coming and staying with me for a week and im really !!!!!!!!!!!! im all smiley rn