i think its awesome that its

anonymous asked:

Would you be open to writing something with Mulder helping Scully with something wonderfully domestic long before they become involved? Like moving house, fixing the sink, paining the apartment...UST!

I absolutely loved this prompt - thank you so much, anon! I hope you like it. Set between Redux and Detour. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

“Mulder, what are you doing this weekend?“ There is no reason to be nervous, Scully reminds herself as she presses the phone against her ear and winds the cord tightly around her finger. It’s just Mulder.

"Not much. Shoot some hoops, maybe. Why, do you have any tantalizing x-files lying around, Scully?" He chuckles at his own, really not so funny, joke. 

"No, I could just use your… help. For something.” The cord bites into her skin leaving a red mark. Scully considers hanging up the phone and claiming she was high on painkillers. 

“My help? Always, Scully. What do you need me to do?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Scully, come on. What is it?”

“I need to paint my bedroom and the doctor said I should refrain from strenuous activities so-”

“He’s right, Scully. You’re barely out of the hospital. I’ll gladly help you, but don’t you think it’s too soon?” Scully gnaws on her lip. That’s exactly what her mother said, too. If it were up to her, Scully would spend the next few weeks or even months in a bed recuperating. Having ditched certain death, all Scully wants is to do things. Live. Because it’s the one thing she thought she’d never get to do again. She beat cancer. Clearly, she can paint her bedroom.

“I’m fine, Mulder.” He groans in frustration on the other end of the line. “I really am. I know I have to take it slowly and I’m doing that. I just need to paint that wall.” He is quiet for a moment, a tell-tale sign that he’s thinking. Scully imagines him licking his lips trying to come up with the right words. She is not ready to spill her secret just yet. The reason why the paint job can’t wait.

“What time should I come over?”

*

Saturday morning and the hardware store is crowded. Mulder listlessly pushes their cart along the broad aisles and she has to grab it a few times to prevent a collision with another cart or person.

“You didn’t tell me we still had to buy the paint.” Mulder sounds like a moody child and Scully is about to tell him to stop being such a baby when he abruptly comes to a standstill. It’s too late to stop herself from crashing into him.

“Mulder, what!”

“Scully, look at this,” her eyes follow Mulder’s pointing finger, “what do you think?" 

"It’s cut lumber, Mulder.” He nods, staring at the cut pieces and panels as if they were extraterrestrial entities. Scully briefly wonders when Mulder has last stepped foot in a hardware store. Or if he ever has.

“I could build you a new kitchen cabinet.” His voice is more excited about that prospect than it should be.

“Nothing is wrong with my kitchen cabinet, Mulder. I am very happy with my furniture. What we need is paint.” She tugs at his sleeve and he starts moving again. As if she’d ever let Mulder alone with a hammer and nails. They spend enough time in and out of hospitals as it is. 

They make it to the paint aisle without further disruption. Mulder stares at Scully, at the colors and back at her. 

“I think I should stick with white. What do you think, Mulder?" 

"You really don’t want to ask me about colors.” Mulder’s finger traces a soft aquatic color and then turns to her. There’s a soft, almost shy smile on his face. “Reminds me of your eyes. But uhm, that’s probably not the color you want in your bedroom.” He clears his voice. Scully, touched yet slightly embarrassed, lets his comment slide and moves on to the whites. 

“Silver Feather or Morocco Sand.” She mumbles, examining the colors closely.

“Scully, it’s the same color. They’re both white!”

“No, they’re not. Look,” Scully is interrupted by another couple, matching grins and clothes, apparently hoping for some advice, “the Morocco Sand is a touch darker.”

“Silver Feather works great in bedrooms,” the woman tells them with a wink, “reflects the morning sunlight just beautifully.”

“I think I want Morocco Sand, Mulder.” Scully mumbles quickly and pushes Mulder to get the cans. The couple keeps moving to the reds and Scully takes a deep breath. 

“Are you sure, Scully? I think Silver Feather looks really nice.”

“You just said they looked the same!”

“I was wrong. Let’s buy Silver Feather." She doesn’t object.

*

Scully feels as if she’s in a movie. In one of Mulder’s videos that aren’t his. She watches as Mulder, shirtless and with low-riding jeans, moves the furniture in her bedroom. Moaning from the physical exertion. The play of his back muscles as he puts protective plastic on the ground is mesmerizing. 

"Should we get started?" He stands in front of the naked wall, hands on his hips. Scully nods, her mouth slightly open. Water. She needs a glass of water. Ice cold. 

"Do you- are you thirsty, Mulder?”

“Oh yeah.” He basically groans. Scully walks into the kitchen, heat following her, and when she pours the glasses, Mulder is suddenly close behind. Scully almost lets go of the glass but quickly recovers and pushes it into his hands. Her fingers brush against his hot, naked chest. Mulder gulps down the water and grins at her.

“Let’s get this paint on the wall, Scully.”

It turns out Mulder puts as much energy into painting a wall as he does in everything else he considers important. She tried to help but Mulder makes her take a break every five minutes. ‘I’ve got this, Scully,’ he told her, ‘sit down and relax. You can watch and criticize.’ She tries to find fault in his brush strokes, but he seems to know what he’s doing. So instead Scully looks for her old radio, dusts it off, and soon soft music fills the room. Whenever a song comes on Mulder likes, he starts whistling, badly. Then Elvis starts singing. Mulder lets go of the pain brush, turns to Scully who sits cross-legged on the plastic, half reading a medical journal. Mulder offers her his hand.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” She laughs.

“Just one dance, Scully. Please. It’s Elvis!” She puts her hand in his, convinced. Small drops of paint are splattered on his arms and his chest. His still very naked chest. Scully loses herself in the warmth of his skin, the feel of his muscles. Her thin cotton shirt is the only barrier between their chests, barely there at all. Her hands are on his back, skin touching skin. 

“Hmm, you gotta love Elvis.” Mulder croons into her ear, his hands on her back drawing small circles. She wishes she’d put on a bit more weight already. He must be able to feel her ribs against his fingertips. Scully makes a mental note to have a big lunch, maybe something with fries. Mulder, she is certain, won’t need to be convinced.

The melody picks up and Mulder doesn’t miss a beat, twirls them around. He laughs at her and the sound is so infectious that she giggles, hides her face against his chest. Suddenly he dips her and Scully squeals. Her eyes, upside down, land on that spot on the wall. She one she wanted to forget. The one that started the whole thing. The music stops, Scully stands upright, tries not to let Mulder see her change in mood.

“Scully? Are you all right? Are you dizzy? I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Mulder. That’s not…” Scully stares at the wall again. The smallest imperfection in a sea of white. 

“What is it?” His voice is soft and she knows the exact moment he sees it. Mulder crouches down, the plastic rustling under him. He touches his finger to the spot, now a pale, distorted orange color. Scully hugs herself, feeling cold. 

“What… what…” But Mulder doesn’t finish his sentence, whatever it is.

“One night,” Scully takes a deep breath, “one night my nosebleed was so bad. I didn’t see anything. It was everywhere. I crashed into the wall, I think, trying to get to the bathroom. I didn’t see the blood on the wall until later and then it was too late." 

"Oh Scully." 

"I didn’t want to look at it anymore. Be reminded of it. I know it’s stupid but-”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all.” Mulder picks up the paint brush and dips it into the can. Then he hands it to Scully. Soft white droplets drip to the floor as he waits for her to take it. Her hand is unreasonably shaky as she reaches for it. Mulder doesn’t let go and she eyes him, a questioning look on her face.

“Let’s start a new chapter, huh?” He asks her. Scully nods and together they paint over the blood, over the past until it shimmers silvery white and new.

3

Ỳ̴̭͉́̂̀̽̀͘͠͠ǫ̷̩̱̳̬̙͙̀̈̄͐̀̏̆̐̓̔͆̚͜ͅu̴̧̢͒̉͘'̴̺͚̐̿̂̿̈́̏͒͗̈́͘r̶̡̡̢̢̬͎̻̤̱̪̹͔̰͊̏̚͜ȅ̸̡̛͎̘̤̄̇̂͐̅̏̒͂̆ ̸̗͈͊͋̑̀͠j̸̡̛͎̲̗̥̗̓̓̓̿̅͜͝͠ǘ̸̫̭̟̠̮̪̱̼͇̘͐̒̔̒̏̕s̶̛̛͍̳̎̓̆̐͋͒̈́̃̍̒͋͜͝͠t̷̢͎̝̠͔̠̦͚͎̘̍͛ ̷̜͊w̷̨͛̈́͐͝͝á̷̢͉̞̳͕͉̦̯͔͓̫̠̯͊͊̂̎̚ẗ̶̛̹̺̹͔̲́̆̿͌́̍͐͊c̴̨̢͔̘͈̟̞̖͖̈́̋̓̐̃̃̆̀̓̈͂̀͝͝h̸̛̪̙̫̹̝̝̳̘̱̪͂̒͜͝i̵̡̡̝̘͓̳͕̠̘̘͈͉̥̳͑n̸̩͕͕͐͊̃͒̈́̀͂͐̆̽̓͘ģ̸̧̧̲̝͙̺̠̱̝̬̙͈̎̂̉̏̓̈́̋̓̄̊̀̓̔͘͘ͅ

Let me introduce you to three of my friends: hallucigenia, opabinia, and wiwaxia. They’re all from the Cambrian explosion, the period of time around 500 million years ago when life was just starting and was still trying to figure out questions like “how should a mouth work?” and “legs?”

Hallucigenia was about an inch long (most life back then was tiny, they were only a few eras removed from being single celled after all) and it had sixteen clawed legs, hard spines coming out of its back, and a wicked tentacle neckbeard. 

Opabinia was between two to three inches long and it had thirty fins along the side of its body, along with five mushroom shaped eyes on top of its head. By far though, its most interesting feature was its strange proboscis. Like a Dr. Moreau style mashup of an elephant and a lobster, the long nose terminated in a large claw that it used to grab prey and bring it to its backward facing mouth.

Finally, this is wiwaxia. This danger-artichoke was a two inch long armored slug-like creature with no head. In fact, its actual body was largely just its one massive foot. 

I find these animals interesting for three main reasons. First, it’s incredibly fascinating to see all of the potential paths that life on earth could have taken. Imagine an ocean filled with elephant lobsters! Second, whenever I feel like my life is going nowhere and all my choices are the wrong ones, I like to think that I’m in in my phase where I’m still developing hallucigenias and wiwaxias, and not yet making awesome things like butterflies or velociraptors. Finally - it serves as a stark reminder that if we ever find alien life, there is a fantastic chance it will look like nothing we’ve ever seen before - it might look more like one of these creatures than a human being. 

Girls don’t want boys, girls want Dragon Age Origins remastered with Inquisition graphics.

The original The Sims game was inherently dark and kind of creepy.

Is it just me?

When I first bought the game back in 2001, I remember it being addictive, awesome, groundbreaking for its time and wonderfully odd. When compared to the later, sweeter installments, and even its many expansion packs, it feels cold and well…kind of creepy in comparison.

The original How to Play instruction manual for The Sims, which I remember vividly but could never find in my house, was snarky and full of witty commentary. Later on the manual was more straightforward, but still retained some of the self-referential humor that is inherent in the gameplay and is, I think, part of what makes the game kind of unnerving.

(To this day, I wish I could find that damn original manual!)

Just looking at that main screen with that one neighborhood you’re forever attached to as the jaunty background music plays in the ever-sunny world, even that kind of weirds me out. 

Maybe it’s the uncanny valley-ness of the dated graphics, maybe it’s remembering the way the kids never aged, how the adults remained awkward and odd and never got any older, and how if the children failed school, they were just sent off to some horrific place only known as “boot camp”…forever. Yes, remember? They NEVER came back.

And when those burglars came stalking in the night and the Buy and Build modes just shut off as that scary, urgent music played and you were left helpless and asleep…

And when the fires started out of nowhere while your Sims made that same plate of salad-looking food and you forgot to install a smoke alarm and you were forced to watch them hopelessly burn to death and run around screaming for their lives…

And in the first expansion pack, Livin’ Large, when that awful Tragic Clown appeared and made it impossible for your Sim to rest or eat until they fell ill and eventually just died unless you put that eerie clown portrait in front of the fireplace…if you even figured that out…

Sure, things got more mellow and felt less odd with later expansion packs, especially when you were given the ability to visit shopping areas like Old Town and other places outside of the claustrophobic little classic neighborhood.

And OK, I’m not saying The Sims is a scary game or even that it freaked me out as a child, but I will always look back on the original as being, well…kinda creepy.

she was a queen
with neither crown nor kingdom,
the most powerful piece on the board
with no moves left to make,
so she overturned the table.
—  l.s.CHRYSALIS © 2016

Now make a face that puts the bad guys in their place
‘Til they regret the decisions they made that day
That led to standing in your way
- Warrior Face

2

Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.

- “No, friends protect people.”

3

Don’t touch my man men, boy

Bonus:

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 are here!

10

bizmyth  asked:

have you heard about/listened to 'the adventure zone'? it's a podcast. I think it's something you'd like, esp if you like lots of characters creating a found family and complex but awesome relationships between those characters. I'd also love to see your interpretation of the characters if you do get into it.

i actually just started listening to taz recently! i do like both of those things and i also hear it has canon girlfriends later on which im all about!! im not very far in (like.. halfway thru rockport limited? i think) and i havent really decided on designs for the boys yet, but heres number one regulator of my heart killian

anonymous asked:

(1/6) "Well you've caught me, Hunter," the Jinn sneered, not even bothering to stand up. Dean untied the only still-living victim - a recent catch who was able to run, and run he quickly did. Dean checked the ammo in his gun with detached muscle memory. "Well?" the Jinn prompted, annoyed. "On your feat," Dean said. The Jinn smirked. "Ah, want me to stand for my execution." Dean watched him without seeing him; his mind focused on something more important and final. "No, not that," Dean said.

(2/6) The Jinn narrowed his eyes - skeptical. “Then what? Torture?” It was Dean’s turn to smirk, a sad turn of his mouth. “It is worse than death, isn’t it…” he said quietly to himself. Then fixed his gaze once more. “Look, I know Jinn don’t grant wishes,” Dean said. “I know how this ride works because I’ve been on it before. It’s all a lie - a dream - a gilded cage. But–” Dean swallowed and blinked, strengthening what was left of his resolve. “If this is the real world… I’ll take the lie.”

(3/6) Dean’s hand was on the door. He couldn’t remember what he was doing. He just stood there, confused. Then the door opened for him from the other side and a woman greeted him warmly. “There you are,” she said with a smile and a friendly touch. “Come on, we’re doing presents soon.” She pulled Dean into the room. “Mom?” Dean half-choked, blinking at the brightness of it all. There was a Christmas tree with lights and presents, and there was cake and pie and drinks on the all bunker tables.

(4/6) “What is all this?” Dean asked. “Something we should have done a long time ago,” his mother beamed. She caught Sam’s eye and wandered off to stand with him as he introduced her to the girl under his arm - Eileen. “Hey Dean–” said Kevin, before Charlie ambushed him in a hug. “Sorry, tried to warn you,” Kevin shrugged. The two kids went off to get snacks. Dean stared in disbelief. The more he looked the more faces he recognized. His heart ached for it but he felt it growing lighter now.

(5/6) Yet something told him this was all too good to be true. It couldn’t happen like this. But here it was. Why couldn’t he just accept that. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, taking a slow deep breath. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Feeling okay?” The voice washed over him like a powerful ocean. And Dean remembered. He was okay. It was Christmas. And everyone was here. He opened his eyes. “It’s you,” he said. “Of course,” Cas smiled. Dean sighed. Everything was–

(6/6) “Dean! Dean, wake up. Come on!” The world was dark. The world was pain and aches and cold. His body was being shaken. The side of his face sting from the hard slap. “Dean!” The voice said as his eyes fluttered open. The blurry shape came into focus. Sam. Bringing him back. On the ground the Jinn was dead. And Dean remembered. Everyone was– Everything was– was– “Dean?” Sam said, gripping his shoulders. “It’s okay now.” Dean closed his eyes again and let out a quiet breath. “–no.”

Originally posted by fraddit

I wanted to contribute to the Voltron fandom with some Klance!

You know what i really love about Louise from Bob’s Burgers? Despite being the “evil mastermind” she’s still just a little girl. She still gets crushes on boy band members, and she still wears dresses, and she still loves her stuffed animals and has a favourite toy, which she’s named. She does voices for them too, she hates taking medicine, and above all she loves her family. She’s just a little kid and her mischievous abilities never undermine that, and I think it’s just really awesome. Kudos to the writers for making her so real

2

“You guys are still talking about original Lance? Come on! There’s a way cooler one standing right here!”