2/11/15 MSR for the angsty list....I know....I am an ass.... (but really!!!!! Please write that!!!!)
2 - I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.
11 - You can’t keep hurting me and then demand I apologize instead.
15 - You betrayed me.
Author’s Notes: Okay, this one hurts. Like a kick to the groin kind of hurt. I almost feel bad. It is high angst & will probably piss some of you off. If you proceed – you were warned. Post IWTB.
Two Weeks, Too Cold
It’s been two full weeks since she’s seen him.
She can’t remember the last time she went more than a day without hearing his voice – What’s up, Doc? – watching him as he watched her, or felt his broad chest against her back as he spooned her to sleep.
I won’t be coming home, she had said. Don’t do this, he had begged.
Scully keeps telling herself that she made a mistake by letting him kiss her as she stood in their front yard with tears rolling down her face, by entertaining the notion that they could ever hide from the darkness. It was cruel, she thinks, because even then she knew that she wouldn’t be coming back home.
Which isn’t exactly true, because she did come home, briefly, to gather a bag or two of her belongings. Her chest aches at the memory – of the desperate tears and of his voice breaking on each I’m sorry and please don’t leave me.
That was two weeks ago. Two weeks that have been filled with work, because if she can’t help the man she loves then at least she can help a child breathe. Two weeks filled with too much coffee, because her fingers feel ice cold without his own interlaced with them. Too little sleep, because her skin trembles and aches without his hands there to gentle away the nightmares.
Two weeks, she has decided, is long enough.
I just want to see him, she tells herself as she guides her car onto the long gravel drive that leads to their shared home. The house is modest, but cozy. Most of all, it’s theirs. The few tangible things they’ve shared in the past have been wrenched away from them – but not their home. No blood to scrub out of the carpet, no taped X in the window to summon life-threatening information. It’s just home, and it’s theirs.
She steps out of her car into the crisp air of early morning to pull open the gate, and she smiles to herself. The ritual of it is comforting. Countless mornings and evenings have began and ended with opening this gate, letting herself back into the beautiful, private world she shares with Mulder.
Pulling into her spot in front of the house, she sees a strange car. She frowns curiously. Did he go out and buy a car after I left? She wouldn’t put it past him, except that it would require his actually leaving the house (and nothing short of a psychic priest has convinced him to do so thus far).
On her walk to the front door, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs at the thought of seeing him again. It’s only been two weeks, she chides herself. Still, she expects that he may be angry. When he’s hurt, he tends to deflect – in his case, that means petulant withdrawal and an abundance of sarcasm.
She draws in a deep breath and unlocks the door. He may still be asleep, she realizes as she steps into quiet darkness. It’s just after five o’clock in the morning. Just because she hasn’t been able to rest doesn’t mean he can’t.
But oh, she’s finally home. She closes her eyes, relishing the smell of Mulder’s aftershave mingled with the scent of the roses he had delivered to her office just a week before those goddamned agents showed up at the hospital. She remembers bringing them home, carefully tucking them into a vase of water. They’re beautiful, she had told him. Not as beautiful as you, he had replied, his hand tucked against the small of her back.
“Who are you?”
Scully starts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, opening her eyes to see a woman standing at the threshold where kitchen becomes living room.
Tall. Brunette. Holding a glass of water. Wearing only a t-shirt and a confused expression.
“This is my house,” Scully says, the words scraping past a throat that has gone as dry as desert sand. “Who are you?”
The woman stares back, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt uncomfortably.
No, not her t-shirt. Mulder’s t-shirt. Scully’s favorite shirt that Mulder owns, because it’s soft and worn and somehow still smells like the cologne he wore the first time she slept in his arms, even after all these years.
I’m going to be sick, this is not happening, oh Mulder what is going on…
The woman finally speaks, clearing her throat. “He – he said he lived alone.”
I’ve wandered into the wrong house, Scully thinks numbly. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.
But no. That’s Mulder’s shirt, and that’s the drinking glass my mother gave to me when we moved here. That’s the couch where Mulder and I made love less than a month ago.
This can’t be the wrong house, because that’s Mulder. He’s standing in front of her, and he’s not wearing my favorite shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt at all, and he looks terrified, and oh God I’m going to be sick…
“Mulder?” Her voice sounds tiny. Her hands are still freezing, but now her palms are sweating as her stomach churns. Please explain this, Mulder, she begs silently. Please please please please.
“Who is she?” When the other woman speaks again, Scully wants to scream at her. She has no right to ask that. Scully is the one who should be demanding an explanation. She’s the one who deserves an answer. Not this stranger, with her morning-after hair and her long smooth legs brushing the hem of Mulder’s shirt.
I’m going to be sick.
“Mulder?” This time, her voice is louder, sharper, less please tell me this isn’t what it looks like and more how fucking could you.
He doesn’t acknowledge the other woman’s inquiry, instead stepping toward Scully with his hand outstretched. “Scully,” he begins, and her name on his lips tells her all she needs to know. She’s heard him speak her names countless times – calling to her for help, playfully teasing her, comforting her in times of distress, moaning in ecstasy as she coaxes him to climax, even shouting in anger during a particularly intense argument.
Never – never – has he said her name with this desperate, helpless tone threaded through it.
The woman has disappeared, and Scully can hear her in the bedroom – our bedroom – gathering her things, probably eager to get away from this house – our house – and whatever is about to happen between them.
Mulder moves forward, and she sees panic etched into the lines of his face.
She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as the full realization of what’s happening settles over her. “No,” she chokes, swallowing against a throatful of stomach acid. “No, no, no.”
“I’m sorry, Scully, please let me explain.”
Her eyes fly open, and she wraps her arms around herself. “Explain?” Her voice catches on a sob. “What is there to explain?” She stares at his face, his beautiful face, and it’s more than she can take, his eyes full of regret. She backs away, grappling for the doorknob.
“Scully, don’t leave. Please.”
“Two weeks, Mulder!” Her stomach aches, her head pounds, and I need to get out of here, this is not happening. “I was gone two fucking weeks!”
She is hot and cold at the same time, her clammy palms sliding against the doorknob as her fingers shake uncontrollably. She feels the heat of his body behind her, and oh God, she wants to lean into him, just to warm her hands, but nonononono, she has to leave, she cannot stay another minute in this house.
When he places a hand against her shoulder, her entire body recoils. “Get the hell away from me,” she gasps, her breaths coming in shorter spurts now, her lungs burning.
The doorknob finally relents, and she shoves against the door, stumbling outside where it’s still so cold, it’s not home, and she can’t breathe, and fuck you Mulder how dare you how fucking dare you.
He follows her across the yard. “Scully, please.”
She doesn’t break stride or respond. She’s almost to her car when she feels his hand catch the arm of her coat. She jerks free, but his grasp is lighter than she expected, and the heel of her boot slides against a leftover patch of ice.
Under any other circumstance, she would have caught herself. The reflexes instilled in her all those years ago in FBI field training never failed her before, but she can’t even catch her breath so how is supposed to support her full weight?
Maybe she doesn’t even want to.
Her knee meets the ground with a sharp crunch, and she hisses in pain.
Immediately, Mulder is at her side. “Oh God,” he says, and reaches for her again. She slaps his hand away, and finally the tears she’s been fighting break through, streaming hot against her chilled face.
“In our bed, Mulder,” she says bitterly, leaning back against the tire of her car. “I was gone two weeks, and you fucked someone in my bed.” She tries to suck in a lungful of air, but is met with resistance when the breath halts on a sob. So this is what suffocation feels like.
“I was drunk,” he whispers miserably.
“When are you not?”
He flinches, but continues. “I don’t know what happened. Scully, I don’t even know her.”
“Where did you meet her, Mulder?” She glares through her tears. “All this time, while I’ve been working, have you just been out meeting women to bring back to our home? Our bed?”
“Of course not,” he breathes, staring at her in horror. “Never. You know me better than that.”
“I thought I did,” she whispers brokenly. “I never believed you would do this. Not in a million years, Mulder.”
“Neither did I.“ His voice is pitiful and sincere.
She swallows thickly. “You betrayed me.”
He sinks all the way down beside her. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know, and I’m so sorry.” There is a heavy silence between them for a moment before he adds, “Scully, you left me.”
Scully shifts to face him, and grits her teeth against the pain that the motion sends shooting through her knee. “You’re unbelievable,” she spits venomously. “You screw another woman in my bed, on the sheets you bought for me on my last birthday, and you’re making this my fault?” She fumbles with the top of the tire, trying to pull herself to her feet.
“Scully, stop,” Mulder pleads. “You’re hurt – your leg.”
“You’re damn right I’m hurt,” she snaps. “And it has nothing to do with my leg.”
She gives up on standing for the moment. “You never answered my question,” she tells him, her eyes burning hot into his.
“Where did you meet her? I’ve never known you to socialize, but clearly, there are a few parts of your character I somehow missed in all our years together.”
He stares at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I went on a walk and ended up at a bar. It’s a couple miles down the road. I had more than I planned, and she – she offered to drive me home.”
Scully folds her arms tightly around her midsection. The tire is wreaking havoc on her back, but she barely notices.
“Classy, Mulder.” She closes her eyes again, but the tears fall anyway.
He sighs. “You left, Scully. You just left, and you wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”
Scully tenses as another wave of nausea washes over her. “I left because you wouldn’t leave the house unless it was to spiral back into your fucking paranoid obsessions!”
She covers her face with both hands. “You can’t keep doing this,” she sobs. “You can’t keep hurting me, and then demand that I apologize instead.”
“When have I done that?” His voice is laced with disbelief. “When have I ever done that, Scully?”
Fuck you Mulder fuck you fuck you fuck you –
“Fuck you,” she cries, gripping the edge of the tire again and heaving herself to her feet. “I don’t need you.”
She ignores the throbbing in her knee when she puts weight on it. “I don’t need anyone,” she says, her voice breaking. “I think we both know I’ve survived greater losses.” She wrestles with her purse, digging for her keys. “But it’s fine. I don’t need any of you.”
Mulder touches her shoulder, and she shrugs him away again. “Don’t touch me.” She yanks her car door open. “I told you to get away from me.”
“Scully, I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “You may not need me, but I need you. I always have.”
“You didn’t need me last night,” she tosses back viciously as she forces key into ignition. “I can’t take care of you anymore, Mulder. Figure it out.”
He positions his body so that she is blocked from closing the door. “Scully,” he tries again, his voice echoing with despair. “I’m begging you. Please. You came back for a reason. Please don’t leave again.”
Her chin trembles as she answers him in a voice as brittle as dry ice. “I left for a reason, too.”
She grasps the door handle in her hand despite the remaining tremors. “Move.”
He slowly backs away, and at last she sees tears shining in his eyes. It’s too late, it’s too much this time, I can’t.
The sound of her slamming door causes him to jump. The pressure she places on her gas pedal makes her moan with pain as her knee protests the movement.
When she glances in her rearview mirror, she sees a tear-blurred image of her entire world, standing with his arms hanging helplessly at his sides.
He’s still not wearing a shirt, she realizes.
Go back inside, Mulder. It’s too cold out here.
I would know.
Before you ask, yes, there will almost certainly be a follow-up.
I always saw Liam as this hard serious guy. I had no idea he was so soft and lovable. And also that he dealt with bullying and stuff like that which is really relatable. He deserves all the love but I feel like he's really under appreciated. So I've made it my mission to post more positive things about him
he was definitely more serious (and viewed by the fandom as the ‘serious’ one too) in the very early years but he’s also a gigantic dork who loves goofing off with the other boys (usually louis lmao) and yeah he’s got a very big heart and clearly loves his boys and the fans SO MUCH.
it’s funny because it’s almost hard for me to reconcile the 2010/2011 liam with current liam because i feel like he’s grown so much and he’s really let himself enjoy things more and just embrace his silly side:
Oliver being sorry for a woman who used him and posed threat to his entire team on losing her job and yet…
We never seen Oliver be sorry on screen when Felicity lost her job as
-the IT girl
That just DOES NOT fit.
I’m not saying it’s a character development issue (because I’m sure he was sorry OFF SCREEN) - yet it seems like that when we’re not shown his reaction to something like this repeatedly on screen and then suddenly shown the same for a random female love interest with no impact on the plot whatsoever.
i know i’ve said this before but I still keep seeing ads for bearded dragons and leopard geckos that say “I want to rehome him because I don’t have time to handle him as much as I should” and like… girl lizard don’t care. Lizard would be chill if you literally ignored them for the rest of their life and just chucked food in their cage. As long as you clean their poops, give them fresh water, and provide a good diet for them, you literally never have to handle them if you don’t want to. They’re not going to get sad because you never get them out. They don’t care.
Felix loves only two things in life 1) hiding in dark crevices and 2) bugs. He would not care if he ever saw me again, as long as there are bugs, he’s warm, and he’s got a place to hide. He is literally almost zero investment of my time. Like I feed him bugs every few days, clean his poops once a week or so (he poops in one spot), change his paper towels if they get messy or wet (they rarely do because he is very neat), and mist his damp hide about once a week. I very rarely even see him. He hates me and that’s ok.
How many of you has preordered Switch? Or asked for it on your bday or something? ;3c
I wish I could preorder it right now!!! I’ve spotted a good preorder deal but…ahhh!!! I’m helping my mom with her treatment and divorce and I have no tablet… I wish I could just ask for it for my birthday, like, it’s the best bday present this year?? I would have gotten it by now if I didn’t have to run away from my father and pay for my mother’s treatment aaaa 😢 But yeah one day… One day good karma will get back to me, or so I hope. And I will never let go of those neon joycons.
DAY 4: Domestic or Long distance (Domestic headcanons both prompts are amazing but I guess I did a lot of long distance in social media one)
Otabek and Yuri would definitely want to live together. After few years of knowing each other (I headcanon it as being something like Yuri’s 21 birthdays or sth) they just decide “Fuck this shit we have to be able to see each other more than 2 days in few months” and they’re buying apartament together.
Probably in St. Petersburg, because of reasons.
And their living together is living with your best friend and love of your life added. They’re sharing a room with ass huge bed and wardrobe as much big (because all Yuri’s fancy clothes, pls).
The ass huge bed isn’t even needed, Yuri is such clingy asshole that when he glues himself to Otabek’s side, he won’t let go all night. God bless Otabek is calm sleeper.
Apartament is huge, too, so Yuri is too happy to be able to adopt more than his one cat. So he adopts two, why not. And they’re threating them like their children.
They don’t have too much time spending at the house, because studies and trainings, so all the time they are together there, they’re spending in close distance with each other. Even if they’re not afraid of showing their love in front of other people, they don’t want to be like Yuuri and Viktor.
Yuri, growing up with not too loving enviornment (of course, except his grandpa, because please), has to learn how to be close with other person, but he’s fast at that, and after month living with Otabek he is willing to never let go of him.
Otabek, in the other hand, was taught being affectionate, so he loves every touch he gets and is even more happy to give them back.
So they always make up at home. They love cuddling watching movies, Otabek being big spoon, embracing Yuri and making him relax. When they’re on their phones, it’s Otabek who puts his head on Yuri’s knees or belly, and gets head massage.
They LOVE cooking together? They have so much fun doing this, always joking and making mess, but they’re both good with cooking, so delicious food is always sure in their household.
And I believe Otabek loves plants, so they have a lot of them? Like flowers, and herbs, and he’s taking care of them a lot, making special places where their cats won’t destroy them.
Yuri’s favorite activity is surprising Otabek with hugs from behind or random kisses.
Their biggest problem is when Otabek tries to be affectionate with Yuri, like meeting him in hallway and starts kissing, it never ends quickly; Yuri just melts, and they can stay like that for 15+ minutes (most of the time it ends with bed tho)
They love mornings together. Otabek is ALWAYS first to wake up, goes to kitchen to make a coffee (the best coffee in the world, may I add), and then comes back to Yuri, who is still sleeping. Otabek always smiles, pushes away Yuri’s long blonde hair from his face and kissing him at the place he can reach, it being an eye, cheek or forehead. Yuri then smiles too, say something beautiful like “Hello, asshole”, and they’re spending some time drinking coffee, with easy smiles and sleepy eyes. Then they can start the day like normal people.
I'm a beginner artist and I'm getting really depressed because I can't draw beautiful things like you.. Can you give me some words for cheer me up, please? And I wanted to ask how should I do neat lines like you? But I can't draw neat lines, the sketch is fine but when it comes to transform it in the drawing it sucks, help me Ally Sensei ;-; Btw I love your art and your blog, it inspires me a lot and when I look at your art I can't just help but want to draw like you one day, saranghae ❤❤💞
one thing i’ve learnt is to not force myself into an art style that just /isn’t/ me! you hate lineart and love your sketches more? WORK with your sketch instead and make IT into the lineart!
it might take you awhile to find solutions to make what you’re comfortable with into a coherent and appeasing product, but know that even if it looks bad/awkward, it’ll be something you’re gonna look back at and say “damn, i’m so glad i kept at it and got to where i am today”
I’ve been a bit busy for these last weeks but have something small to share with you. For my rebuild of Willow Creek a.k.a. Oak Ridge. I needed more white wood tones to match the style I have in mind for this world (Down South fibes). Read further below for the download link!
^^^^^ exactly. I’m always mindful not to let my love of Killian blind me when he makes a bad move, and I have to be careful that I don’t let my severe dislike of Regina color my perception of the good things she does do. She does a lot of questionable and bad thing’s, and like you said, seems to get a pass on them as of late. But that doesn’t mean EVERYTHING she does is bad. And just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean I have to view everything she does as bad.
Especially if I have to ignore intention and twist facts in order to do so, which ship and character haters across the entire fandom do.
I’m that way, too. I’m obviously biased for Emma and Hook. Especially Emma … I will defend her a LOT but she makes mistakes and I have to see that.
I have grown to really dislike Regina and it does make my perception of her actions lean towards negative so I try to just not talk about her too much. But I can appreciate a good scene. I really enjoyed her and Emma’s conversation at Underworld Granny’s when she gives Emma advice on how to get Hook to think he deserves to be saved. That was really the first time that I saw a friendship there. But a lot of the anti ER crowd just focused on her saying Emma was too good for Hook and missed the lovely friendship moment.
I'm so happy that the Tomlinson have Dan. You really can see that he loves them so much. I can't even imagine how hard was to him :(
honestly i have so much respect and love for dan deakin. because he didn’t just love jay, you know, he loved all of them and really took them into his heart and is now continuing to love them and care for them and support them (and vice versa) like he’s such a great man.
It makes me so happy to see hash brown is doing well and eggs is getting lots of praise and love and sweets. Good boys deserve the best things in life
Honestly, when we thought she wasn’t going to make it my husband and I just sat in the waiting room crying like babies. She sleeps between our heads every single night and we couldn’t imagine losing her. I made the first post in part because I was just so scared and needed someone else to hope with me that it’d turn out okay.
You guys were all so, so amazing and sent us so many wonderful messages. It was legitimately a massive help knowing all these people care about our her just like we do. My personality is the type where I immediately beat myself up for anything bad that happens, and this time was no different. I kept thinking if I could have done something differently to prevent her accident or find her sooner. But between the vet telling me that it was 100% not our fault and all of you being so supportive, I was able to calm down and just focus on doing what I needed to for Hash Brown.
So, to everyone who messaged me: Thank you so much. YOU deserve all the best things in life, too. People talk about the hate you see on the internet a lot, and even though that’s a very real thing there are also so many wonderful people that do things like support my silly dreams on Patreon and send prayers to my cats when they’re hurt. Thank you for being wonderful.