sparkle sandals

5

I temporarily strayed away from my usual bright mori and tried to make outfits exclusively out of the new things I found last weekend! This one is a bit weird but I really like all the colors together, for some reason I really feel like a cartoon character lol, I think it’s the hair and beret and bowtie making it seem like some poppy character design hahaha~ At least I got to use my favorite combo of toe-socks + sandals !!  (shoes are from ebay, everything else is thrifted) 

My entry for my ol Illustration major friends’ zine, Homunculus! The last issue’s theme (which I missed) was “Misunderstood Monsters” and this issue’s “Fairytales and Nursery Rhymes”. I chose Rhodopis, an ancient Greek variant of Cinderella set in ancient Egypt, because I am the most predictable person ever.

Experimenting with some of the brushes in my photoshop to get a more raggedy edge, here’s hoping it prints well! The sparkles around the golden sandals are based off of ancient Egyptian depictions of stars and the shoes themselves are based off of golden funerary sandals (which weren’t meant to be worn, but hey this little story has been exaggerated worse in its time haha).

Don’t make me say it twice, Mulder: Final

This is the last story in what wasn’t actually supposed to be a series, but I’ve had so much fun with these ficlets. 
Thanks once again to @leiascully and the XFWritingChallenge prompt Stars for giving me the inspiration for the first story, and to all the readers, including @kateyes224 and @jennfairkiss who asked for a sequel to the sequel and for all those of you who’ve provided feedback and likes. Enjoy!


There was something about Mulder that wasn’t right. Not just in the I’m-going-to-taste-the-evidence way, or in the I’m-going-to-jump-on-a-plane-to-Russia way. It was more in the if-we’re-getting-married-we-should-do-it-traditionally way. And that wasn’t right.

           “Mulder, since when have we been traditional?” Scully said, pacing the floor of her/their apartment wearing his ‘Hank Moody for President’ tee-shirt and picking up the clutter he’d distributed around the living room. “I mean, we spend our work time in a basement, surrounded by paperwork detailing unexplained phenomenon, we don’t have any free time in which to develop any sense of the normal, we’ve spent our lives keeping our feelings to ourselves despite the fact that both of us knew exactly how we felt from pretty early on, and we have no friends or family to celebrate with. Why start being traditional now?”

           He lifted his head from his copy of ‘New Moon’. “I can see why you like this stuff, Scully.”

           She huffed out a sigh, picked up the jar of peanut butter and took a large mouthful. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

           “If I say yes, you’ll drill me on every point you’ve made, if I say no, you’ll drill  me to the wall.” He put the book down, raised his hands in surrender and grinned.

           “Even your cutest smile won’t get you out of this one, Mulder. If we’re getting married, we do it my way.”

           He sucked on his bottom lip, in that maddeningly sexy way, and said, “that’s hardly the most auspicious start to a marriage, Scully.”

           “So, what are you proposing? A Vegas wedding with Elvis as celebrant?”

           He tipped his head on a half-angle and went to open his mouth.

           “Or a Star Wars theme where you dress up as C3PO and you ask me to wear that skimpy gold costume that Princess Leia wore in the third story, and we walk down the aisle to the Imperial March.”

           He raised his eyebrows and sucked in a breath.

           “Or we drive for miles to the middle of nowhere and get married by some batcrap crazy farmer who claims his crop circles are the work of a blood-sucking goat returned from the dead.”

           He chuckled. “Now that’s just silly, Scully. But I quite like the sound of your second scenario.”

           She let out a strangled scream and flopped down on the seat next to him. “Can we be serious, for a moment, Mulder?”

           Turning to face her, he took her hands, his voice solemn. “Scully, I want you to be happy. I want you to have the wedding you most desire. It will be your day. It’s enough for me that you said yes.”

           “Thank you. That means a lot. And I don’t mean to sound brusque or facetious. It’s important to get it right.” She bent her head down so that it rested on his shoulder. He wriggled to get the angle just perfect, opened his book and began to read again.

           “Oh, and the third Star Wars story is Revenge of the Sith. The gold outfit that Leia wore was in The Return of the Jedi, which is the sixth story, but the third movie.” He pecked her cheek. “just in the interests of getting it right.”

She’d been attacked by all manner of mutants, zombies, monsters, aliens and humans. She’d given evidence to courts and senate inquiries. She’d faced her own death, buried her partner and given away her child. Yet, as they set off on the drive to the small coastal town she’d picked for the service, she was as scared as she’d ever been.

Her exhaustive to-do lists had been more than exhausted, her triple checking on bookings had done nothing but irritate the suppliers, her conversations with Mulder bordered on maniacal nagging. And he’d let her do it, let her have a tantrum or three, massaged her feet when she hadn’t even asked and had even let her pick out his suit for him – dark charcoal with a pale blue shirt underneath. He was packing it into a suit carrier when she was putting her make-up bag into their suitcase.

“What’s this, Mulder?” she asked, picking out a hardback book. “Do you honestly think you’ll have time to read?”

He quirked his eyebrows and chuckled. “Not if you’re offering something more physical. But that ones by that guy who plays Hank Moody. He’s a writer now, who knew?”

She held up the book. “Bucking F*king Dent. Never heard of him.”

 

Today was the big day. Or small day. Their day. Their wedding day. It was almost a relief that it had arrived. She was pretty sure that Mulder would agree.

           A soft knock on the door told her he was ready. “Can I come in, or is that banned too?”

           “Mulder,” she sighed. “You only have to hold out for a few more hours.”

           He pushed open the door and stood at the end of their bed. “But you told me you didn’t want a traditional wedding, Scully. I’m sorry to have to inform you that you can’t regain your virginity simply by refraining from intercourse for a few days.”

           She grinned and batted him on the midriff with her curling iron. “You’re lucky this isn’t on yet, or I’d brand you.”

           “Ooh, then we’d have matching tattoos.” He moved behind her and rubbed her lower back. “I’m looking forward to saying hello to your snake again tonight, Scully.” He kissed the spot where her neck joined her shoulders and she sighed into him.

           “I’m looking forward to saying hello to yours too, now scoot. I’ve got to get dressed. The car will be here soon.”

           He dipped down again, brushing his lips around the back of her neck and planting soft kisses down her vertebrae. “My snake has missed you.”

           “Mulder.”

           “I’m scooting,” he said. “I’m scooting.”

When she walked down the stairs from their room to the lobby of the hotel, she could see him tapping the bar with his fingers. She smiled to herself. Fox Mulder, who would readily jump in blindly to pursue the truth, who threw himself on top of trains and down holes, who rescued her from the ends of the earth with a second thought and who would rather have faced the death penalty than compromise his scruples, was as nervous as she was.

           He turned then, his face opening up to her, his eyes wide, his mouth opening slightly before breaking into a wide smile. He held out his hand to her. “You look…I have no words…you are so, so beautiful, Scully.”

           She blushed and cast her own eyes down her midnight blue gown, that fell to the floor in a narrow column. It shimmered in the light that cut through the bar from the ornate windows. Her silver sandals sparkled too, and she clutched his hand to her mouth to press a loving kiss there. “You look more handsome now than you have ever done, Mulder. Shall we go married?”

Skinner had agreed to be witness and looked dapper in his navy suit.

           “I can’t believe the two of you took so darn long to do this,” he said, as he kissed her cheek. He clapped a hand across Mulder’s back. “Actually, scrap that. Of course I can. You two are the most unconventional, frustrating and impossible pair of agents I’ve ever known. And you never could do anything the easy way. Congratulations.”

They were facing each other, holding hands. Scully raised her eyes to Mulder’s. “I do.”

The celebrant had a velvet voice and a warm, confident smile as she took them through Mulder’s turn. He opened his mouth to speak, but he choked and tears tracked down his cheeks instead. Skinner brushed the end of his nose and inspected his feet. Scully squeezed his hands gently, trying desperately not cry herself.

“Mr Mulder?” the celebrant prompted.

Mulder shook his head and whispered. “I do. I do.”

The evening sun cast a deep amber glow into their room. The curtains billowed on the light breeze and Mulder popped the champagne cork from the balcony, quickly filling the two flutes that stood on a silver tray on the small table. She stepped over the threshold and breathed in the salty tang of the air.

           “Today was perfect, Mulder.” She sipped her drink and bubbles made her nose wrinkle.

           “You are perfect, Scully.” He chinked his glass against hers and sat down on one of the chairs, regarding her with the deep gaze he’d developed over the years, the one she could never run from. “And I concede that your dress is even more amazing than Princess Leia’s gold number.”

           She snorted out a laugh. “Thank you. And thank you for letting me be such a control freak for the past few weeks. I know I’ve driven you crazy with my pedantry.”

           “There’s a small part of me that likes to be controlled, Scully. Did you know that?” He waggled his eyebrows.

           “Is this true confession time?” She slipped off her sandal and rubbed her toes along his shin. “Because if it is, there’s something I’d like to get off my chest.”

           He leant forward, placing the glass back on the tray. “I’m all ears.”

           “I have a wild and rebellious side,” she said, her voice deepening with lust. “It’s a Catholic upbringing thing, I think.” She licked her lips. “And I’m finding it really hard to control at the moment. It might be the alcohol…”

           He grabbed her wrist and nipped the skin up to her elbow. She shifted forward and pulled his head to her breast. “How are we going to work this out, this paradox in our relationship, Mulder? You needing control, me letting go.”

           He lifted his head and kissed the side of her mouth, “What would you prescribe, Doctor?”

           “Therapy,” she said, her voice sliding out like silk.

           “What sort of therapy?” He stood up, picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

           “Skin to skin, tongue to tongue, breast to breast…”

           “I’m not familiar with these techniques. Care to show me?”

She nipped, kissed, suckled, stroked, rubbed and caressed every inch of him, leaving him flushed and breathless. He shuddered under her touch and smiled as they rolled over together, so that he lay nestled between her legs. She lay her head down on the pillow so that her hair fanned out and she glanced to the mirror standing to the left of the bed, wondering languidly about how they looked together.

“Mulder,” she said, sitting half up.

“Did you see my wedding present?” he asked, eyes turned towards the mirror.
           “Your wedding present?”

He lifted himself off her and turned his back to the mirror so that she could see the tattoo that sat just above his buttocks. “It was meant to be a surprise.”

“It is. Turn over.” He did and she sat across his legs, inspecting it. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s Perseus and Andromeda, stars destined to remain together forever.”

She kissed each star. “I love you, Mulder.”

“What was that?” She kissed up his spine and around his neck, until he turned back over and she was astride him. “I didn’t quite hear you, Scully.”

She giggled into his skin on his chest, breathing in the smell of him. “I love you, Mulder.”

He pouted.

“What?”

“You said it twice.”

She chuffed out a laugh. “Is there anything you wouldn’t want me to say twice, Mulder?

“No, I like doubles,” he said, rubbing her nipples.

She lay listening to his heart in her ears. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and she wriggled her nose to try to quell the emotion. He shifted.

           “What’s the matter, Scully?” It was the soft voice he used when he read her thoughts.

           “I was thinking about all the people we’ve said a final goodbye to over the years.”

           “Too many,” he said, pulling her in tighter.

           “Including you,” she said, pulling his chin towards her and covering his mouth with hers. “Don’t make me say it twice, Mulder.”