my next gf

drabble; let me tell you bout my best friend

for @leiascully’s fic challenge “rest”

drabble; pg-13; msr origins (i.e. friendship); FLUFF; set season two, pre-abduction; Scully stays up a little too late solving a case with Mulder.


Even the solitary light from the fish tank feels a little risky, though his apartment passed so many of the gunmen’s bug sweeps he’s now pretty sure they just wanted to hang out. With a crappy pair of birdwatching binoculars anybody could look in and find them there. Sitting right next to the tank her face is cast in blue and shadows over and looks a little psychedelic. Watching her mouth move around hypersyllabic words like ileus and meconium is a lot like a day trip he took at Oxford. But at this time of night the world itself is also hazy and unreal; this is his time, his realm, the only part of day that brings him a little peace. Normally he spends this time alone. He finds her presence isn’t such a nuisance.

And it’s not as if anyone in the Bureau actually cares anymore. They have been declared Impotent and A Sad Sad Joke. How many times has he showed up in her lecture hall unkempt and uncaring, sporting his hair wild on purpose and miserable eyes, less purposeful but nevertheless useful? He likes upsetting her students, who have all heard plenty of stories about good old Spooky, respectable Dr. Scully’s maniac ex-partner. She would slice and dice and maim the dearly departed and try not to laugh as he hissed at anyone who stopped paying attention and dared looking his way.

When the shitstorm settles he consults her on cases and neglects Agent Krycek like a Christmas puppy. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with Agent Krycek; he’s a shoo in for S.A.C. of some bullshit unit that receives way more funding than the files ever did, what with his penchant for every-inch-of-both-cheeks ass kissing and the size of his biceps. Mulder will only get in his way. He figures he’s saving the kid some pain.

Anyway, Agent Krycek can’t look at macramed intestines and tell him if they appear to be the intricate work of a voodoo priestess. Scully can’t tell him that either, would die before saying such a thing, but it’s way more fun to try and make her.

They’ve been at it for three hours and Mulder is getting to the best part, using polaroids instead of his slides to illustrate – something about colorectal balloon animals in the 1970s – when he turns to find Scully gently tipping forward and nodding her head. Her eyes flutter shut and she slumps over.

He quickly catches her by grabbing her shoulder with one hand and using the other to cup her cheek. “Scully? Hey.” He taps her face twice. “Scully, are you okay?”

Her eyes snap open and she scrambles back into the couch, her wide eyed stare flitting around the room like a sightless moth. When she comes back to herself, she shoots him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry Mulder,” she says, rubbing at a sore spot on her neck. She winces. “I must have fallen asleep.”

He stares at her oddly. Scully falls asleep anywhere anytime at the drop of a hat or her blood sugar, but she has never, ever done it mid-conversation. Not even that time he talked at her for a straight hour on his own by himself without noticing that she had started taking notes to formulate her responses.

His eyes fall on the clock and it hits him: its’s one o'clock in the goddamn morning. Scully has a new life now, classes to teach and dead bodies to harass and other, lesser units to appease, and she’s spending time with him like nothing has changed. When did he approach her with this case? He can’t remember, only because he hadn’t bothered keeping track. Before lunch, definitely, and they’d been together the entire time after. Scully is effectively splitting herself in two, her life with him and her life without him, and in this realm at this hour she is still his partner and the idea of her at Quantico is an empty threat when he sticks her with all the filing.

“You need to go to bed,” he gently chides, scooping up his polaroids and newspaper clippings and their mugs gone cold on the coffee table.

“Mmm, I think you’re right,” she says around a yawn, stretching and popping her limbs one by one. The sound makes him cringe. “I don’t know if my bed has ever sounded so appealing.”

He’s too caught in his own head to respond with an inappropriate zinger. He places the mugs in his sink, drops the photos back in their file.

“Take the couch,” he says distractedly, tugging on a doorknob. With much effort he’s able to strong arm his way through the tremendous clutter and cardboard-box war zone that is his bedroom without alerting her to how pathetic he is. He nearly breaks his neck slipping on a stack of vintage porno mags, but there in the middle of a decrepit bed frame rests exactly what he’s looking for: a sleeping bag and a stack of extra pillows .

With trademark focus he ignores her protestations and sets up his station, throwing down pillows that will support the weak spots in his spine and unrolling the bag like a good little camper.

“Mulder, seriously. There’s no need for this.” But she’s slurring and her body is so heavy she can’t stay upright. “ I can drive home just fine. Let me make myself some coffee. You’re being ridiculous. This is where you sleep.”

“Just go to bed, Scully,” he tells her. He repeats it when she says no. Time for bed Scully. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up early. And she eventually does fall asleep, succumbs to the mental exhaustion of arguing with him.

In a fashion that creeps him out a little he stares at her well into deep sleep, propped against the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. He feels tired just looking at her, the yearning to lie down calling to him a little more urgently than he’s used to.

Before he crawls into his bag he stands before her, looking into her slack and open face. It’s crazy and weird and definitely spooky. But this is driving him nuts. He leans down and slowly brushes an errant lock of hair out of her eye. Okay. Good.

Crawling into his bag he understands what’s bogging him down. Dana Scully is not living her double life as his partner, but as his friend. And somewhere along the line he became hers, too.

tfw you almost kill your girlfriend so you chew out your tongue to make it up to her.

Vampires and humans have always been bitter enemies…

A little fanart from The Western Passage by @whispermethis . I wasn’t sure of the designs so I went more for personal interpretation ;A; so sorry I really recommend this fanfic <3

Also excuse me for the lines ;_;


gravity falls + star wars = alderaan falls??? a summer with great aunt leia in her ramshackle museum?? a whispering forest, a mysterious journal, hijinks ensue? little finn in goofy sweaters???

i know, i know, han seems like the obvious choice for gunkle stan - but they’re already basically the same person, and where’s the fun in that? grumbly grauntie leia is much better. i’m thinking the handprint on the journal, instead of being six-fingered, could be luke’s robot hand? ewoks instead of gnomes? and maz kanata runs the diner? lando elected mayor? so many possibilities…

p.s. kylo ren as gideon is nearly canon all good, but we also need to appreciate how young robbie looks exactly like kylo ren


Adult Pine twins, still right in the center of the chaos of Gravity Falls.

anonymous asked:

Daddy idk what im doing pls save me T.T (part 1) - The door busted open and zombies scrambled inside, invading the room. Otabek did not spare a single second to dislocate their bloody heads from their body. One after another, he took them down too easily, that was, until the last zombie made an appearance.

Pt 2) This zombie was… Beautiful. Otabek hesitated. Its shoulder length Blonde hair pointed inwards, directing the attention to its beautiful, petite face features. Dried lips yet so kissable, emotionless eyes yet so mesmerizing, and, cold…

(Pt 3) cold and pale blue skin yet so touchable. Dried blood stained on its forehead as if stating its past human encounter had tried to kill it but failed. Otabek wouldn’t be surprised if that person had let this zombie go because it was just so… Damn it.. A man eating corpse can’t be this stunning! It’s not fair.

(Pt 4) Otabek, far too lost in the moment, almost got attacked by the zombie. It pounced forward and tried to bite his arm, lacking grace despite looking like the definition of grace. Otabek just can’t bring himself to harm this walking corpse, and he hated himself for this.

(Pt 5) The zombie groaned, as if frustrated at how this man was able to dodge its attempts in feeding. “Easy there” Otabek breathed out, then feeling like a complete idiot. Did he just talk to a zombie? Man this zombie was doing things to his brain.

(Pt 6) It groaned again, and Otabek’s face heated. It sounded much like a bed noise, and Otabek wanted to die because oh god, this zombie was also doing things to his dick. Every since the apocalypse happened, Otabek wasn’t able to jerk off as often as he used to. His body wanted revenge. (THIS IS TOO SINFFUL TO CONTINUE DAMMIT T.T anyWay the blonde zombie is yurio ofc XD)

otabek: i’m going to fuck the zombie

99% of us: otabek please don’t fuck the zombie

I just wanna take a pretty girl out somewhere you can see the stars and make out in the back of a pick up truck surrounded by like a million blankets and pillows and finally be at peace w/ myself

  • Dipper, S2 Ep1: There's something HUGE going on right under our noses. And it's time we stop goofing around and get to the bottom of it.
  • Me: Yeah okay whatever. *munches popcorn*
  • Dipper & Wendy: *fight off nightmare-inducing shapeshifter*
  • Dipper: *gets possessed*
  • Dipper: *destroys underground society*
  • McGucket: *learns he erased memories after committing unbearable acts*
  • Dipper & Mabel: *learn Soos has a deadbeat father who left him at age 4*
  • Northwest Mansion: *bleeding chanting taxidermy animal heads*
  • Stan: *almost ends the world*
  • Me: ...
  • Me: ...jfc.