jamofappreciation

[jamofappreciation]

All I can say is, there was not enough time to address these images G’s social girl had asked on our behalf…

[jamofappreciation]

finally done with this study. don't try this (painting with tempera on pastel paper) at home, kids

[jamofappreciation]

David : I think the one picture I have of us up on the wall is the one where I had the dress on. Gillian: I love that picture. David: Yeah. Gillian: And I'm holding you up. David: Exactly. Gillian: Yeah. I love that picture. (Fail Better podcast, 11/12/2024)

📸 David Duchovny & Gillian Anderson photographed by Mark Seliger, 1997

[jamofappreciation]

[jamofappreciation]

[jamofappreciation]

Anyone else listening to David’s podcast and hoping for the slightest hint of x-files/Gillian? We won’t get it, of course. He’ll quit before he gives us that. What is wrong with this man.

So... I will have to listen to this. But the excerpts in the People article sound repetitive and boring. I hold out hope that they really GET INTO IT.

[jamofappreciation]

We're getting the podcast tomorrow.

AND A NEW PIC 😭❤️✌️

[jamofappreciation]

[jamofappreciation]

fox mulder and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

[jamofappreciation]

xxxv. public/semi public sex

"Mulder—wait—"

"Mm, what?" to his credit, he stops fiddling with the button of her form-fitting jeans, but his mouth is still nibbling on her earlobe as he presses her against the kitchen wall. Her eyelids flutter for a moment as the heat of his breath trickles down her neck and between her legs.

It's been 36 hours. 36 hours since he's kissed her, stroked her skin, made her come. 36 hours since she felt the mouthwatering salt of him on her tongue, heard his voice moaning how warm and good she feels.

"What, what?" she chuckles, almost amazed at his bold lack of propriety (or his bold abundance of a wish for death) in her eldest brother's home, "This is not the time or the place."

"I miss you," he husks, his finger tracing the hem of her waistline and tickling her hip. She shivers as goosebumps rise all over her body and she feels warmth pooling in her belly. God, how is she this aroused already? She's never had a relationship before where the sex has fed on fulfillment.

"I've been with you all week," she needlessly reminds him, "I shouldn't—my brother is here. Half of the neighborhood is here."

"Mm, I know," he almost moans it, smoothly pulling her zipper down and sliding a flat hand into her panties. She'd scold him if his touch didn't immediately make her melt, make her eyes roll into the back of her head. Tara laughs in the living room next door and she feels his course, gentle fingertips slide in between her lips.

If anyone were to walk in right now, Mulder would have scant moments to pull his hand away. It would be obvious what he's doing to her, even with the bulk of him blocking almost all of her from the view of the partially closed kitchen door. The thought immediately brings a rush of fluid between her legs. Before she has a chance to be horrified by her physical response, he's slid her wetness up to the bead of her clit and softly rubs. She gnaws on her lip, hard, to keep from gasping, her posture stiffening in pleasure.

"Oh, Scully," he pulls back just enough so she can see his mischievous grin. Damn him, "You bad, bad girl."

[jamofappreciation]

GILLIAN ANDERSON

76th PRIMETIME EMMY AWARDS

[jamofappreciation]

[jamofappreciation]

#1 ☺️

'Send me a number and I'll attempt to write an early mulder/scully drabble in less than 1,000 words <333' (prompt list / og post here!)

1. accidental hand touching

set very early season 1 - fluff - no spoilers

"So tell me, Scully," Mulder concluded, gesturing wildly to the street map pinned to the wall before them. "How do we have two witnesses AND legitimate store footage placing Sarah Knight here, but an entire classroom of students placing her here, halfway across the state, at the exact same time?"

Mulder began pacing, absolutely bewildered. Luckily, it was still early enough into the case that the buzz of excitement and anticipation still reigned supreme within him.

Their polar opposite attitudes were pulling recklessly to both ends of the spectrum today, as Scully remained with feet practically glued to the floor beneath her.

Perfect opposites, in so many ways.

Her arms were folded tightly across her chest as she looked up at the paper, pondering, questioning.

"I don't know, Mulder, I'm kind of at a loss here. But with the secret twin theory now disproven, the footage we have still holds greater power over the forty students’ claims."

Mulder walked back to her, his energy seemingly growing impossibly stronger with each stride. “Forty students, Scully. Four, zero. How do you get that many people to lie for one person, what could they have possibly been offered, or bribed with?”

She smiled lightly at his flustered face, momentarily tuning out of his enthusiastic monologue. It wasn’t that she didn’t care to listen, far from it, it was more so that she was suddenly, so utterly enthralled by his pure passion.

She was passionate too, of course, she just found how different that feeling portrayed itself within the pair of them so deeply fascinating.

Perfect opposites.

She only caught the last of what he said when he went to touch her bicep, his fingers landing upon the ones of hers poking out from under her still crossed arms.

“The art of suggestion, Scully, evidence shows that Sarah is capable of putting thoughts into peoples heads and making them believe it truly happened.”

For a moment, Scully didn’t respond, her mind adjusting back into focus.

Mulder was suddenly silent, staring at her as he awaited her response. Their gaze was strong and downright unyielding, pulled together like a magnet, but their hands, his left to her right, connected with such gentle collision that she wasn’t even sure if he was still touching her anymore.

Her eyes confirmed it true when she briefly looked down at where they were in fact still connected, before flicking her eyes back up to meet his again.

His eyes copied her journey, and Mulder sheepishly lifted his hand up a few centimetres upon realisation, splaying his fingers in a wordless apology. He then briefly lowered it back down and awkwardly patted her hand a couple of times with an unreadable expression.

For a second, the pair stood looking back at the sheet in silence before huffing a laugh in unison at their juvenile awkwardness towards the situation.

The silence returned promptly as both seemed to have completely lost their train of thought, not even sure what they were talking about beforehand. Bewildered, as if what they weren't looking directly at the source of their previous conversation.

Suddenly, before Scully could process what was happening, Mulder grabbed her hand with both of his, lifting it close to his face as he ran his thumbs gently over her knuckles, staring with intent. “What moisturizer do you use?”

Scully laughed at that, loud and genuine. Any tension, regardless of how small it was, promptly vanished. His decision to simply address the light awkwardness where she would have let it fester a smart, and appreciated idea.

Perfect opposites.

“Is this what rummaging around in the obfuscous depths of cadavers all day does to the hands?” he chuckled, continuing to elict playful giggles from her too.

“Keeps ‘em young.” Scully responded, placing her other hand over his and giving him a light squeeze.

With a small nod and a stifled smile, she slid her hands away from his, turning to walk back to his desk to pull up a chair, deciding to re-read the case file again.

Continuing to face the wall for a second, Mulder smiled to himself.

Something told him having someone incessantly fighting his every thought and theory wasn’t going to be as painful as he had once thought.

In fact, he thought quite the opposite.

//

Thank you @thatfragilecapricorn30 for the prompt! This was super fun to write 🫶

[jamofappreciation]

My headcanon says that after the Bad Blood case Mulder would wordlessly buy Scully a real cream cheese bagel to also thank her but mostly show her that he’s not taking her and what she’s doing for him for granted.

Written, happily enough, while I was eating an everything bagel with cream cheese. Lol

///

She’s sitting at his desk, clacking away at his noisy keyboard while she mentally bemoans the fact that she once again has allowed herself to become the hapless partner charged with tying up their report.

Granted, even if Mulder did offer to do it, she’d insist that she be the one to submit it; they have to keep their government funding coming through somehow. Despite this caveat, it doesn’t prevent her from having a cathartic mental gripe about it every once in a while.

Neither I nor Agent Mulder displayed any physical indicators of inter-canine contusions, be it from animal or human—

She passes another glimpse at her wrist watch, the corner of her lip pulling into a displeased grimace when she realizes the time. Mulder is never late—she often suspects the man has a hidden rollaway bed for how often he appears chipper and sharp whenever she enters the office in the morning. She can’t imagine what’s keeping him today.

At around the 9:30am mark, just as she’s debating calling his cell phone he appears through the office door, a lopsided smile on his face and coffee shop procurements in his hands. Before she can even open her mouth to rebuke him for his tardiness, he carefully sets down a paper coffee cup along with a crinkly little pastry bag beside the keyboard.

Her curiosity is immediately peaked and—lecture temporarily cast aside—she nudges the tip of her index finger into the opening of the bag to peer suspiciously at the contents.

“Bagel with cream cheese,” he confirms her silent deduction as he hangs up his jacket, “Full fat cream cheese, for the record.”

“I—thank you,” she stammers, caught off guard by his sudden close proximity as he peers over her head to look at his computer screen.

“Damn, you’ve already got the case file typed up? I’d be lost without you Scully.”

She turns sharply, thinking he’s mocking her until she feels him squeeze the ball of her shoulder while he takes a sip of his own coffee. She feels a small glow of warmth ball up in her chest when he gives her a little appreciative wink, mumbling something about a microscope. She watches him as he saunters over to her area of the office, looking handsome and boyish in his dark slacks and stupid rolled up sleeves, and is reminded once more of why she stays.

She smiles and starts typing again.

[jamofappreciation]

Liars: “It’s not a love story.”

Me: Then why is it written, shot, framed, set, directed, acted, composed, and edited like a love story?

[jamofappreciation]

Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs.

[jamofappreciation]

155 words, shy

DC dense with silk-tree blossoms and exhaust. Conspiracies, mosquitoes.

Mulder wears a shirt from some Brit in Georgetown. Fever-dream tie by Jerry Garcia. He’d pulled her forth bare as a newborn, cold as the dead, carried her up to the pallid sun. His mouth on hers, flattening her breasts and it wasn’t sexual but-

“Share some appetizers?”

Hollow from cancer and Emily and whatever her purpose at the bottom of the world. From hunger.

Hungry, but for what? She suspects, scrunches her shoulders, ducks her chin, as though it isn’t Mulder chewing a straw with fading frostbite on his cinnamon cheek.

Didn’t kiss in his hall, but they would have and does that count? It must, they both know, both tasted the hot, verging air.

Bites her lip, looks up. His mossy eyes on her own, Mulder Byronic and autumnal in August.

“Yes,” she says, watchful. Blushing lightly. “Let’s get some.”

Reaches for his hand.