~my constant my touchstone~

2

— Scully, I was like you once. I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.
— And you are mine.

my-constant-and-my-touchstone  asked:

Hi Steph. Thank you so much for running this blog and your fic recs lists save me from boredom so many times when I really want to have something good to read on the train or bus. I am wondering if you know any good fics which John finally realised what Sherlock has meant to him and what Sherlock had done for him and Mary after he is married to Mary and finally decided to make everything right? Load of angst is fine but with a happy endibg please? Thank you very much! ❤

Hi Lovely!

OH SHIT this is so far backlogged in my asks, I am SO sorry I missed it. I actually can’t think of anything SPECIFIC to this off the top of my head, but these are SORT of similar:

The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w. | Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV) – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just…he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows. It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.

Vena Cava by SilentAuror (E, 27,452 w. || HLV Fix-It, Romance, H/C, Angst, Infidelity) – Sherlock has been shot in the chest; John has been shot in the heart. Though everything is broken, they do their best to heal the wounds that Mary left on them both.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w. || Fluff, Bed Sharing, Angst, Drinking, Grief, Infidelity, Drug Use, POV John, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other’s arms, but as ever with these two, it’s not your typical relationship. It’s fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

To be Loved by You by TwisterMelody (M, 28,775 w. || Angst, H/C, Friends to Lovers, Post-HLV, Infidelity, Character Death) – Too many times they had confessed themselves in the darkness, leaving it there, never to speak of it again.  But this is different.  This love deserves the light of day.

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 32,672 w. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock’s plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he’s being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,690 w. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror (E, 42,031 w. ||  H/C, Injury, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Mary is Not Nice) – When John’s left arm becomes paralysed after a car accident, Mary asks Sherlock to take him back to Baker Street to recuperate, as she’s about to give birth. Despite the fact that the search for Moriarty is ongoing, Sherlock takes John in and takes responsibility for overseeing his rehabilitation as he adjusts to the loss of his arm.

The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w || Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.


I’m sure I have others, but these are what I have sorted so far. I have too many fics. I hope these appeal to you, and as always, followers, please add your recs! <3

Fanart of the day

(Sorry, first post seemed to not be working for everyone so here it is again)

So today, not one, but two fanart pieces are up for sale!

I was in a sentimental mood I guess, so I used two of the most beautiful romantic MSR catch phrases there are 😍

They can be sold together or apart, your wish. As usual, the first person interested to DM me gets it!

My constant, my touchstone (from another room)
Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny ft. Chris Carter
My constant, my touchstone (from another room)

Your apartment neighbors are being mushy in the hallway again. You’re basically used to it by this point, but it’s still sweet to hear as you take a break from your crossword…

2

countdown to valentine’s day - seven otp aesthetics:

[6/7] - msr (fox mulder/dana scully) - the x-files

“I was like you once. I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.“

Breathless 1/1

Missing scene drabble - ‘Requiem’


The first time I was really conscious of her breathing, the first time I was terrified that she would suddenly cease is as sharp in my memory as if it happened only yesterday. 

So many years ago as I sat beside her as she lay pale and unmoving atop that hospital bed; a bed that no one, not even I, had expected her ever to leave. Because while her body had been returned to us more or less unscathed, her spirit had not and as each frightening day passed she had retreated further and further away from us and, in the absence of anything solid to put my back up against I think maybe I had retreated right along with her. Unable to reach out in any substantive way I had simply concentrated my attention on bringing to justice the faceless men who had put her there; so that when she died, when she left me, I could tell myself that I had done everything I could possibly have done; that I hadn’t failed her.

Of course I came to realise that in fact, I was failing her more than I ever have done before or since because whilst I have no real religious convictions, my faith even back then was in Scully; in her quiet strength in a belief that somehow, as long as we searched for it together, that the truth I so desperately sought was attainable somehow. And all through that long night as I covered her pale hand with my own, I whispered that same confirmation over and over. To keep her with me; to bring her back; to keep fighting in a way I think she had always fought.

And I didn’t take my eyes off her – afraid to miss even a single gentle rise and fall of her chest as though by sheer will alone I could keep her breathing – until the morning came and I was banished from the room to allow the nurses to attend to her. Just for an hour or two they said; enough time for me to go home and grab a shower, a change of clothes, something to eat maybe. Of course I did none of those things because I already knew what was waiting for me when I got home. Because I had made my choice and my choice had been to be with Scully.

I had cried that day as I sank to my knees on the threshold of my ruined apartment; hot scalding shameful tears that caught in my throat and demanded a final release. Tears I had kept locked inside me for months, maybe even years as I cried for everything that had been taken from me, even then still unable to bring myself to exclude Scully from the grim mental tally that reverberated again and again as my subconscious finally came to the fore after being suppressed for so long. Because deep down, I hadn’t believed she would live; that anything I could ever do would bring her back to me.

It was just one of many times she has surprised me. Because as petite as she is, as seemingly fragile as she may first appear, I have learned through bitter experience that Scully burns with a fire that is blinding in its intensity and which, despite all the odds, has never been fully extinguished. It’s one of the reasons I stopped noticing her height – or lack thereof – years ago; because if a person’s stature can be measured, not in inches but in a sheer single minded determination to prevail, then Dana Scully would surely walk amongst giants.

In the past six years I have crossed continents to find her, have held her in my arms when she was barely alive; I have wept at her bedside in the dead of night when all has seemed hopeless; I have felt her blood on my hands and her fear on my soul; I have allowed her desperate tears mingle with mine before I have somehow managed to kiss them away, drawing strength from her even when my body was tired and my mind was weak. I have watched her laugh for no other reason than a sudden childlike joy that we are both still alive and more recently I have felt her body sing alongside my own as we lay entwined in a lovers embrace; her pale skin glowing in the muted tones of evening light as she gently and thoroughly shrouds me in a sureness that despite everything, I am still worthy enough for someone to love me.

And through all those years I have watched her breathe.

But now, as she stands before me, her eyes luminous with unshed tears that threaten at any moment to fall, I watch her chest hitching as she fights to hold on to her composure.

Because I am leaving her behind; because despite her protestation and spoken entreaties that she is fine I finally realised a truth that I have been denying for so long – that the cost to her is just too great and the time has come for her to stop and whether she will admit it to herself or not I think deep down she knows it too.

We spent last night holding on to each other; barely speaking as we lay awake in the darkness, entrusting in our bodies to communicate when the words just wouldn’t come and afterwards as the dawn began to break and I felt her begin to tremble in my arms, knowing that our time together was short, I told her for the first time that I loved her. It felt ominously as though I were saying goodbye.

We agreed that she wouldn’t drive me to the airport and I am expecting Skinner to arrive any minute; a part of me wishing he never would – that I am able to take her with me instead just as she has been at my side for so many years. She has grounded me, saved me, given me the strength to carry on when everything around us has gone to hell; she is my touchstone, my constant and my perfect other and on every level possible I am thankful that she was sent to me when she was. And leaving her right now is tearing me apart piece by painful piece because what I really want to do is to gather her against me, wrap my arms around her and never let her go.

But instead I pick up the overnight bag I had packed last night and with my free hand I gently lay my palm against her face, feeling the tension in her jaw ease slightly as I caress the soft velvet of her cheek with my thumb, rubbing small circles to comfort her just as I have done a thousand times before and just briefly, without lifting her eyes, she rests her own hand against mine; capturing my fingers for a moment before turning away from me as she gives me unspoken permission to leave before she changes her mind or perhaps before I can change mine.

I allow myself one last lingering look at her, willing her to turn around even as I pray she doesn’t; because I have never felt as empty as I do now and I am just looking for a reason to stay; to let Skinner travel to Oregon to uncover a truth I no longer really care about. But she doesn’t turn around; her body is still, arms crossed over her chest in a protective posture as she holds herself together. And so I leave. Without looking back I exit the apartment, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other; to keep walking; to keep breathing.

Until

“Mulder wait.”

And suddenly she is right there, pulling at my arm and turning me to face her as I automatically drop my bag, crushing her against my chest as she begins to cry silently against me. I don’t know how long we stand there; conscious only of her, of her body against mine as I feel her chest hitching with the intensity of her distress, knowing that she needs this release; a painful release that will ultimately lend her the strength she thinks she has lost somehow, rewarded when finally she pushes herself away from me and locks those incredible eyes with mine before placing one small hand at the nape of my neck, drawing me forwards and down so that, by standing on her tiptoes she is able to rest her forehead against mine.

“It’s okay” I murmur although I don’t really believe it.

Stepping back as I cup her face fully in my palms studying her, needing to look at her, to submerge myself in the essence of her; to feel her protection as she has protected me so often in the past.

She smiles then, not a full on Scully smile, but a barely-there upturn of the corners of her mouth so full of love and of respect and of her unshakable belief in me that I want to break down right there and then. Instead I slowly lower my mouth to hers, our eyes never breaking contact even for a second and I think it’s one of the most powerful, life affirming moments I have ever experienced but then right at the second our lips are about to touch, Scully gently lays a hand on my chest and steps back.

For a second I am confused; hurt even.

Until I notice that she is smiling sadly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as she once again covers my hands with her own.

“No Mulder” she whispers “No goodbyes remember? Just promise me…..promise me you will come back to me safe.”

And I pull her against me again, just holding her as I feel her breathe.

“I promise”.

End

3

“Scully, I was like you once. I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.” “And you are mine.”

FanWorks Wednesdays - foxmulders

by Keva Andersen

This week’s author may have gotten her writing start from a place “where everybody knows your name” but if you don’t know her name, you should. Meet @foxmulders! Also known as inspl0tches on A03, foxmulders has a variety of work that can take you on a great ride and in some cases knock the wind out of you as you read.

One of my personal favorites is “solitary fields in spring.”  Tagged “mother’s day hell fic from hell,” it looks at 5 Mother’s Days that could have been *cough should have been cough* for Scully. It’s sweet and sad and hits all the right notes.

With all the hurricanes lately you may have heard people use the phrase “the waffle house index” lately. This story with the same name has more to do with the hurricane of emotions that follows Season 6′s “One Son” than the weather and it’s a great read. I love the way it explores how Mulder and Scully say the things they don’t really say.

There’s so much I love about “string theory,” I’ll just stop talking now and tell you to go read it.

We talked with foxmulders about writing, inspiration, and of course, The X-Files.

How long have you been a Phile?

The X-Files was my summer after sophomore year show. I’m about to go into my second year of college, so I’ve been into it for almost four years now. My parents are super over my not being over it, btw. Just in case anyone was wondering.

What was your first episode?

The Pilot! I’d seen a lot about the show on Tumblr before I started it, and I remember the first time the camera panned to Mulder’s poster I was like, “That’s where that’s from!” So the show immediately felt familiar, which I think is part of what got me.

How long have you been writing fic?

Unfortunately, since I was like 12. I wrote some stuff for Star Wars, and Parks and Rec and even Cheers. Yes, Cheers. It was very bad and very inconsistent, and I certainly never printed out a fic I was working on in order to edit it with a red pen like a Real Writer and then left it out for my mom to find. Nope.

Keep reading

@campaignofmisinformation dared me to find a quote fitting all of those bitches, so here’s what I came up with: 

“sure, fine, whatever” @brenna

“especially one of you” @becksndot5

“never give up on a miracle” @sunshinetoday

“feels good, feels organic” @feministbynature

“you were my constant, my touchstone” @campaignofmisinformation

“lick my clit” @smb2312

“We see each other on rare and pleasant occasions and it’s nice. It’s a great relationship and I’m very fond of it and her.” @sembell

also, @xloser-by-choicex is missing but here’s your quote anyway: “There’s an attraction. Maybe more than an attraction, but it’s not going to happen.” (HAHAHAH)

LOVE ALL OF YOU BITCHES!

The Reylo Files

I was like you once. I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.

When Rey was assigned to FBI special agent Kylo Ren, she was told that he was a talented profiler and a strong believer in the supernatural. At every turn, she dismisses his unconventional work methods and his wild theories about the existence of extraterrestrial life, reminding herself that she was sent to keep him in check. She is the skepticism to his unwavering belief, but she doesn’t expect him to be so…persuasive. The files contain the strange, the mysterious, and the impossible. 

And then there’s Kylo Ren’s personal file…the story of a traumatized twelve-year-old boy who was kidnapped and then inexplicably returned to his terrified parents years later. She refuses to call it an abduction, but every case they take together stretches her mind and tests the limits of what she is willing to attribute to coincidence.

She starts to believe. The truth is out there.

Time to sleep
  • Brain: You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.
  • Brain: Trust no one.
  • Brain: Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted.
  • Brain: You're my one in five billion.
  • Brain: Sure, fine, whatever.
  • Brain: What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong? And there were signs along the way to pay attention to.
  • Brain: The truth it out there, Mulder. But so are lies.
  • Brain: MUUUUUUULDER!
  • Brain: I want to believe.
  • Brain: Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?
  • Brain: SCULLLLLLAY!!!
  • Brain: I saw Elvis in a potato chip once.
  • Brain: Hips before hands.
  • Brain: This is a classic case of demon fetal harvest.
  • Brain: You kept me honest, you made me a whole person.
  • Brain: DENY EVERYTHING.
4

-Scully, I was like you once. I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant. My touchstone.

-And you are mine.