cryptic picture

Freckles

Rating:  PG
Author: @kateyes224
Category:  MSR
Summary:  Something I didn’t think I was capable of.  Complete and utter MSR fluff.  The equivalent of Shipper cotton candy.  Or maybe lemon meringue?
A/N:  For an anon who asked me the following, and got me to thinking…Is Scully romantic in nature? We all know she’d die for Mulder but what trivial things does she do for romance?


They don’t sext.  

Never have, never will.  If either of them groped for a justification for this dearth of visual piquancy in their relationship, both would demur that at any given point during the past twenty-five years, any and all of their phone lines, land, cellular, or satellite, and all of their internet connections and servers, had likely been bugged.  

And as any conspiracy nut will tell you, being surveilled tends to put a damper on displays of affection, both public and private.  

Mulder had managed to quell his seemingly voracious sexual appetite early on, monasticized by her sudden, austere presence in his basement office and in his life.  After their few first years together, he appeared to be quite willing to forego the pleasures his magazines and videos had previously sated.  If he recognized that he was sexually unfulfilled, he chalked it up as a win in light of the fact that he was being intellectually nourished as never before.  

Intercourse, he figured, could wait, at least until she was good and ready.  

Besides, Scully had always had a rather demure, dignified sort of sexiness about her.  She wasn’t often wanton.  She wasn’t a screamer.  

She most certainly didn’t sext.

So the first time it happened, when she was going on hour 43 of a two-day on-call stint, Mulder figured she must have accidentally snapped a photo of some indiscriminate countertop somewhere in the hospital.  A pale formica or porcelain surface speckled with smudges left behind by some errant janitor.  But the following text message had him scratching his head:

Guess correctly and you get a prize.

Scully said nothing about it when she came home the following morning and crawled into bed at oh-dark-thirty.  Mulder figured it must have been a mistake, an accidental butt shot, perhaps.  She’d butt-dialed him before.  An incidental photo wasn’t that far-fetched.  He curled himself around her and fell back asleep, forgetting the whole thing.

A few weeks went by, and April slipped quietly into May.  The sun finally decided to come out after a long, hard winter, and spring exploded in Virginia in earnest, giving Mulder ample opportunity to clear and refertilize the garden boxes behind the house.  

One sunny Sunday afternoon found the two of them kneeling side by side in the garden palming delicate, bright green seedlings that would yield squash and corn and cherry tomatoes by the hundreds into the loamy earth.

Mulder glanced over and offhandedly remarked that she’d forgotten to wear the wide-brim hat that shielded not only her face but the slim bones of her shoulders from the sun.  Her skin was flushed pink and dusted with cinnamon freckles he knew for a fact hadn’t been there when she’d crawled out of bed that morning. She’d rolled her eyes and muttered something about a bottle of aloe vera he could make use of, later, if need be.

And, indeed, he’d concentrated on mapping each and every new freckle that had appeared that night, kissing his way over and across her body and putting that eidetic memory to good use.  

Memorizing her has by far been the most generous and worthy exercise of this talent.

When next his cell phone buzzed, it was just after ten in the morning the very next day.  This time, the photo that accompanied the text was a bit more clear, but the message itself still hazy and difficult to read.  

I’ll understand if you don’t recognize these.  They’re new.

The image is, yet again, the same paleish pink backdrop and the focus is distractedly blurred of the splotches that mar whatever surface she’s photographed.  

Mulder scratches his head, confused.  

When he texts her back with, Do you need me to pick something up at the store?, she immediately responds with, No, just tell me where these are.  If you’re right, you’ll get something extra special tonight.

Mulder studies the image for hours.  He brings up maps of the United States and the world, hoping he’ll recognize the spots for cities or countries or UFO sightings.  He brings up images of the stars, charts of constellations and ancient maritime navigational methods.  Nothing matches.

He’s settled onto the couch with a beer to watch the ball game and wait for her to come home when it hits him.  He can remember three of the seven spots he’d seen from a moment years before, when he’d wrapped himself around her and nestled his nose into her hair and murmured words into the pulse point behind her ear.  He’d made a study of that precious few inches of skin, her neck and her jawline and her ear lobe, and knew for certain that there was a beauty mark hiding just under the line of her lower mandible.

He grabs his phone and texts back, his thumbs typing away at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.  

Your neck, just under your left ear.  I’ve kissed that spot enough times to know it by heart.

A few seconds for her to respond, but when his phone buzzes, he smiles at her message back.  It’s just an emoji, the smiley face one with heart eyes.  

That night, after dinner, she climbs on top of him on the couch and kisses him breathless, riding him until he’s sure he won’t be able to walk right for days.

It becomes a favorite game they play, on the nights and early mornings when she’s working past the point of exhaustion and he’s missing her so badly it physically pains him.  

She’ll text him a picture of some cluster of freckles or a lone beauty mark somewhere on her body, and he’ll rack his brain to remember precisely where it is.

Sometimes it takes him a few guesses, especially during those summer months when her skin seems to tan the remembered landmarks into oblivion as the freckles join forces in dense clusters on her shoulders and chest.  

By the time winter rolls around, it only takes him seconds to respond to the cryptic pictures she sends him.  

He saves them all, and to this day he can pull them up on his phone and recite from memory where each one is on her body.

abitofencouragement  asked:

Imagine Steve Rogers helping people get registered to vote. Maybe in his old neighborhood, maybe in the current time, or perhaps both.

Sam had to admit, it was pretty cute.  Steve had decided to take some time away from rescuing kittens, defeating aliens, and charming men and women with an aww-shucks smile to help the senior citizens of Brooklyn register to vote.

They set him up with a card table and a stack of Voter Registration forms and pencils and Sam had to say, Steve looked happier with every person he helped to register.   

“Usually, we have to go all the way to Town Hall for this.”  An elderly man in a worn blue jacket beamed at Steve from across the table.  

“Not this year, sir.  Take a seat, I can help you fill in the form, if you like.”

He eased herself into the chair across from Steve, but waved off the form Steve tried to hand him.  

“I’m already registered to vote.  I came because I wanted another picture with you.” 

Steve furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember taking a photo with you before, sir.”

Which was strange, Steve remembered every fan, thanks to his eidetic memory.  

“I don’t imagine you would.”  He tugged a worn, black-and-white photo from his jacket pocket and held it to Steve. “I saw you on tour, back during the war. Got a picture afterwards and everything.”

Sam leaned over from his place on a nearby armchair (Gladys was kicking his ass in Cribbage).  Sure enough there was Steve hoisting a young, dark-haired boy onto his shoulder.

“I’d –of course.  Sam, can you-“

Sam already had his phone in hand.  “On it.”

*

The photos went viral – the one from the 30s and the one Sam took in 2016 – and before Sam knew it, Tony was organizing a USO revival tour at senior facilities all over the US.  Steve was terrible at hiding his excitement.  

Submission Post from anon: My thoughts about Tyren

“This will probably be long but I want to say something. I really think that from now on they will play their A game to make this PR believable, because till now thanks to our FBI skills we are being able to see through their bullshit. Example: 1. We proved that the Jauregui’s family send them videos of Leo so that they can post and make us believe they are together. 2. We proved the photo L post with N, Ty and another one was not post on IG by her because A. She was doing an interview, B. Lauren always, always post the link of her IG picture on Twitter. 3. I’m pretty sure the IG stories in which she was at Ty concert were sent to her by someone else, i know she is a celebrity but she has to arrive some hours before at the airport anyway.
So Jamaica is the best place to make this real, so at the end also the most skeptical will believe in this RS. She is celebrating with her family and some of her hardcore friends, wait so why Tara is there? It makes no sense because yeah they could be friends but their relationship is so special? I don’t think so, Tara is just their shadow who follow the girls wherever they go to control what they do and what they say.
Let’s observe how till now Ty did all the work, with pictures and cryptic and cringe worthy tweets, and after he does one of these things most of the time he goes live on IG (I really want to know if even before all of this he did so many IG live so please someone makes me know) or he posts about BH3 coming soon.
One thing sure about Lauren is that she loves really hard and she is a jealous person, well before going to Jamaica Ty spent the weekend in strip-clubs, I don’t picture Lauren as the person happy to know that her “boyfriend” is surrounded by half-naked women, like for real if my boyfriend tells me he is going to a strip club I will be hella pissed (but maybe that’s just me)
Last thing let’s talk about tumblr, it could be stupid but it makes sense in my opinion. From January to march/February L was on Tumblr everyday and the night before flying for the Asian tour she reblogged some posts regarding letting someone go for good and breaking up. First she reblogged this and the in two weeks she is with Ty and head over hills in love with him? And from the moment all this shit started she is less and less on tumblr but in a recent interview she said she stays on tumblr everyday. My conclusion: she can’t reblog posts on tumblr because tumblr is her soul and her land of the truth and she can’t tell the truth at the moment.
For people saying what kind of PR is this? Well although the hate Lauren is gaining “fans” and attention and probably also contacts because unfortunately Ty lately is in a lot of songs and on Spotify he is the 18 artist most listen and well Ty is gaining attention. I remember a blog saying once that in this industry every kind of publicity is publicity, there is no different between good or bad.
From now one things will be worst I’m sure, I’m waiting for the kissing picture.
What we should do is take a step back from all of this, let’s remember that we don’t know Lauren and we don’t have any right to tell her how to live her life, but yeah we are probably angry or dissapointed and someone reaction has been so invasive and strong not only because he is Ty with everything relate to him but also because this fandom is tired because from 2015 they are giving to us only drama and lies every-fucking-single-day and this is frustrating and toxic for us. Let’s not talk about Lauren liking posts in which she was not even tag to justify her action or her relationship, she just make this less believable.
So for my sanity at the moment I unfollow all the girls and all the people linked to them from all the social media, I will refollow them when the storm is passed, I will suggest other people to do the same.

P.S. I’m sorry for the mistakes English is not my first language🙈”

imagine rami malek trying to figure out how to tweet a cryptic behind-the-scenes picture from the mr. robot set but instead he accidentally uploads a photo of his spaghetti bolognese that he ate the night before. he just leaves the tweet on his page because he doesn’t know he can delete tweets

In Print

Daily prompt fill: “someone keeps printing cute animal pictures/cryptic messages from my wireless printer n im determined to find out who it is” I thought of Nico and I had to write it! Enjoy!


The first time it happens, it’s weird, but Nico doesn’t really think anything of it. She figures some kid in her building was trying to print out a picture of what is really an adorable dog and just had the wrong printer. She wishes they hadn’t printed it in color, but she figures no harm, no foul, and just recycles it. 


 The second time it happens, Nico almost packs up and moves right then and there. This time, it’s not a picture of a cute dog, no, it’s a message, and it seems like someone’s hell-bent on spooking her. That, or her printer really is sentient, like the message proclaims. But, it’s a prank, right? It has to be! It has to be. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello! I love you and your content and pretty much everything you do. I have been concerned however, with the fact that you don't speak out on things like BLM or the Muslim ban, etc. I become very hesitant when "influencers" aren't using their platform to speak on these issues. I think it's important to remember that white silence is violence. Love you and hope you respond.

hey. So my feelings on this are a little difficult, but the only thing I can do is explain myself, and not other influencers. 
So protesting and speaking out is something i do primarily in my personal life. it’s true that sometimes I’ll snapchat cryptic pictures from protests, but I’ve chosen to keep a lot of that personal for 1. my own safety, because with bigger followers come bigger risks that people who disagree with you on political subjects can come and actually harm you. (and harm the people i’m around, or live with) 
so safety is a big boy, and with a meet up in the works, I have to think about the safety of the people who support me too,
and 2. my mental state from even the last few days has been so fucked, and there’s nowhere to go to just get a quick breath of fresh air before diving back in. My favorite shows are now all Trump saturated, i literally can’t enjoy ANYTHING without trump being brought up and like, i can’t hang. I feel so helpless, and constantly have this feeling of, “oh god what’s next.” I’ve expressed this to others, and they all say the same thing. Trump has taken over the media, if it’s pro or againsts, it’s being talked about. So, like I said when I talked about BLM on my channel, as an entertainer, i do feel like I have on obligation to entertain. I feel like the content I make can be a quick breath of fresh air for the people who want to help and offer everything they have, but goddamn just need a minute to diffuse at night. “Turn off the news” isn’t really an option anymore, since my twitter, tumblr, and instagram are at constant war with what’s going on, and like, I’m still tuned in, and i’m still trying my best, but my youtube presence will remain a safe space for everyone to come and enjoy content, and take a minute to unwind and maybe even forget the world around them, maybe even for just twenty minutes. 
I also don’t think people should be getting their news, or base their opinions off of their favorite influencers either. 
tldr; So yeah, for my own safety and sanity, you might not see me post much about what’s going on, but feel free to say what’s up to me at the protests.