My friend got caught in the crossfire of my Bobby love, and now she is almost One of Us™. She hasn’t watched anything yet, but we have viewings planned. For now she just looks at pics and gifsets. Her response to this gif?
“HOW DOES HE HAVE SEXY EYELIDS??? EYELIDS ARE NOT SEXY but HIS ARE. HOWWWWWW????”
inktobers 7 (28 days later), 8 (ravenous) and 9 (scream) !!
btw i’ll probably just be posting these over on twitter unless i do somethin real amazing bc i dont wanna clog up things over here and i’m tryin to be better at usin twitter too hah (so follow me over there!!!!!!)
Rating: Mature / PG-13 through NC-17 TImeline: Season 7 Summary: Fresh off a particularly brutal case, Mulder tries to finally make good on his promise to take Scully on a nice trip to the forest, only to stumble onto evidence that there may be more to a local urban legend than just rumor and superstition.
A/N: Special thank yous to @kateyes224 for being the best friend and beta extraordinaire for this beast, @2momsmakearight for the non-stop brainstorming, and @gilliansboobs for the unwavering support through my late night meltdowns while writing this and the amazing gif and banner. I couldn’t have done this without you guys xo
Her shoulder muscles screamed at the tension that had twisted into them, the hours of hunching over the paperwork of the case and his profile notes etched out sloppily across lined sheets. The rolling of her neck did little to pacify the muscles, instead they coiled tighter and burned like fire up to base of her skull.
The keypad above the doorknob beeped twice and flashed a green light as Mulder swiped the card and unlocked the door to their motel room, then stepped aside, allowing her to cross the threshold first.
“I’m exhausted,” she said as she dropped her coat onto the chair. Neither of them made a move towards the lamp, content in the quiet that the darkness offered. Instead, he pressed his chest to her back, his arms wrapping around her waist, and a deep sigh reverberated through her signaling to him that her eyes had drifted closed and she was finally allowing herself to relax. The past few days had gotten to her just as much as him, though she’d never admit that to him. Always the strong one. Always ‘fine.’
“I’m sorry you got as wrapped up in this case as you did,” he whispered in her ear, his arms tightened around her. “As much as I appreciate that you were there, I hate that you had to see me that way.”
She turned in his arms, running her hands up the length of them to the back of his neck, pulling his face close enough so that she could press a kiss to the tip of his nose.
Ives. You know, not that long ago I couldn’t do that. Could barely take a breath without coughing up a pint of blood. Tuberculosis. That along with fierce headaches… depression… suicidal ambition. I was in pretty horrible shape. In fact I was on my way to a sanatorium to convalesce most likely to die, when an Indian scout told me a curious story. A man eats the flesh of another, he steals his strength, he absorbs the other man’s spirit…Well, I just had to try. Consequently I ate the scout first and you know he was absolutely right. I grew…stronger. Later through circumstances my wagon trail grew lost through rock-
Boyd. I’ve heard this story before.
Ives. I ate five men in three months….Tuberculosis? Vanished. As did the the black thoughts. I reached Denver that spring feeling happy. And healthy. And virile…