I fucking hate Pink... She's getting all in that Blue booty and not me...
Yeah, well she annoys the shit outta me... If she shows me ONE MORE screaming human and shrieks from it's "cuteness" I'm gonna cut a bitch...
Yellow and White:
Wanna shatter her?
I was JUST gonna say that!!
Should we tell Blue?
Okay well, I'M not gonna do it.
Not me either. That'll look HORRIBLE for our image, and Blue might try to shatter the both of us.
True... Hey, remember that 'lil shit Rose Quartz that keeps writing- "Fuck Da Diamonds" on our walls?
What if we trick Pink's crew to leave the Palanquin to stay on Homeworld or something, and as soon as Pink's alone and unarmed looking at birds and shit, Rose will for sure step in and STAB that bitch!
Holy fuck-comets, that's GENIUS!!
I KNOW RIGHT? Rose will take the blame, Pink's gone, we'll be in the clear, and you can get finally get up on Blue's booty
But, let's play it like we didn't know~
That smoke filled shot from the promo shoot has given me so many thoughts though...
Just like FP and Alice, Betty and Jughead tried so hard but they couldn’t withstand the pull of the Riverdale split. The turf war got so bad that someone from the Southside couldn’t even step foot over the division line without threat of attack. They tried at first, they tried so hard to fight it, to be together. Jughead crawling into Betty’s room in the middle of the night, Betty sneaking to Jughead’s trailer in the earliest hours of the morning before school. Alice threatened bars on her window. It wasn’t Jughead, she’d said, it was her safety. Visits became phone calls, phone calls became texts. And try as he might to resist it Jughead had finally found a family with the Serpents, people willing to look out for him no matter the cost.
He shouted, she cried. He apologised and she shouted louder. Cursed them both as cowards. Too weak to hold their own, deliver nothing but empty promises into the grooves of each other’s skin. He told her their love wasn’t real, just to get her to go for good.
She moved to Boston for college. Got her journalism degree. Was chosen for an internship at the New Yorker.
He worked in the Whyte Worm, taking classes in community college when he could, rising in the ranks of the Serpents to keep a roof over his head when his father was sentenced. He’d wanted so much more for himself but he’d always known it was a pipe dream. He wrote, until the sun peeked over his windowsill he would work on his novel. A last shred of hope in which the delinquent got the girl and the waters of the river were eternally smooth.
Alice was thrilled when Betty announced her engagement. Ben, or Brad, or Buck, it didn’t matter. The first time she’d been back to Riverdale, a place with so many painful memories, was for the party her mother insisted on throwing. Her chest ached the whole drive back, fingers threatening to curl in a way they hadn’t for years. She straightened her soft pink cardigan, ran her hands over her light blue dress and scowled into her mirror as the reflection of Alice Cooper stared back at her.
Betty told herself it was a craving for Pop’s vanilla malt milkshakes that had drawn her here in the middle of the night, perfect fiancé left sleeping in her lacy pink childhood room. In all actuality she knew the real reason, never was a good liar anyway. It was a long shot and yet…
There he was, in his booth, laptop and half drunken coffee in front of him, like a day had never passed. She can’t breathe, all air snatched from the room as he looks up, blue meeting green for the first time in too long.
He stands up before he can even think. He’s taller, more muscular, she thinks. She’s blonder, curvier in all the right places he can’t help but notice.
Neither of them remember closing the distance but her name is barely off his lips before she envelopes him, flooding his senses with an essence that is purely Betty Cooper and he’s already drunk, already addicted all over again.
Pop’s bathroom isn’t the most idyllic location but it’s the closest. They’re tearing at each other’s clothes, biting at lips and necks and shoulders in a desperate attempt to make up for lost time, apologise and repent and forgive all at once. She hooks her legs round his waist, telling him in a low growl to just rip her underwear as it hinders them, drawing him home between her thighs.
This was it this time, this was always going to be it. Neither side of Riverdale would ever be at peace, this they would have to accept, but it wouldn’t stop them now. Nothing could.
Eventually Jughead and Betty move into a big white house in the suburbs, offering him the dream life he’d always wanted but would never admit to because why would it possibly happen for him? The neighbours stare with open jaws that say ‘goodness is she okay with that dark, scary looking gang member?’ And then there’s a ring at the door and they answer it to find Jughead Jones adorably holding out a plate of cookies, blush on his cheeks as he says “um my wife baked these for you, we’re new round here". His shy smile could get him anything, Betty knew that more than anyone.
He mows the lawn for the old lady at the end of the road and volunteers to man the barbecue during the summer street party.
She goes back home with him, weekly visits to FP and reunions at the Worm. Betty beats almost every Serpent at pool as they just shake their heads, flushing as she kisses their cheeks in placation before she asks if anyone wants to play darts next.
Light and dark - you never could have one without the other.
if you move again, I will stab you with a paint scraper,” Lardo snaps out, not
looking up from her canvas. She scratches her thumbnail over an imperfection in
the white expanse in front of her, flicking off the offending fleck.
sniffs from across the room, muttering to himself.
was that?” Lardo says, looking up at him sharply.
Lards! Nothing at all.” He’s quiet for another few seconds. “My nose itches.”
Lardo drops her head down to her chest and lets out a long-suffering sigh. She
tosses her pencil into the wells at the bottom of her easel and circles her
Move.” She chides him. Carefully, she reaches out and scratches gently along
the bridge of Nursey’s nose.
“Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
Just a little aesthetic of everything that reminds me of you, with a quote from one of our favourite things because you are one of the very brightest stars I know. You never fail to make me smile every time we talk, whether its a brief exchange because we’re both busy or spending two hours chatting and trying to smash our keyboards louder than the other when we type. You are joy and creativity embodied, and I love you for it <3
Dear anon, I’m not sure this qualifies as babysitting together… it just turned out like this. And of course it got long again.
Set in early season six.
Mulder knows Scully is
home because there are noises coming from inside.
He’s knocked twice already
and now he’s waiting, maybe a little bit impatiently; he’s worrying the edges
of the case files he’s holding in his hands. The flimsy excuse for his visit.
About to knock again,
the door opens, and at first Mulder, expecting Scully, doesn’t see the tiny
person basically hanging from the door knob.
“Who are you?” Mulder
lowers his eyes upon hearing the voice and blinks in confusion.
“This is- Dana
Scully’s apartment?” The child stares up at him, imitating his blinking. The
child, he can’t deny, looks eearily like Scully herself; red hair, but unruly,
unbrushed, and big, blue, very curious eyes. His first thought is that he’s entered
an alternate reality where Dana Scully, his partner, is nothing but a child.
“Aunty Dana there is a
strange man here!” The small girl yells without taking her eyes off him. Of
course, Mulder thinks and smiles at the girl who remains skeptical, narrowing
her eyes. A Scully child, but not her; and definitely not hers. He tries to
chase the thought away quickly, but the child… why does this girl look so much
like Scully herself?
“Hannah, I told you
not to- Mulder? What are you doing here?”
“I…uhm, there was
something in this-“ He keeps staring at the child, who wears the same curious
expression as Scully, in just a few sizes smaller.
“Is this the man Uncle
Bill always complains about?” The girl, Hannah, asks, gazing up at Mulder.
“That sounds like me.”
Mulder smiles, but the girl remains wary.
“Mulder, this is my
niece Hannah,” Scully’s voice sounds like an endless sigh, “She is Charlie’s
daughter.” He expects her to give more details, but she doesn’t. Judging by her
look she is waiting for him to say his piece and leave her alone again.
“Hi, Hannah. Uhm, Scully
I was wondering if I could talk to you about this case but… I didn’t know your
brother was here.”
“He’s not,” Hannah
quickly interjects, “he and mommy are on a date. That’s why I get to stay with
aunt Dana. I like her a lot.” Mulder nods, fully understanding the child.
There’s no one else he’d rather spend time with either. That’s the whole reason
he’s here after all.
“What is a case, aunt
Dana? Can Mulder come in and play with us?” He does his best to look harmless
and puts on a pouty smile. Two against one is unfair, he realizes, but he’s
“All right, Mulder can
come in.” Scully, still in sighing mood, opens the door to let Mulder inside.
Apparently this is the sign for Hannah to completely claim him for herself. She
takes his hand and almost forcefully leads him over to the couch. There’s a
huge box of Legos next to Scully’s usually impeccable couch table. Mulder
admires the colorful, child made construct.
“Did you make this?”
Hannah nods proudly and grins, showing him a nice combination of baby teeth and
“It’s a space ship,”
she tells him and Mulder quickly glances at Scully, whose face is unreadable.
“Aunt Dana says aliens are gray. My daddy told me they’re green.”
“Oh, did she?” Mulder
can’t help the grin on his face just like Scully can’t hide the blush that
spreads on hers. “But she’s right, you know.”
“I want to go to space
when I’m big. Do you think I can? Aunt Dana says I can.”
“You know what? You
should always listen to what your aunt Dana tells you. She is really smart and
almost always right. And I’m absolutely certain you can go to space when you’re
big.” Hannah turns to look at Scully, a big fat grin on her face.
“Mulder, you wanted to
talk to me about a case?”
“But Mulder needs to
help me build the space ship!”
“I’m sure Mulder has
other plans, Hannah. Anyway, it’s almost time for bed.” The girl huffs loudly.
He considers telling Scully that he doesn’t have other plans; the case was just
an excuse to come here. What Mulder didn’t consider, though, is that unlike him
she might be busy on a Friday night. The thought of spending a weekend apart
from her seemed unbearable; they spent so many weekends together, not
necessarily by choice, while assigned to the x-files. Now he doesn’t remember
not to be around her all the time. But she didn’t tell him about her brother
visiting, or babysitting her niece. He wouldn’t have just shown up if she had
(or he would have thought of a better reason). So he figures it’s partly her
fault he’s here now.
voice is impatient as she points her finger towards the kitchen. He picks up
his file and follows her. “So what did you want to talk about? Why didn’t you
just call? Why couldn’t it have waited til Monday?”
“Uhm…” Mulder doesn’t
have an answer for any of her questions. Seeing Hannah has thrown him off;
seeing Scully with the girl who looks so much like her has made him forget
everything. Completely out of patience, Scully tears the file out of Mulder’s
“Mulder, you can’t be
serious. This is not an x-file. It’s not even a case!” She closes the file
forcefully and throws it on the table. “So why are you really here?”
“I- it is a case,
Scully. These teenagers-“
“Mulder, no. You could
have called me with this and it would have taken me two minutes to tell you
that this is nothing. Not to mention that we’re off the x-files. Yet you
decided to drive over here on a Friday night. Why?”
“Why didn’t you tell
me about your niece?” Scully’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
“I don’t see how this
is any of your business.“
“You didn’t tell
me your brother was in town.”
“Mulder, what I
do on weekends is my business. This doesn’t concern you and if there’s no
reason for you to be here…” She trails off suddenly, crossing her arms in
front of her and just stares at him.
“But why didn’t
you just tell me your brother was visiting? I wouldn’t have come here.” Of
course it’s a lie. Knowing her brother was here, the one who doesn’t know him
and maybe, just maybe, doesn’t hate him, might not have changed anything. He
still would have missed her. He wants to tell her exactly that – that he misses
her, that a weekend without her is insufferable – but he knows how she’ll react
if he does; she’ll roll her eyes, she’ll say his name in that particular way
and she’ll send him away. So he decides to stall and turn the tables around.
“Like I said,
Mulder, this is not about you. This is my life, my family. It doesn’t concern you.”
Her words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do. Yet, they tear right through him,
gnaw strongly at him. He sighs deeply and watches her like she watches him. At
least she hasn’t thrown him out yet.
voice chimes from the living room. “I need help on my space ship!”
“At least one
Scully woman still likes me.” Mulder’s attempt at humor falls short when
Scully’s face remains stoic.
“She doesn’t know
you very well.” Scully replies and that one really hurts.
“Am I allowed to
help her? Or do you want me to leave?” Her answer is clearly written on
her face; she wants him to leave. Mulder knows they need to talk about this;
whatever this is. Maybe part of him, at least unconsciously, wanted to come
here to clear the air between them. Scully has been edgy for a while now, at
least since their return from Antarctica. Their reassignment and Diana’s
presence, their undisclosed past, haven’t helped matters much. Though Mulder
isn’t sure either of these things is the reason for her distant behavior.
Scully makes a dismissive hand gesture, “You’ve got 20 minutes until bed
time.” There’s a remark on his tongue, but this time he swallows it, nods,
and joins little Hannah in the living room. The girl grins at him. Ten minutes
ago she didn’t even know him and now she’s reaching out her hands, grabbing for
him. If only he had that same effect on her aunt. Mulder sits down on the floor
next to Hannah and carefully touches the still unfinished space ship.
missing.” She tells him, slightly stumbling on her ’s’-sounds. “I
don’t know what.” Mulder pretends to examine the space ship closely,
making the girl giggle. He takes a few of the bricks and puts them in her hand.
Hannah watches him closely as he builds a small attachment on the roof of the rectangular
“What is it?”
Hannah leans over, her long hair falling all around her face. Mulder reaches
out and as the child turns to him, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
entrance,” he explains, “You have to have someone fly the space ship,
right?” Hannah nods happily. “See? That’s how your pilot can get
alien.” Hannah reminds him.
alien.” Mulder agrees with a smile.
Scully’s voice is gentle and as Mulder lifts his head, sees her soft
expression, he can’t help but wonder how long she’s been standing there.
“Come on, you’ve got to get ready for bed.”
“The space ship
will still be there tomorrow.” Hannah hesitates, her small hand still
holding a few bricks.
“And Mulder? Will
Mulder still be here tomorrow?”
now,” Scully urges her on and reaches out her hand. This time Hannah does
as she’s told and follows along the hall, “You can say goodbye once you’re
in your pajamas.”
Mulder gets up from
the floor, his knees protesting quietly, and sits on the couch. They must have
left the bathroom door open because he can hear them in there. Hannah is
telling Scully all about space and the moon, aliens and monsters and Mulder has
Mulder,” the girl says loudly; Mulder doubts that she’s aware he can hear
them out here, “Why doesn’t uncle Bill like him?”
“They didn’t meet
under the best circumstances. You’re not done brushing your teeth yet,
“I’ll tell uncle
Bill how great Mulder is at building space ships. He must like him then! You
like him, right?” Mulder strains his ears; he knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop
and he knows that Scully most likely won’t tell her niece what an asshole he
is. At least he hopes she won’t. There’s plenty of time for that in the future.
Once he’s out of Scully’s life, just a bleak memory, and when Hannah asks about
him as a teenager – if she remembers him at all – she can tell him then. How he
let her down and how he lets everyone down he loves. As long as she doesn’t do
it now when Hannah still likes him, when she thinks he’s good at playing Legos.
“Aunty Dana? You like
him, don’t you?”
“Yes, honey. I do
like Mulder. I like him a lot.” Mulder wonders how much of that is true
when he hears tiny feet running down the hall. Hannah jumps onto the couch and
right into his side.
careful.” He starts tickling her and she screams in delight.
Mulder!” He lets go of her then, but she remains cuddled to his side,
leaning against him.
goodnight, Hannah. He needs to go home, too.” The girl turns to him with
an earnest expression.
“Is it almost
past your bedtime, too?” She asks him and he nods solemnly.
“I hate bed
time.” Hannah lets him know in a loud whisper.
“Me too.” He
admits, quickly glancing up at Scully. “But you should listen to your aunt
Dana. Remember what I told you earlier?”
“Exactly. So you
better do as she says and go to bed.”
eyes fill with tears, “Can Mulder come back tomorrow?”
might have plans tomorrow.” Scully sighs and Mulder turns to look at her.
He went to Antarctica for her; if she thinks he’s backing down when it comes to
babysitting her adorable niece, they really need to have a talk.
“I’m still here
tomorrow,” Hannah tells him excitedly, “Please don’t have plans
what,” Mulder leans closer to the little girl, “I promise I’ll talk
to your aunt Dana about this if you go to bed now.” Hannah thinks it over
for a moment, then nods, and wanders off. Scully stares after her, amazement apparent
on her face. Mulder can’t help his smug grin.
“Well, my work
here is done,” he says, getting up from the couch, “I better leave.
You can tell Hannah whatever you like. Tell her…,” how much I hate this,
he thinks, “tell her I do have plans. I’m sure you’ll come up with
something plausible. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He’s halfway to the
door when Scully stops him. “Mulder, wait.” He stops, but doesn’t
turn around just yet.
“Do you want to
spend the day with us tomorrow? Maybe not the whole day. I mean… however long
you want. If you want.”
you?” He’s facing her now and he wishes he could tell her how much he
wants this. To spend the day with her and her adorable nice. To just be around
her, talk to her, without fighting, without second-guessing each other. They don’t
need the x-files. At least not for this. He wants to be with her any way he is
allowed, any chance he gets.
“What about me?
I’ll be there too.”
“No, I mean… do
you want me to spend the day with you and Hannah?” His eyes plead with
hers to just say yes. This is his olive branch until he figures out to tell her
all the things he wants to say to her; until he figures out how to right
whatever went wrong between them these last couple of months. Scully is taking
her time answering and finally she sighs; a clear sign that she’s come to a
“I’d really like
it if you’d spend the day with us, Mulder. Hannah adores you.”
“And you like
me.” If only he knew how to keep his mouth shut sometimes. He smiles
sheepishly, basically admitting that he’s eavesdropped earlier. Scully’s
earlier discontentment with him seems to have evaporated, though, and he
receives a warm smile.
“And I like you.
How about you come over for breakfast? Then we’ll figure out what to do.”
This ties in a little bit of canon, a little bit of stuff @mccoymostly mentioned in an answer to an Anon ask earlier, and a little bit of what’s bouncing around in Jules’ head right now.
Bones is an impeccable diagnostician. He’s an amazing clinician. He notices things. His observational skills parallel - sometimes even surpass - his technological acumen.
He’s got the newest, state-of-the-art equipment at his fingertips so that when shit hits the fan, he’s ready and able to treat every patient as minimally invasively as possible, and in order to achieve the best possible outcome for them.
He’s also old-fashioned.
Maybe it’s because he trusts his own hands more than the machines, or maybe it’s because he knows a little bit of touch goes a long way in reassuring his patients, but when time is not an issue, I feel like he falls back on a good, old fashioned physical exam. Where Starfleet hasn’t mandated how things must be done or using what instruments or methods, he takes the liberty of using his best judgment to assess and treat his patients. Where an old fashioned method would not extend convalescence any more than a modern method, he would favor that.