My little timelapse doesn’t do it justice, my god. All the sudden it’s dim and cold, like you can feel outer space and how cold it is and all the birds start going nuts and making noise and it’s like woah
who the fuck do you think you are, claiming i’m not a real heathers fan? genuinely and honestly, please get a grip. the movie is better, imo, but even if you just like the musical, you’re a real heathers fan. to be a fan is to like heathers, any version of it.
give props to the original always, because that’s who made sure it existed for you, but you can even hate it if you want! that doesn’t bar you from being a fan of heathers content! get off your high horse and learn to enjoy things, asshole gamer boy mentality!
It made me smile that there is a solar eclipse today, because a solar eclipse somehow reminds me of Khadgar and Peregrïn. She compares him to the sun, and she is of course connected to the night/moon. So it sounds nice, meaningful even~ So I had to mark the occasion with a sketch ! 💜
This is a short post-Chimera thing I came up with while watching the episode. Written quickly, on my phone, but I had to get it out.
Mulder’s phone blinks excitedly as soon as he lands in Washington D.C. There is only person he wants to hear from right now, wants to be with even more urgently; Scully. He grins as he leaves the airport, listening to her voice. If he wants to see her, her message says, he’ll have to come to her apartment. She needs her bed, her bath, her apartment. And, she reminds him, to use his key. Who knows what she’ll do to him if he interrupts her bath, or sleep, after ditching her. Once again.
The apartment is dark and quiet when he steps inside. He takes off his shoes, his jacket, and lets his small bag fall down with a thud next to the couch. His tie comes off on his way to the bedroom, he’ll pick it up some other time, and he opens button after button of his dress shirt. Mulder only stops when he sees Scully sprawled on her bed. She’s closed the blinds, but not completely, and a few rays of light struggle through, bathing the room in a soft orange. Undressing quickly, he leaves on his shirt and boxers, and then joins her in the bed, careful not to wake her. She is breathing deeply, fast sleep. Her face is turned away from him and so he rests there, watching over her. He’s missed her. So much. On his way home, he couldn’t help but think. About her, about their relationship. What are we, Scully? Are you my significant other after all? She must be, he thinks, because she is his everything. As if hearing his inner monologue, she turns around. She smiles before she even opens her eyes.
“Hey. You’re home.” Her voice is raspy, tired. He nods, leans over, and gently kisses her nose. Earlier, he couldn’t wait to tell her all about the case, about Ellen, about what he saw, experienced. Now, all he can think of is how much he missed her smile, her raised eyebrows, her sceptical expression, her brilliant thoughts. All of her. The way she steps into his personal space, and how she never minds when he completely hijacks hers.
“Lost your voice in Vermont?”
“No,” he chuckles, letting his fingers trace her face, her throat as if reacquainting himself with her, “I was just thinking.”
“About what?” She lets her eyes drift close again, sighing happily when his fingers become bolder, keep wandering without ever losing their gentle touch.
“That surburban lifestyle.”
“You hate it.” There is no question in her voice, neither are there expectations or disappointment. Just a statment, readily served to him, to be proven right or wrong.
“I don’t - I didn’t - hate it. It’s not…” he wants to say it’s not him, but that’s only half the truth; it’s not them. Though if Scully wanted to play housewife, raise a dog or two with him, maybe consider adoption once they worked normal hours and jobs, he’d be down for it. Right here, right now. Significant other or not, he’s hers for life, and he’ll follow her. Even to the dullest suburb.
“Mulder, I hope you don’t expect me to cook for you.”
“Actually I thought I could cook something for you.” He tells her pressing a kiss against her lips. She opens one eye, narrows it, closes it again.
“Hm, first let me sleep another hour or ten. You do owe me after leaving me all alone there.”
“You’re right, Scully,” he kisses her again, lazily, as part of his penance, “You’ll see. I can cook, you know.” She already picks up after him. It’s about time he does something for her. She doesn’t reply and it’s only then that he realizes she’s asleep again. He kisses her cheek, softly, before he cuddles close to her, giving in to his own exhaustion.
One of the things in Warframe that boggles my mind the most are Grineer Commanders.
Like, how the hell can it Switch Teleport? How the hell can you explain how a race of crusty faced, racist, facist, inbred cyborgs whose idea of advanced technology is to literally fucking cannonball themselves into the hull of enemy ships in order to board them somehow learned how to use an ability used by telepathically controlled combat drones? Did it just wake up one day and say “Grineer wanna learn how to switch teleport like Tenno Skoom” and somehow learn how to use it? What’s stopping the Grineer from somehow utilizing other Warframe abilities then?