sunflowerseedsandscience

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

BEE DAGGER !!

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

My friend just reminded me of this masterpiece, which we’ve been obsessed with for years.

just so you know, X Gon’ Give It To Ya’ and A Thousand Miles have the same BPM

they didnt match up perfectly but I did some editing.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Familiar (7/?)

They came to the edge of a long field just as the sun crested the western hills, throwing gold across the grass. Dana slowed her steps and raised a hand to shield her eyes.

A spire.

It rose straight and solemn into the sky, its pointed crown tipped with a simple iron cross. Below it, low stone buildings clustered within a high wall, the pale stones catching the last warmth of day.

A monastery.

Dana’s heart sank.

She’d been hoping for a village—a place with a proper tavern, a washhouse, maybe someone willing to trade bread for coin or mending. Her clothes were stiff from days on the road and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and sweat. She was down to one clean pair of stockings. And though the rabbit Fox had brought her had taken the edge off her hunger that morning, the thought of something hot, rich, and salted made her chest ache.

She exhaled and looked down at the fox, who had come to stand beside her. His ears twitched as the low, echoing clang of bells rang out across the field, slow and rhythmic, calling the monks to prayer—or supper.

“Supper,” she muttered.

They found a rise not far from the field, a hill that gave them a clearer view of the stone walls and cloister garden beyond. Dana sat beneath an old, knotted tree and let her pack drop beside her with a heavy thud. She stared at the monastery for a long while.

No villagers. No market. No refuge.

Just discipline. Chants. Silence.

Fox lay in the grass near her feet, tail tucked neatly against his flank.

Dana leaned back against the tree, letting her eyes fall closed. “Just a nap,” she murmured, half to herself, half to him, the low feeling of disappointment pulling her into the quietus of sleep. 

***

When she woke, the sun had fallen and dusk had settled like a veil. The air was cooler, soft with the scent of damp earth and crushed grass. For a moment she didn’t move—just listened.

No birdsong. No wind.

And no sign of Fox.

She sat up quickly, brushing hair from her face and looking around.

“Fox?” she called softly.

Nothing answered but the hush of early evening.

Her heartbeat picked up. She rose and turned in a slow circle, scanning the darkening trees and the slope of the hill.

Footsteps crunched behind her.

Dana bolted behind the tree.

“Dana?”

She blinked.

It was Fox. In human form now, his voice laconic and unmistakable. She stepped from behind the trunk just as he came into view, carrying a heavy-looking sack slung over his shoulder. He looked slightly winded, his cheeks pink with effort or excitement.

“You gave me a fright,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest.

His mouth twitched into a smile. “Come.”

He led her down the far side of the hill, away from the monastery, to a shallow clearing bordered by blackberry brambles. The air was still and safe-feeling, the trees sheltering them from view.

“Start a fire?” he suggested, and dropped the sack to the ground with a soft thump.

Dana hesitated, studying him in the growing dark. He looked neither urgent nor afraid. Just... pleased with himself.

She knelt and began to gather sticks. A few minutes later, a small, merry fire crackled between them, licking at the twilight.

Fox knelt by the sack and began to unpack it.

First came a thick wool blanket—coarse but warm, the kind woven by hand. Then two loaves of bread, each round and golden with crust. Finally, a bottle sealed with a cork, the earthenware heavy and cool to the touch.

Dana’s stomach let out a very audible growl.

He handed her one of the loaves.

She tore into it without hesitation.

It was still warm.

The crust cracked beneath her fingers, and the inside was soft and fragrant, the scent of yeast and flour and thyme washing over her like something holy.

“Where did you get this?” she asked between bites.

“The monastery,” he said simply.

She froze. “You bought it from them?”

He gave her a look.

“Not exactly.”

She stopped chewing. “You stole it?”

He shrugged. “They won’t miss it.”

“Fox,” she hissed, lowering the bread. “What if you were caught? What if we’re caught now? They hang thieves.”

He tilted his head, the movement very like the one he did in his fox form. “Would you like me to take it back?”

She stared at the bread in her hands. Swallowed. “No.”

He nodded, as if that settled it, and broke his own loaf in half. “I was careful,” he added.

She looked at him, watched the careful way he ate. 

“How did you get in?” she asked, tearing off another piece of bread.

“There’s a hole beneath the wall. Just wide enough for… the other me.”

He smirked and took another bite.

“I went under it, waited until moonrise, then put on a robe I found drying outside. If you wander around like you belong, people tend to ignore you.”

She stared at him, unsure whether to be horrified or impressed.

“And out?” she asked.

“I jumped the fence.”

He must be as agile as his other form.

She looked at the bottle. “What’s in there?”

“Don’t know.” He handed it to her.

She pulled the stopper and sniffed.

Beer.

She took a cautious sip, then a bolder one. It was smooth and malty, and it warmed her all the way down.

She handed it to him. He took a swig, then grimaced.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m not sure.�� He took another tentative sip. “It makes my stomach feel… strange. Warm.”

She chuckled and took the bottle back. “That it does.”

She leaned back against a fallen log, the bread in her lap and the fire crackling cheerfully at her feet. The light from it danced across his face, picking out the fine lines of his jaw, the copper in his hair, the gold in his eyes. He looked impossibly at ease for someone who’d just burgled a monastery.

She noticed he wasn’t eating as quickly as she was.

“Not hungry?”

He fidgeted uncomfortably. 

“I eat in my other form,” he eventually said, shrugging. “And I eat well.” 

He seemed to consider what he’d just said for a moment. “I should save this for you,” he went on, setting the bread aside. 

Dana shook her head. “It will go stale. And it’s warm and delicious. Enjoy it. Please.” 

He took a moment and then nodded, pulling himself another bite. 

For her part, Dana took another pull from the bottle. The fire, the food, and the beer worked their alchemy on her nerves. Her body warmed. Her shoulders loosened.

She felt… content. Against all odds.

Curiosity stirred.

“So,” she said, “tell me about yourself.”

Most of the time she spent in his company, he was a fox. The time spent with him as a man, she was mostly asleep. She want to know everything.

He glanced at her sideways. “How can I tell you what I don’t remember?”

She studied him, the strong line of his nose, the way the firelight warmed his skin with a healthy glow.

“Then tell me what you do remember,” she said gently.

He looked into the flames. After a long, quiet minute, he looked up.

”I woke up in a field outside your village with the unholy eye of a ram staring me down,” he said. 

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

A question for readers with any degree of hyperphantasia.

I got curious, while discussing this with my husband. If you, like me, visualize stories as you read them, and all or some portion of it takes place in a house or apartment, what does said house or apartment look like in your head? Do you imagine every story taking place in your childhood home? Is it the home of a friend or relative? Is it a completely made-up space that doesn't resemble anyplace you've knowingly been in your life? Or is it an amalgamation of both? And is it always the same space, or does it change?

This came up as I was thinking about how I tend to visualize different places. I seem to set an inordinate number of books in a combination of my childhood best friend's home and my grandmother's split-level house. And I sometimes picture totally different settings even when the characters are the same. The house Mulder and Scully live in during "By Falling In and In" by @aloysiavirgata looks different in my head than the house they buy at the end of "Terra Firma" by @malibusunset-xf-blog. Neither are houses I have any memory of visiting. On the other hand, in the later portions of "Iolokus," my brain places Mulder and Scully in my mother's cousin's house, with a random extra room added to the back for no discernable reason.

So which is it for you?

ETA: I should specify that this applies mainly to instances where the author hasn’t described the layout of the location in depth.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Please go vote for this because I need it in my life!!!!!!!!!

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

authors!!

quick question...

also can you remember where you first uploaded your first ever fanfic??

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Reblog with every US state you’ve visited in the tags!

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

I used to follow a message board back during the original run, and the theories being floated by the die-hard noromos the morning after "Requiem" aired were WILD. One person actually suggested that Ed Jerse was the father of Scully's baby, but some weird alien intervention made her gestate super slowly.

i understand ppl not wanting to ship mulder and scully romantically and/or seeing them as queer platonic but it's not the same conversation as it was in the 90s. msr relationshippers were people who wanted mulder and scully to be in a romantic relationship together, while noromos wanted their relationship to remain platonic. you can still be an msr shipper or a noromo but we already know mulder and scully's relationship becomes romantic in nature, which was not the case when the show was airing. despite this you can still prefer the noromo aspect of their relationship since it does prevail most of the show and is not a lesser form of their relationship, but their ship name whether romantic pr platonic is msr, not sculder. it's abt whether you view msr through a shipper or a noromo lens. this is simply too interesting a fandom history to forget or rewrite, friends.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Need y'all to know that these two actors were at PhileFest last year and they're like a goddamn comedy duo together. Immaculate energy.

No idea what’s happening here. Agents Pendrell and Scully have some explaining to do.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

ficlet: wrapped with a bow

@laurencem told me to write Mulder gift-wrapping Scully as his own birthday gift, and I really had nothing else to do tonight. So this is for you, Yeti! You ask, I ignore the state of my apartment and write fic. (I mean, does it really matter whether I clean the bathroom now or tomorrow morning?) This is just a quick little thing, but writing them being silly is so much fun. tagging @today-in-fic

“Scully?” he says, panting and boneless, “Scully? Come up here.”

She lifts her head where she’s kneeling between his legs and wipes her mouth. “Huh?”

“Come up here.” He waves at her limply, his arms heavy, heart still hammering hard in his chest. Are you ready for your first birthday present of the day? she’d asked, slipping between his legs and sucking him off until he was seeing stars. He’d thought he was ready. But good god, he’s amazed she didn’t transport him straight to the afterlife. In fact, he’s not quite sure that this isn’t the afterlife. And if it is… He squeezes his eyes closed. Holy fucking shit, what a way to go.

She stretches out next to him and he brings up a hand to her face to wipe a last drop of his come from the corner of her mouth. She looks so very pleased with herself and she has every reason. He’ll buy her a trophy. He’ll learn to cross-stitch and make her a little thing to hang up above her side of the bed: Dana Katherine Scully, Birthday Blowjob World Champion.

“So you liked your present?” She grins at him, her lips red and swollen, and he grins back at her.

“I did. I loved it.”

“Good.”

“Better than good.” He puts his arms around her as she rests her head against his shoulder. She cuddles up close to him and if they’d be doing nothing but this for the rest of the day, he would be more than okay with that. But as his heart rate returns to normal and he regains the ability to formulate thoughts beyond ‘Oh dear lord yes’ and ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to move again,’ he realizes what would make the morning even better. “Hey Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering…”

“What?”

“Is it too late for one more last-minute birthday wish?”

She frowns, propping herself up on one elbow next to him. “That depends entirely on what it is. You know I’ll let you talk me into anything against my better judgment four times out of five, but I’m not going Bigfoot-hunting with you today. The rain’s really coming down out there.”

“Oh, it’s very much an indoor activity,” he promises. “Well, not that it doesn’t work outside. I mean, we have done it outside. And that was pretty fun, actually. But it’s definitely mostly an indoor thing, and I think maybe you could even consider it a gift for both of us, if you think about it. I know you enjoy it too. I was actually planning to give it to you for your birthday in a few months, but that’s the good thing about it, really. It can be gifted over and over, and—”

“Mulder!”

“Yes?”

“You have to—” she starts, and then squeaks as he rolls her over and tackles her to the mattress.

“I’ll even wrap it myself.”

She laughs. “Mulder,” she says again and wiggles underneath him, not really trying to get free. “Mulder, stop it.”

She giggles uncontrollably as he tugs at the bedsheets with one hand and wrestles her underneath. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m usually better at gift wrapping.”

“You’re crazy,” she gasps as he rolls her into a tight blanket burrito so her arms are pinned to her sides. “You’re completely crazy.”

“You love me.”

“I guess there’s not much point in denying that anymore,” she mumbles, face half smushed into the pillow as she’s lying immobilized on her belly, wrapped up nice and tight.

He kneels next to her and tilts his head pensively as he takes in the picture. “Something is missing.”

“Yeah,” she says, trying to blow at a strand of hair that’s clinging to her cheek. “Your sanity.”

“No, that’s not it.” He brushes the offending strand of hair behind her ear, then holds up a finger. “I know. Hold on. Stay just like this and don’t move.”

“Oh, haha, very funny.” She does her best to sound annoyed, but he can see the sparkling in her eyes as he climbs off the bed.

He searches the floor, their clothes in a trail from door to bed where they hastily discarded them last night, and finally picks up his sweater. He jumps back onto the bed, landing on his knees, making her bounce a few inches on the mattress.

“You’re in so much trouble,” she says. “Once I get out of here. So much trouble.”

“It’s my birthday.” He says. “You can’t be mad at me on my birthday.”

She sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

With a triumphant grin, he slides the sweater under her head and ties the sleeves neatly over her forehead. “There.”

“What on earth…?” she asks.

“Every nicely wrapped present needs a bow.”

“You’re not normal, Mulder.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I suppose. Are you going to unwrap me now?”

He runs a hand over the blanket from her shoulder to her thigh. “Hey, no card?” he asks, doing his best to sound upset. “Where’s the card?”

“Mulder, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay.” He leans down for a kiss and feels her smiling into it. “I guess I’m ready for my present.”

“I think your present is ready for you too.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to unwrap you or is there something else you had in mind?”

The look she gives him is the one that makes him do whatever she commands without a second thought. “At this point? There’d better be a ‘something else’ after the unwrapping.”

She’s trying so hard to look angry with him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Oh, as often as you want,” he promises. “I swear. Part-time-Bigfoot-hunter’s honor!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says dryly.

He unrolls her slowly and carefully, and feels actually, seriously, honest-to-god excited. He feels giddy as he finally pulls the covers off her and watches her lying here, glaring up at him. She’s so beautiful he can barely breathe. “Scully?”

“What now?”

“This is a really good birthday so far.”

“I’m sure it could be even better,” she says, and he kisses her. First her lips. Then the rest of her.

As he lowers his head between her thighs and finally gets his mouth on her, he’s already getting hard again—not surprising, he thinks. Nothing is hotter than getting her off. He lets himself drown in the smell and taste of her, and then she gives him his real present as she arches off the mattress and comes with a cry that makes him happier than any Happy Birthday anyone has ever sung to him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at her, taking in her flushed face, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes heavily through the aftershocks. “Thank you for my present.”

“Oh god.” She lets her head fall back with a long exhale. “You’re welcome.”

“And I really liked my birthday breakfast.”

She starts laughing and he crawls up the bed, looking at her, high on love and happiness.

“You know, I liked mine too and it’s not even my birthday,” she tells him, then sighs deeply. “There was no coffee though.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ll have a second breakfast.”

“We can have breakfast as many times as you like,” she promises, and he lays down next to her and pulls her into his arms.

She’s his real gift, he knows it down to his bones. More than he deserves. But she tells him she loves him and he’s always been a believer, so he’ll believe this too. And give her as many gifts in return as she wants, whenever she wants. Anything he has to give. It’s all hers already.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Had a connection through Chicago O’Hare on my way to meet up with @kateyes224 and @mangokiwitropicalswirl and didn’t have time to find Chili’s and take the obligatory selfie. I’m a bad fan. 😭

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

I’m trying to remember the title of a fanfic. It’s an older story (I think I read it on Gossamer) where Mulder meets a woman who works in a bicycle shop and starts dating her, but gradually he starts wishing he were with Scully instead. Anyone remember the title?

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

Fic: Here's A Hand In Thine (MSR, T)

3800 words; T for alcohol use and innuendo; the Gunmen throw a New Year's Eve party (for @thatfragilecapricorn30)

+ + + +

“Hey, Scully, have you got plans for New Year’s Eve? If not, the Lone Gunmen are throwing a party. Should be a good time.”

She had had plans, with Ellen, but then Trent wasn’t feeling well and Ellen’s babysitter fell through, so that was the end of that. When Mulder had inquired, she'd assented. So here she was, standing in front of her closet, trying to find an outfit that made sense to wear to a party with a group of nerds she barely knew.

“What should I wear?” she asked Melissa, the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder.

“Something adventurous,” Melissa said without hesitation. “Something fun. Live a little, Dana. How long has it been since you went to a real party?”

“I don’t know if this is a real party,” Scully said. “The people throwing it are, well. I wouldn’t describe them as socially adept. They have very specific interests and most of them are technological.”

Melissa snorted. “My sweet naive baby sister. I can’t believe you’ve made it this far through life without knowing that nerds throw the wildest parties. You’re going to a banger.”

Scully flipped through her wardrobe. Suits, skirts, blouses: all of it office-appropriate and none of it particularly festive. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party that could be described as a banger.”

“Not even in med school?”

“I didn’t go out much.” Scully hadn’t really told Melissa about Daniel. She knew Melissa wouldn’t approve, would tell her Daniel had been preying on her, would tell her that she’d missed out on meeting people to spend time with a man who was never going to be anything but a dead end in her life. Maybe that was true, but the disappointment had led her to say yes when the FBI had recruited her, so there had been some value to the whole thing.

“Then you’ve got to party tonight for all the years you missed,” Melissa said. “Don’t let the 90s pass you by, Danes.”

“It’s 1994,” Scully said. “I would hope I’ve got a few more years of the 90s left.”

“You never know,” Melissa said in one of her mysterious voices. “Anything could happen.”

Enough already had, but neither of them mentioned Scully’s disappearance.

(read the rest on AO3)

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

My son: Can I have some scented candles for Christmas?

Me: Sure! What kind of scents would you like? Flowers, food, or ✨nebulous concepts✨?

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

you asked for it, you got it!

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

not sure if you will see this but i had to let you know that your fic “but always together” has been on mind for days and days sincd i first read it. the spacing between the forevers at the end always make me emotional and i can’t believe how greatly you captured what msr would feel like throughout time!! thank you for writing, i hope you get to share more of your ideas & if eternal soulmates were real i’d want mine to look like this

Thanks so much, Anon! It's probably my favorite one-shot I've written.

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

I needed to tell you directly that By Dim and Flaring Lamps is one of my all time favorite fics. I am a total history nerd and the Civil War/Reconstruction Era is one of my specific history interests. I was inspired to reread it recently after reading a book about the Bleeding Kansas era and the lead up to the Civil War and it was absolutely delightful. IMO Historical AU is such an underrated fic genre, largely because it's hard to do well and with accurate characterization, and you write it so well. Your other works are also amazing. Thank you for sharing them with us!

Thank you!!! I too am a history nerd (such a shock, I know, with my love of historical AU's) and the American Civil War is one of my special interests, as well. My parents were good sports when I was in middle school about stopping by whatever random battlefield happened to be on our route whenever we were on road trips. Also I agree about historical AU being underrated, not just for reading but for writing. I find it so much fun to fit the characters into a totally different time period, keeping their personalities intact while making them appropriate to the era.