#IF DANA POSTED ONE TODAY PLEASE TAG ME I HAVE YET TO SEE IT

[cozones-hellhole]

TONIGHT. 9 PM. EST. EPISODE

I'M SO FUCKING HYPED YOU HAVE NO IDEA MY GUY THIS SHIT IS GONNA BE AWESOME

Here they are together, they are at a party.

Headcanon 3/3 King sleeps at the foot of Enzos bed like a cat, also, he lays in their hat like it's a bed. I think about this frequently.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 2

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The Hoover building is still quiet at 8 am, weary agents are sipping their second cup of coffee and wrapping their brains around the task of the day. Studying the minds of murderers, rapists and sadistic torturers is enough to spoil anyone’s breakfast, and yet they approach it clinically, objectively. The reward of knowing that you helped take a monster off the streets is barely enough to keep them going, but they do. Maybe even more than that, they live with the guilt of knowing that if they stopped, it might mean one more murdered child or assaulted woman. One more man found floating in the river. So they get up every day and do it again.

Mulder stops by A.D. Kirkbride’s office to say good morning and finds the man angrily shoving the phone back on its cradle with a plasticky crack.

“Morning, sir. Going great so far I gather?” he quips from his spot in the doorframe.

A.D. Kirkbride scoffs, running a hand through his short cropped sandy-blonde hair. Diminutive in stature, Kirkbride is someone to be taken seriously. His pointed features and gold-rimmed glasses convey the gravity of the work they do here each day in his ever-present frown.

“These goddamn worthless couriers are on my last fucking nerve,” he laments, gathering the papers on his desk into one pile with jerky, frustrated movements. “This is the third goddamn time one of them has no-showed. We need that autopsy report from Quantico today, and because this worthless fucking courier decided to get the flu or something, we have to send an agent down there to get it.” He sighs and sits back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Can you send Agent Wilkes in here, please, so I can let him know he has to waste two fucking hours of his day driving down there?”

Mulder shrugs. “I can go get it, I haven’t even started on the Marino file yet. It’s a nice day for a drive.”

Kirkbride eyes him skeptically. “You’re a senior agent, Mulder. You’ve earned the right not to be the bitch-boy.”

Mulder laughs good-naturedly. “I appreciate that, sir, but I really don’t mind. I just got the new Radiohead cassette, it’ll give me a chance to listen to it.”

Kirkbride nods and puts his glasses back on. “I guess it’s Wilkes’ lucky day, then. It’s the autopsy report for the Dugan file, you should be able to get it from the pathologist on duty. And don’t fuck around, we need it ASAP.”

Mulder puts a hand to his chest and makes a mock-wounded face. “Me? Fuck around? I would never, sir.”

Kirkbride shakes his head with a smirk and turns back to his computer. “Get the fuck out of here, Mulder.”

It’s a beautiful late-Spring day and Mulder really does appreciate the opportunity to take a drive to Quantico, even during the morning rush hour. Removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he pops in the cassette and merges onto I-395 South as Thom Yorke sings Paranoid Android.

Ninety minutes later, he’s parked near the morgue; having worked out of Quantico for years before securing a spot on the small team of criminal behavioral analysts who operate out of the Hoover building, he knows his way around. He first pokes his head into the office the pathologists share and, finding it empty, he moves on to the autopsy bay. The slabs are all clean and free from corpses, which is a relief. As many crime scene photos as he’s seen, the live version always gives him the creeps. A young woman in blue scrubs is perched on a stool with her back to him, filling out a form by hand. He approaches her, speaking when he’s still several feet away so he doesn’t startle her.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he says, and she swivels on her seat, her shoulder length auburn hair swinging gently with the motion.

When she turns to face him, he’s momentarily struck by how pretty she is. Her red hair is complemented by ivory skin, a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her Grecian nose. Her eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, not unlike the morning sky he’d enjoyed on his drive down.

“I’m the pathologist on duty, how can I help you, Mr.-” she looks at him expectantly.

“Mulder, Agent Mulder,” he replies, stepping forward to offer his hand.

“How can I help you, Agent Mulder?” she asks, taking his hand with a firm, confident grip, though her palm is dwarfed by his own broad paw.

“I’ve been tasked with picking up the Dugan autopsy report. Seems like there was a snafu with the courier,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets in an attempt to act casual.

She stands, and he’s again struck, but this time by how short she is, barely reaching his shoulder in her sneakers. “That’s an odd task for an agent, isn’t it?” she says as she moves to a small filing cabinet and rifles through its contents.

He moves to stand beside her, leaning against the wall. “I suppose so, but I don’t mind. Nice to take a break from profiling sociopaths now and then.” He feels his heart do a little leap at the small smile that quirks at the corner of her mouth in response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he continues.

She turns to him, holding out a file. “I didn’t give it,” she says dryly. “It’s Dana Scully. I did this autopsy myself, actually, and I’d be interested to know what you make of it.”

He opens the file and leafs through its contents as she returns to her post on the stool, picking up her pen. She appears to see this conversation as concluded, but he doesn’t feel ready for it to end just yet.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard a bit about this case, though it’s not one I’m assigned to. What interests you about it?” he asks as he follows her back to where she’s sat down, taking the stool beside her without invitation. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything about it.

“My findings indicate that though there is only one entry point for the stab wound, there were at least 15 distinct entries into that same location, which would suggest that the assailant stabbed him in nearly the exact same location repeatedly. I suppose I’m wondering what would possess someone to do that.”

He watches her speak with rapt attention, transfixed by the soft, sibilant S’s that pour from her pouty mouth.

“Hey Scully, do you know of any good coffee places around here?” he asks hopefully, completely changing the subject.

She gives him a curiously incredulous look. “Scully is my last name, my first name is Dana,” she answers.

He studies her for a moment, then shakes his head slowly. “You don’t look like a Dana,” he finally says.

Her eyebrows lift and he can see that she’s fighting back a smile. “Really? What do I look like then?”

“A Scully,” he says plainly, and his heart fills to bursting at the wry smile he gets in response.

She shakes her head and turns back to the form she was filling out. “There’s a place called Cafe Adamo a few minutes away that’s pretty good,” she answers his question.

“Great, are you free now?” he asks, forcing a calm demeanor even as his palms are becoming clammy.

She snaps her head up from the form to look at him with an open-mouthed expression of surprise, and he sees a bit of panic in her eyes. Not a good sign.

“Oh,” she stammers, “I’m sorry, Agent Mulder, I have a boyfriend.” Her cheeks are reddening in a devastatingly cute way.

He keeps his expression neutral, and can’t resist messing with her a little.

“I just meant as colleagues, Scully, to discuss the file,” he says matter-of-factly.

If she was blushing before, she’s morphing into a tomato now. She closes her eyes briefly and takes a breath. “I-I am so sorry, Agent Mulder, that was very presumptuous.”

He smiles broadly, no longer able to contain how much fun he’s having with this exchange.

“I’m just messing with you, Scully. I was definitely asking you out,” he admits, and her eyes go big before she deflates a little with relief, biting her lip and looking away with a soft smile on her mouth. “Thank you for this,” he says, holding up the file. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

He stands and moves to the door, stopping just before he exits. “Say hi to that boyfriend of yours for me,” he adds, “he’s a lucky guy.”

She blushes again and he takes a moment to soak up the image before he returns to his car. Tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he flips the cassette to side B and hits the road back up to Washington, finding that he can’t seem to get his mouth to stop smiling.

————————————————————————-

She slumps through the door at half-past six, dead on her feet.

“Hey,” Ethan calls from in front of the stove, “dinner will be about twenty minutes, if you want to take a shower.”

He knows that she always likes to shower when she’s performed autopsies, not wanting the stink of the morgue to find its way onto any of their furniture.

“Thank you,” she replies, toeing off her shoes and stopping by to give him a quick kiss before she moves to the bathroom.

The hot spray of the shower is a welcome relief and she emerges feeling much more alert. They sit at the table, sharing the details of their days over shrimp scampi and white wine. They tend to be very thorough in their retelling of their workdays, and Ethan gives a play by play of a meeting with his boss before Dana tells him all about a student who challenged her in front of the class and how she shut him down. She doesn’t intentionally leave out the interaction with Agent Mulder, but it doesn’t come up somehow.

After dinner, they curl up on the couch to watch ER together. Ethan is on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch, and Dana fits herself into the vee of his legs, her back resting on his chest. He idly traces his fingers across her collarbone and shoulders while they watch George Clooney and Julianna Margulies grapple with being both coworkers and lovers.

This is their favorite show, and yet her mind continues to wander to those hooded green eyes, and the boyish smile that played across his pouty lower lip. He was very cute, that’s without question, but she interacts with handsome men all the time at work; why is this particular one worming his way into her brain? She shakes her head to clear the thought, then rotates her body so that she’s belly to belly with Ethan, her head resting on his chest. He kisses the crown of her head and she sighs. She’s got a good thing here, that much she knows.

Maybe she should have gotten coffee with him, though, as colleagues. Maybe.

[baronessblixen]

For fictober, can you write Mulder surprising Scully at work post IWTB and her coworkers are stunned by how handsome he is? I can see her getting unnecessarily jealous that she’s had him all to herself until now.

Look, it’s me answering a prompt I got for last year’s Fictober... thank you all for your patience. Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober

Fictober Day 4

“Would you look at that hottie?” Scully barely registers what her colleague is saying as she is hastily scribbling down notes, thinking about lunch. Her stomach grumbles, reminding her that it’s been long hours since breakfast. Who has time to ogle visitors, no matter how hot they may be?

“There you are.” She may not have time for, or interest in, random hotties, but she knows – and loves – the one that’s walking towards her. His voice, even after all this time, still makes her heart beat faster. 

“Mulder?” she asks, surprise evident in her voice. He is grinning from ear to ear, looking fabulous. When he briefly hugs her and kisses her cheek, she hears a gasp right next to her.

“Um, Andrea this is…,” Scully stops, holding Mulder’s hand in hers, nervously playing with his fingers. They haven’t discussed this. At all. Who is he? What is he to her? Mulder must sense her inner conflict and slips an arm around her waist.

“Fox Mulder,” he says, extending his hand. “Dana’s husband.”

“Her- I had no idea,” Andrea says, her eyes darting between them. There’s a blush creeping into her cheeks as she shakes Mulder’s hand. “I’m Andrea Novak, I work with Dana. She’s never mentioned you so I doubt she’s mentioned me.” Both Mulder and Andrea laugh and Scully wonders if she should leave them alone. She knows there’s no need, none whatsoever, to be jealous and yet... 

“Dana likes to keep me to herself,” Mulder says, squeezing her side.

“I, um, it’s… new. We… Mulder, what are you even doing here?”

“Ah, I thought I’d take you to lunch. You’ve been so busy lately and I wanted to make sure you eat.”

“Aww,” Andrea says, clutching her heart. “He’s handsome and thoughtful.”

Mulder beams at her.

“We should get going,” Scully says, trying to get out of the situation – and Mulder away from Andrea. The other doctor is her friend, and she knows how she is around men – especially ones she finds attractive – but Mulder has always been oblivious to the effect he has on women. He hasn’t been around people for so long that he’s like a puppy, just dancing and jumping around everyone who gives him attention, wanting to make new friends.

“You could join us if you’re free,” Mulder says and Scully wants to groan.

“That’s a- hey, Alex!” Andrea stops mid-sentence and waves at another doctor who is watching them with eagle eyes. Oh no, Scully thinks. Dr. Alexandra Tanner is her superior and she loves to gossip. She comes over, smiling brightly, her teeth as white as her scrubs.

“Dr. Novak, Dr. Scully- and who are you?”

“Dr. Fox Mulder,” Mulder says, sounding dead serious. “But my friends just call me Dr. Spooky.” There’s a pause and Scully thinks he might have blown it, but then both Alex and Andrea start laughing.

“He’s hilarious,” Alex says to no one in particular.

“He’s Dr. Scully’s husband,” Andrea says, the slightest hint of awe in her voice.

“Oh?”

“Where have you been hiding him? And why?” Now even Mulder is quiet, though he recovers quickly.

“We both lead busy lives.” Scully is the only person who knows he’s lying and as far as she can tell, the other two women believe him. Why wouldn’t they? They’re impressed by him, bedazzled even. Scully feels love swell up inside her. He’s her partner, her man. Her… husband. That’s something they need to discuss.

“You need to come to our annual Christmas party this year. Say you’ll be there, please.” It’s as though Scully is no longer there. It’s all about Mulder. She bites her lip to keep quiet. She’ll give them this moment. They’ll be on her later, wanting to know every little detail about Mulder and their relationship. Once again they’re gossip fodder, cheap watercooler talk.

“I’ll pencil it in,” Mulder says with a smile and he gets another laugh. “If you’ll excuse us now, I’m starving. I’ll bring her back in an hour. It was nice meeting you.” He shakes their hands again and finally they’re off.

“That was… something,” he whispers into her ear. His arm is still around her, keeping her close to him. “I really did surprise you, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles.

“Bad surprise?”

“Oh Mulder,” she says, stopping. She faces him and cups his cheek. “You’re always a wonderful surprise.” 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sounding impatient. “I wanted to do it as soon as I saw you, but your colleague looked at me as if she wanted to eat me.”

Scully smiles up at him. “I think you might be right. And yes, you can kiss me.” His lips are soft against her, feel right, taste perfect. Even if the whole hospital is watching them now, she doesn’t care. Her and Mulder, that’s what counts.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss you in public,” he says against her lips.

“You have kissed me in public.”

“Not in a while,” he replies, nuzzling her nose and making her giggle.

“You told them you’re my husband.”

“Does that bother you?”

“We’re not married, Mulder.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Excuse me? I think I would remember us exchanging vows.”

“Not in the traditional sense maybe,” he says with a grin. “I feel married to you,” he continues, his face and voice serious. “Should I have said I’m your boyfriend? That’s not us, is it?”

“We’re still partners,” she says.

“In crime,” he nudges her shoulder with his.

“Is this something you want?” Scully asks him. People keep rushing past them, but she fears that if they take one step, whether to the left or right, it will destroy this moment. They should have talked about this a million times over. But they’ve always done things their own way.

“Right now I want to take you to lunch. In the future? I meant what I said, Scully. I feel married to you. I don’t need a paper to confirm it – unless you do. You’re it for me. You’re stuck with me.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with, Mulder. You’re it for me, too.”

He leans down once more, kisses her softly, and she closes her eyes, reveling in the fact that he’s hers, that she’s his. And they’re finally allowed to show it to the world. 

“And you say we haven’t exchanged vows,” he says against your lips. “Now come on, wife of mine. Let’s go eat.”

[scullydubois]

Only the Light: Ch. 10

10/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: s2, ep 12, Aubrey (post-ep) | T (for now?) | 4.5k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic

Missy accompanies Scully to a doctor's appointment. Afterward, Missy confronts Scully about her feelings for Mulder, and Scully slips-up on the phone.

-----------------------------

She digs through her suitcase, searching for the business card she tucked in the pocket with her underwear. A sharp edge penetrates her skin, stings immediately. Her fingers close around the paper card and pull it out. A thin red cut traces the length of her middle finger, blood begging to seep out. She ignores it and grabs the phone off her nightstand, plugging in the number for the Aubrey Motel. 

As she’s dialing, she realizes that it’s already past lunchtime in DC, and even though Missouri is an hour behind, there’s no way Mulder is in his room. She lets it ring anyway, then asks the man who answers for room 12. He patches her through, and sure enough, the line rings until it gives up. 

Impressed by her own newfound patience, Scully hangs up and dials Mulder’s cell instead. She’s not exactly sure why she didn’t just do this in the first place; maybe she likes the idea of Mulder being stationary without her, stuck in his room like a lost little boy with no one to guide him. Her heart sinks when she thinks about Mulder gallivanting around Aubrey, solving the case like there’s nothing to it, like he could have been doing it by himself all this time. She wants him to need her. Naturally, she is ashamed of this desire.

She hits the call button and waits while an invisible force shoots across states and connects her to her partner. She does not have to wait long; he answers after the first ring.

“Hello?” He sounds the same as always. Simultaneously there and drifting, one body split between two minds. 

“Mulder, it’s me.” 

“Hey Scully.” There is a lightness in his voice now, like a balloon cut free of its tether. He is smiling, she thinks...She hopes.

“I just wanted to let you know I made it home safely…” She trails off, not wanting to stop talking to him, but finding herself with nothing else to say. 

“I’m glad, Scully.” He always addresses her by name more when they are apart. This is a comfort to both of them. “How’s Melissa?”

Scully looks through the doorway, confirming that her sister is nowhere near to cause any antics. “She’s alright.” She deals in half-truths. “We’re going to the doctor later to get an x-ray, but I think it’s just a sprain.” 

“Well, keep me updated. I found a lead on the case--Harry Cokely, the suspect of one of the 1945 murders. I’m on my way to see him. He’s been out of jail since ‘93.”

Scully gulps. “Are you alone?”

“Uh-huh.” He senses her tension through the line. “But I’ll be fine, Scully, he’s an old geezer now. What kind of agent am I if I can’t defend myself against an eighty year old?”

“You could have taken BJ with you.”

“And put a pregnant woman in the line of fire? I’ll be fine, Scully. They wouldn’t have let him out if he were still a danger.”

“Okay, Mulder.” This is not what she means, but it has already been a long day, and there is too much left of it to get into an argument with him. 

“I might be able to come back tomorrow,” she blurts out, as if saying it will make it more true. “...I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“Take all the time you need, Scully. I’ve got this.”

She knows he is trying to be accommodating-- though he so rarely is--but his casual manner confirms her worst fears about her own superfluity. “I want to work, Mulder, you know that.”

“I’m not gonna stop you.” Then, his voice uneven, suspecting but not willing to confront--”Just take care of Melissa--and yourself--okay?”

She nods into the phone. “I will.”  She is staring at the barrel of Mulder’s metaphorical gun, knowing he won’t shoot, almost wishing he would. Bleeding out feels like the simple solution. “Bye, Mulder.”

She is leaving so soon, he thinks, grateful to have had her voice accompanying him on the trip. “Bye, Scully. Call the motel tonight, will you?”

“Alright.” She kills the line, each extra second another thorn in her side, a lie allowed to linger. Sin multiplying.

She stands there, clasping the phone in her hand and feeling like a stranger to herself. Her sister thought she should tell him before she flew a thousand miles and let an hour fall between them, and she disobeyed. What Melissa didn’t understand was that vulnerability is not a word in her and Mulder’s shared language. There’s no way to spell out the situation, even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t want to at the time. Or rather, she had wanted to so badly that it was dangerous, that she knew she risked more pain by telling than by withholding. She would have had to invent new words in their language, expand its bounds, and who knows what would come next. Give someone the language to express their feelings, and they will say them. And what then?

She is scared of her own feelings--and his too--because she knows that admitting means losing, somewhere down the road, and she doesn’t ever want to be without him. If she had never met him, she would never have to live without him. This is the gun that is always pressed to her head. She and Mulder are both holding the trigger.

She doesn’t know if he has such a gun against his temple, thinks that maybe he doesn’t, hopes so at least. There have been others for him, she knows this. Phoebe and...well, Phoebe’s the only one she’s met, and she wasn’t that impressive. But he’s a good-looking guy, and a good guy at that, and the whispers of a dark-haired woman who broke his heart float up and down the hallways of the Hoover building. He doesn’t tell, and Scully won’t ask because she worries that the mystery woman is the gun he holds against his own head.

She sets the phone back in its receiver, tired of thinking about guns and triggers and brains blown out. For now, she is in one piece--she’s pretty sure--and she would like to stay that way for as long as her soul will let her.

Her sister calls from down the hallway. “Dana, are you ready?”

Scully managed to book a last-minute appointment with her OB-GYN, thanks to Missy’s insistence that it was an emergency. Personally, she wouldn’t use such a strong word--I mean, it’s not like she’s hemorrhaging or anything. It’s the absence of blood that’s the problem. But there are tests, scans, and probing of the like that can be done, and once Scully admitted this her sister would not drop the issue. Off to every woman’s favorite place they go. 

--------

The waiting room is a stepping stone, a purgatory, a beginning and an ending rolled into one. She has been here before, many times. In the past, it felt like an inconvenience, not a threat.

She makes an appointment every year, does everything exactly as she is supposed to do in between, and still she is here and scared. She is careful as careful comes, as prepared as one petite woman alone in the world can be. She can dislocate a jaw, strike a man’s legs out from under him, break a nose. And yet, and yet, and yet...Who first uttered “fairness,” thought it existed on this Earth?

Even so, the consolation of knowing lingers in the distance. Like the minutes between calling 911 and the ambulance arriving. Help is on the way. The nightmare will end, or it will settle in. Lucky or unlucky. Win or lose.

Scully is not sure what she wants to hear. Three tests is quite definitive; pregnancy is unlikely. And what else is there? That her cycle has been thrown off by stress, that it’ll come back on its own time, don’t worry about it? That’s no comfort. She doesn’t want something to be wrong with her, but she knows something’s not right, and what’s worse than knowing that you don’t know? She and Mulder have lived in that hell for years. She can handle mysteries of the outside world, but what a cruel trick for her own body to blockade her. 

Missy nudges her from the adjacent vinyl seat, elbow meeting bicep. “What are you thinking about?”

“How my mind doesn’t know what’s going on with my own body,” Scully replies dryly. “I mean, I know I have a tendency to close myself off, but I’ve cloistered myself so much I no longer know what I am.”

Melissa frowns. “Don’t you mean who? Who you are?”

“No.” Scully shakes her head, looks at her lap. In her darkest thoughts and most blistering nightmares, she is not human anymore. They desecrate her, ravage her body, and leave a memento in her skin, a touch of them. It’s so vivid it might be a memory. Mulder wants an alien; he may have one. That would be ironic, huh? 

Can you learn to believe in yourself when you become something you never thought existed?

Can you still believe in God?

Every job she has dreamed of doing involves solving. Knowing enough to know what you don’t know, then figuring that out. Taking the pencil lines, shading them in. Seeking and finding and never wondering why. She cannot keep this up. There has got to be a meaning.

It is not enough, anymore, to simply wonder for the sake of wondering. To cast light over the darkness because you are tired of the darkness. Why? Is she doing it for Mulder, for the traumatized twelve-year boy locked inside him? Is she doing it for herself, fending off the fallibility, reconciling her belief with proof so that she can get off her own back? Or is she doing it because she was told to, because she is still the daddy’s girl who wants to please? 

Twenty-nine years, and she is still coming to terms with herself. We are all our own x-file. We are all taking ourselves apart and piecing ourselves back together and looking for meaning and losing our minds. 

Missy reaches over the wooden arm of the seat and pats Scully’s hand. Scully is reminded that she hasn’t yet ruled out the possibility that her sister is a mind-reader.

“Dana?” a nurse calls. Her first name feels so secondary that Scully feels certain they’re calling someone else.

“Right here!” Missy responds, getting up and pulling her sister along with her. Scully tugs her sister’s sleeve like a child might, wonders if Missy has ever considered motherhood. 

Once in the corridor, they separate. The nurse takes Scully to get her vitals checked, while Melissa seeks out waiting room D, where the nurse’s flat voice--already tired from hours on the job--told her to wait.

It is not long before her sister joins her there.

“How was it?” Missy asks before Dana even manages to sit down.

Scully shrugs. She turns her left hand to show the pink bandaid on her index finger. “My iron levels are above average.”

“That’s not serious, right?”

“No, it’s usually a good thing.”

They sit quietly, listening to the staticky alt rock song coming through the speakers. They are alone in this particular area, but nurses and doctors bustle just around the corner from them.

Scully regards her sister with a latent curiosity. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Missy turns to her, laughs. “What?”

Scully is somewhat perturbed by her sister’s nonchalant reaction. “Do you want to be a mother?” she reiterates. “It’s not something we’ve talked about since we were kids, so I was wondering.”

“If my life unfolds that way, then surely I think I’d enjoy it. But I’m not prioritizing it.”

“Ahh.” Her sister has always had a particular reverence for destiny. 

“And besides,” Missy continues, “it could be hard, you know, with Trinity and all.”

It takes Scully a moment to realize what she means. “Oh.” That’s something she’s never had to worry about herself. She runs her finger along the grooves of her bandaid, feels her heart clench up for her sister. “There’s always adoption.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s a long, drawn-out process from what I’ve heard.”

“Mmm.” Scully nods, wondering how two women could have two such conflicting problems. 

Before she can voice the irony of this, another nurse pops out from around the corner, peers at a clipboard. “Dana Scully?” Her voice is bright and chipper.

“That’s me,” Scully says, raising a hand to show the bandaid, her battle scar.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Missy pats Dana’s shoulder as she stands up. “I’ll stay here. Come get me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Scully breathes, grateful to be given her space yet to know support is right around the corner.

----------------

For someone that went to medical school--and enjoyed it, for that matter--Scully always feels much too out of place in a gynecology office. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before. In textbook diagrams, in wall art, in her own flesh. Yet the 3D model of the reproductive system, the color-coded illustration of the uterus, and the various pamphlets on everything from STDs to birth control to what to expect postnatal smother her, serving as a fresh reminder that Catholicism’s tendency to repress haunts her still. She’s more bothered by her involuntary discomfort than what she sees. 

Dr. Zapolsky enters, easing some of Scully’s nerves immediately. Tall and dark-skinned, she has been practicing medicine for 20 years, and Scully has been seeing her since she moved to Washington. She can be intimidating if you don’t know her, but she’s honest and extremely competent, two things Scully requires of her doctors. And herself.

“Hello, Dana.” Scully sits up straighter as the woman’s voice hits her eardrums. She’s admired Dr. Zapolsky for years, seeing her as an exemplary figure, someone that might have been a mentor to her had she put her medical degree to work. “What can I do for you today?”

There are few things Scully hates as much as being the patient. If she’s the patient, that means she has failed at being her own doctor. That means she didn’t know--and worse--didn’t think she could figure it out on her own.

She wrings her hands. “My cycle is over a week late, which is very concerning considering that it’s always been timely. I’ve been having migraines and nausea and nightmares, and I just know something is wrong.”

Dr. Zapolsky drops Scully’s file on the counter. “Well, the pregnancy portion of your urine test came back negative.”

“I took three drugstore pregnancy tests too, and they were all negative. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you had any notable lifestyle changes over the past few months?” Dr. Zapolsky asks. “Anything out of the ordinary? Stress is a major contributor to fluctuations in the menstrual cycle, as I’m sure you know.”

Scully nods, gathers herself. Dr. Zapolsky is oblivious to the rabbithole she has just fallen into. “I was, um, abducted, about eight weeks ago, and I have no memory of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky wheels her stool beside the medical chair. “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” Scully looks at her feet. They dangle a few inches above the tile like a child’s. Nothing new. She glances back at her doctor. “There isn’t much to say. I don’t know anything about what happened.”

“Well, tell me what you do know.” Then, seeing the apprehension on Scully’s face--”I’m not trying to play therapist, I just want to understand.”

Scully blinks slowly to keep from crying. It goes like this, it always does: she can manage the trauma until she has to say it out loud. This is a story no one wants to be in, but everyone wants to hear.

“I was taken by a man involved in a case that I worked on. Well, that my partner worked on, actually. I got involved--and long and complicated story short--the man broke into my apartment, bound my wrists and ankles, and stuffed me in his trunk. That’s the part I do remember. After the trunk, it’s all a blur really.”

The doctor furrows her brow. “How were you found?”

“I wasn’t found, I was returned. To the hospital. None of the staff had any idea how I got there, and I was bathed and cleaned by my abductors so no trace evidence was collected.”

“So no rape kit was done, then?”

Scully shakes her head.

The doctor uncrosses her legs, recrosses them with the opposite leg on top. “How long were you missing?”

“About a month...My mother bought me a gravestone, she didn’t think I would be found.” This is a detail she has never spoken out loud. Saying it feels like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon. 

“I’m so sorry, Dana.” Dr. Zapolsky lifts a hand, then puts it back in her lap. “May I hug you?” Scully nods and lets herself be embraced, though she does not feel it necessary. “That sounds like a horrific ordeal.”

Scully shrugs as best she can with Dr. Zapolsky’s arms wrapped around her. “It comes with the job.” Always modest about her suffering, she is. 

Dr. Zapolsky speaks into Scully’s ear. “No, I don’t think it does.” 

The doctor lets go. Scully doesn’t say anything. She curls the fingers of her left hand around her right wrist and squeezes hard enough to be certain that it’ll leave a mark.

Dr. Zapolsky slides her stool back over to the counter, flips through Scully’s file.

“I’d say the best course of action is to start with a blood test. I’ll check a few hormone levels---follicle-stimulating, anti-mullerian, luteinizing. That’ll give some insight into your pituitary gland function and your egg reserve.”

Scully nods along. Those hormones are complicated names she barely remembers, but she trusts it’s the right course of action.

“With that, we can determine whether this is a symptom of a larger problem, or if it’s simply a result of the stress you’ve been under. It should only take a couple days to get the results back.”

Scully nods, bites her lip. More waiting.

“Have you been seeing a therapist by any chance?” Dr. Zapolsky asks.

Scully shakes her head. Dr. Zapolsky should know her better than that. 

“Well, I highly recommend it even to those who have not gone through any trauma. And for a survivor, it can truly be life-changing.”

A survivor. What is she, a war hero? That word is fitting for her father, who lived on the sea and sought eternal rest there. Not her.

“Thank you, but I’m okay.” Scully cannot meet her doctor’s glance.

“If you need any referrals, I can give you some names.” Dr. Zapolsky is just trying to help, Scully knows this, but this is not the help she came here for. 

“The FBI has an on-site psychologist,” she says to close the subject.

“Oh, what a wonderful resource.”

“Most definitely.” Scully smiles weakly and ducks her head, ready to get out of here.

-------

There are many things she is afraid of, but physical pain is not one of them. The unknown, slow but certain death--these are the things that spook Dana Scully. When you’ve spent years being told that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, you are prepared to suffer for honor. 

This is simply the prick of a needle, a relinquishing. Doctors used to prescribe it as the cure for any ailment, believing it to vanquish toxins from the body. Med school would have been a lot simpler if that were true.

She watches the blood flow out of her veins and into the vial. Some people can’t look; she can’t look away. Missy is seated in the chair next to her, chin resting in her palm after her offer to hold Scully’s hand was rejected. She traces the path of her sister’s blue eyes as they slide from her arm to the vial in the nurse’s hand. Dana has never been afraid to look--that’s the problem.

In an instant, it is done. The nurse smooths a bandage over Scully’s skin, tells her they will call with the results in a few days. And then it is two sisters, going, going, gone.

----------

They have a pleasant ride home, a soft and sisterly evening in. The prospect of Dana going back to Aubrey in the morning never even comes up, much to Melissa’s relief. Perhaps the illusion of normalcy her sister pedals in her head has finally given way to their unreal reality. They don’t waste a moment on the uncertainty circling them, instead curling up on the couch with popcorn and gummy bears for another Golden Girls marathon.

“Which one do you think Mulder is?” Missy asks during a slow moment in the episode.

“Huh?” Scully laughs. “Which Golden Girl, you mean?”

“Uh-huh.” Missy pops a red gummy in her mouth. “Or is he too interesting to be pinned down?” she teases, mimicking the swoony non-answer he gave about Scully some weeks ago.

“I don’t know honestly,” she says, pushing a blanket out of her lap. “I’m not sure that I know him well enough to decide.”

“You’re kidding.” Missy glares at her. Clearly her sister has not dropped the illusion after all.

“No, I’m not,” Scully intones, getting up to refill the gummy bear bowl. “And that reminds me, he wanted me to call.” She glances at the clock. It’s half past 8 there, so surely Mulder is back in his motel room. 

Missy isn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She follows her sister into the kitchen. “Dana, I guarantee that you know him better than anyone else in the world. If they conducted a test on every single living human being’s knowledge of Fox Mulder, you would get the highest score.”

“Knowledge isn’t the same as understanding,” Scully murmurs, dumping the remaining gummy bears into the bowl. 

“I’ll give you that, but you know what? You do understand him, you’re just too afraid to confront it.”

Scully wants to recoil, but freezes in place instead. It’s just as dramatic but gives less away. After a breath, she crumples the plastic bag into a ball and dunks it swiftly into the wastebasket.

She speaks rigidly, each word cutting through the air. “If I understood him, there would be no fear.” 

Missy feels this in her chest--the aching, the truth in her sister’s voice. Dana is as close to crying as she ever gets. Missy strides over, clasps her sister’s hands in hers. “You don’t have to be scared.” She pulls her little sister in, squeezes her heart to Dana’s own. “He loves you. And I’m not talking about in a romantic way--I don’t know, maybe--but just in general. He loves you, and he would never hurt you.”

Scully’s eyes are glassy with tears now, but Melissa cannot see this in the midst of their hug. “Haven’t you ever been hurt by someone who loves you?” She says into Missy’s ear. “We never mean it, but it happens. It happens all the time.”

“And then you apologize, and you go on. Being hurt once doesn’t mean being hurt forever.”

“It can.” Scully pulls away, wipes her cheeks before her sister can overanalyze. 

“It won’t, not with Mulder. I know enough about him to know that.” She brushes her sister’s hair out of her face. “If anyone was going to cut off the relationship, it would be you.”

“Wha--” Scully gives up the protest. She is partial to burning bridges that are prone to collapse, a last-ditch attempt at dignity. Yet Mulder doesn’t strike her as a bridge that would burn even if she set it aflame. Maybe that’s worse though, it prolongs the struggle.

“Hurting him would be worse than getting hurt,” Scully mutters. 

“Loving him would be better than not loving him,” Melissa responds.

“The correct phrasing of that argument is ‘loving him would be better than being loved,’ if you wanted to copy my logic.” Scully gets curt and analytical when she’s annoyed. 

“Hmm, well, consider that too.”

Their eyes meet and Scully can tell that neither one of them is going to win. “I’ve got to call him before it gets too late.” They both know who he is. She turns on her heels and heads for her room. 

--------

He didn’t pick up the first time she called, which scared her more than she’s willing to admit. She sat cross-legged on her bed until the phone rang again about twenty minutes later, until she heard his voice on the other line.

“Hey Scully, sorry, I was out wrapping up the case.”

“Wrapping up?” She doesn’t even bother to say hello. “It’s over?”

“Open and shut...or, err, something like that.”

“What happened?” Her voice strains for no reason. She clears her throat.

“I’ll catch you up some other time,” he says breezily. “How’s Melissa doing?”

For a moment, Scully forgets her lie and tries to figure out why he’s asking about her sister and not her. Then--”Oh! She’s okay, yeah, it was a sprain like we suspected. Nothing broken on the x-ray. She can just about walk normally now, I think she’ll be off crutches by tomorrow.” Embellish, embellish, embellish. Missy had taught her to lie in the 6th grade, and she finally had some use for that knowledge.

“That’s great! I’m flying back tomorrow morning, I can be at the office by 10 if you wanna meet me there.” 

“Will you tell me about the case? And BJ? How is she?”

“I’ll...I’ll tell you that tomorrow, Scully.” There’s a bit of gravel in his voice, which Scully has noticed comes out when he’s tired or holding back. 

“Fine. Should I assume that by 10, you mean 10:30?”

“Well, you know how the line at the Dulles Chick-fil-A gets,” he wisecracks.

Something goes wrong between her brain and her tongue as she goes to wrap up the conversation. “Alright, 10:30. Love you, bye.”

Mulder makes a noise like a stifled laugh or a cough that couldn’t be held in. “What was that, Scully?”

Her face is flushed, and she’s thankful he can’t see it. “Sorry, I’ve been talking to Missy on the phone a lot lately. Habit.” The voice flowing out of her sounds calm and collected, like that was just an honest mistake. In a way it was...a much too honest one that has made her anything but calm.

“Oh, is that who you say that to?” he teases. 

She laughs. Surely he couldn’t think there’s anyone else, could he? 

“Just Missy, and maybe my mom.” She says it like a promise. He hears it like a prayer. Unusual, for both of them.

“Bye, Mulder,” she says, ushering any sentimentality away. 

“Bye, Scully. Hate you. Oh, sorry--that’s what I say to my dad on the phone.”

Scully giggles into the phone. She’s still giggling as she sets the phone back on the hook.

Even after the call flat-lines, Mulder holds the phone against his ear like it’s a seashell echoing Scully’s giggle back to him.

[writersrealmbts]

Protect Them: Delicate

Description: Safe with Me Sequel! Hoseok x Reader. Life can be so delicate.

Posted: 05/23/2020

Tags: Hybrid!au, hybrid!Hoseok, Safe With Me Sequel

Words: 1,521

A/N: Didn’t exactly plan this, but I figured someone might ask for it eventually.

“Y/n? Y/n, baby, wake up, I need you to wake up. Our baby needs you to wake up.”

You barely managed to pry your eyes open, feeling like you got hit by a truck. No, like you did after the tornado. But worse.

“There, come on, wake up. Please, y/n. Please,” Hobi’s voice was desperate as he pleaded with you to keep waking up.

You frowned a little in confusion. You were in pain. A lot of pain.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” He said more urgently.

You did, finally looking at him, but he was out of focus. “What’s going on?” You slurred.

“You had a seizure. Also, the baby came early and you need to stay awake. Just stay with me, and keep talking to me.”

“I don’t feel like I’m having a baby,” You said, feeling confused.

Hoseok offered you a smile, but you were starting to notice how pale and sweaty he was. His eyes red. “You already had it, baby. They had to do a c-section. But I need you to stay awake.”

“I couldn’t have had it, it’s not time yet.”

Hoseok let out a choked sound. “I know. I know it’s not time yet.”

Alarm started to keep you awake, but it was a struggle. “Where’s my baby? Hobi, what’s happening?”

“You had a seizure, a really bad one, and they had to do a c-section for both of your safety. He’s being taken care of, y/n. We’ll go see him together when you’re stronger,” He sobbed. “I’ll go see him when you’re stable.”

“Hobi…” You whispered, tears filling your eyes.

He wiped them, and you noticed how badly his hands were trembling. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

“I’m here,” You said.

“Stay here,” He answered, pressing his forehead to yours. “Stay here this time.”

“I will,” You whispered.

You didn’t.

You woke up again, feeling groggy and unclear and like you’d just had to worst sleep in your life.

Hoseok was asleep in the chair beside your bed. Your stomach hurt. Your chest hurt. Your head felt like someone had turned on a static-y channel and turned the volume up all the way.

“Y/n? You’re awake?”

You turned toward the soft voice, recognizing Jin after a moment. “What happened? I was at home, making lunch.”

“You had a seizure, and it pushed you into early labor. They took you for an emergency c-section, but they had a lot of trouble keeping you alive,” Jin explained softly, helping you to take a couple ice chips. “Your son is fine, he’s in the NICU. They let Emma up and she’s been checking on him as often as possible. Hoseok has been up there as much as he could ever since you stabilized and we made him rest to recover from his panic.”

You let the ice melt in your mouth while your brain made sense of it all. A vague memory of a panic-ridden Hoseok begging you to stay formed fuzzily in your head.

“Y/n?”

“Sorry, I heard, just…processing is a little slow,” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“I better wake Hoseok, give you two time. He’ll definitely cry, though, just a warning.”

“I can handle tears,” You replied, turning your head to watch him gently wake Hoseok.

Heart breaking at the panic that seemed to wake Hoseok completely.

“What?! What happened? Are they okay?” He immediately looked at your heart monitor and then Jin.

Jin placed his hands on his shoulders, carefully turning him toward you again.

“My poor Hobi,” You whispered.

His eyes filled and he was suddenly on the bed, holding you so delicately that you thought you might be close to breaking as well. He sobbed wordlessly into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Hobi.”

“Don’t apologize for being alive,” He sobbed back, holding you a little tighter.

“I’m not. I burned lunch.”

He choked, but you could see a smile. “I don’t mind.”

“You do, you hate char on your grilled cheese.”

He was laughing-sobbing now. Sobghing? “I’ll eat it because you made it for me. Oh, yn, he’s the cutest little thing ever.”

“He’s so early, though,” You whispered, worried.

“They said he’s doing really well, they’re impressed. And since Emma just had her baby, she,” He paused to cough and sniff, “She’s been giving them milk for him.”

You nodded, resting your head on his.

“I almost lost you,” He whispered, barely loud enough to hear. “I almost lost you again.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave you.”

He just nodded, quietly crying. Calmly crying. He pushed himself up to hold you more. Your head to his shoulder his arms around you. His lips on your forehead, pressing kisses to your face with words you couldn’t make out. “Rest, baby. Rest and get strong. Please.”

You nodded, getting as comfortable as you could and closing your eyes.

———

“He’s so small,” You whispered, looking at your adorable little one, finally out of his incubator and in your arms where he belonged.

Hoseok’s hand was almost as big as him, resting on your son’s back. “Hello, our little one,” He whispered, sounding like he might cry from the joy of it. “We’re gonna break him.”

You laughed softly, but were choking up. He was so, so fragile. “We still need to name him.”

He laughed as well, pressing closer to look at your baby. “I can’t think of any.”

You smiled. “Finally gave up on Huimang?”

He hummed. “He doesn’t feel like a Huimang.”

“I was thinking Hyunseok, Hyunshik, Inseok, or maybe Hyeonjun?”

He smiled. “I like Inseok.”

You smiled. “Inseok it is. Can you get the birth certificate?”

“Mmm, later.” He pulled you closer, thumb gently rubbing your son’s cheek. “Oh. Can you take a picture for us?”

The nurse nodded, taking Hoseok’s phone, and taking the picture.

Hoseok grabbed the birth certificate since he’d moved anyway, filling it out for the two of you. Then he picked up his phone, quickly coming back to your side while he sent the picture to the family chat with the message, “Held Inseok for the first time today”.

His family had been amazing, taking care of you two (which often meant staying with you while dragging Hoseok to the nearest home to shower and nap in a real bed. Taehyung was especially good at dragging Hoseok away, mostly because Hobi was still in the mindset of “I don’t see you as often as I should” instead of “you live half an hour away from me and I can see you as often as I like) and making sure you had everything you needed. It helped that Emma was also still in the hospital that first week (the doctors had concerns about their daughter’s heart and Emma had been having some blood pressure issues), and she’d let you hold her baby when you got too sad about not being able to hold your own.

They’d backed off a bit now that you were getting healthier (and because Emma and their daughter, Hana, were home now) and mostly just brought you food and other comfort items. They also were always asking if they could help in any way, and when they’d be able to see the baby in person (but in a kind way, not in a pushy way).

Tae had been going to your house and keeping your plants alive and finishing the nursery for you guys. He’d done a nice mural in there that you were really happy with even though it hadn’t been planned.

“Look at his little tail,” Hoseok gushed in whisper as your baby’s tail moved a little. “And his little ears!”

You laughed softly, then pressed a very gentle kiss to the top of your baby’s head. “He’s perfect. I just wish I could have carried him to term.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “They said we might want to consider adopting if we want more kids. It’s too dangerous for you. I’ve heard about some really good places we could adopt from.”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “Okay.”

He kissed your forehead. “And for now, we have our perfect little cub.”

“Beyond perfect. He’s so perfect,” You whispered, closing your eyes and focusing on the little body laying on your chest. “How did we make something so perfect?”

He laughed breathily, then pressed a kiss to your lips, followed by a kiss to the top of Inseok’s head and the tips of his cute little fox ears. “Because he’s the product of True Love, the most powerful thing in all the realms.”

“Your TV privileges have been revoked with that,” You teased, but you were smiling. “I love you so much, Hoseok.”

He met your gaze, so serious and sincere. “I love you more.”

You let him win with that, especially since you’d found out that your heart stopped twice. “I stayed for you.”

He nodded, pressing his forehead to yours, and holding you like you were fragile and precious. “I’ll always stay with you.”

—

Previous  

Masterlist  Series Masterpost

Tagging: @jiminslye @musicandmusing @it-is-dana @kimmie113080 @bluebirdphantom​ @ephemeral-mindset​ @young-yellkie​ @alex–awesome–22​ @bryvada​ @knjhe @missmoxxiesworld​ @i-dont-even-know-fck​

[scullysexual]

And Agent Mulder Became Fox

I know what I said about posting two fics at once but also sometimes you watch episodes with people and you get ideas. This came from watching Ascension with my fellow beans yesterday but we noticed how Mulder was Agent Mulder in this episode and Fox in One Breath and I thought I’d write a fic about it. Also @baronessblixen came up with the headcanon that Maggie fed Mulder so I borrowed that and put it in the fic.

Gonna tag literally all my rewatch friends @tinglingworld @mypanicface @foxscully @impulsive-astrophile @ariverofsongs @agirlcallednarelle @knowleitall-super-soldier @baronessblixen and also @today-in-fic

- - - 

He has no idea how often Scully would go around to her mother’s. There was the odd phone call in the office or on the road but the first time Mulder had ever met Mrs Scully in person was when her daughter was missing.

(and wow, what a meeting that was, showing up with Dana’s blood on his fingertips)

“Have you eaten?” Mrs Scully asks.

He’s sat on the worn couch, surrounded by wallpaper that has a floral pattern, and photographs of the various Scully children- two boys, two girls.

Mulder shrugs in answer to the older woman’s question.

In truth, he hasn’t, not really. Coffee, the odd bagel. Time spent not looking for Scully, not thinking about Scully was time wasted.

“I’ll make you something,” she says smiling and exiting the room.

It became a thing after that. Every weekend Mulder would make the drive to Mrs Scully’s, she would make him dinner and they would talk.

About Scully most times. Stories of when she was younger, of telling them she was going to be a nurse originally and then nurse paved way for doctor when somebody told her that nurse was a female profession and a doctor male- she wanted to smash that stereotype and prove them wrong. Mulder smiles at that, expecting nothing less.

He learned about Scully through her mother, through the photographs on the walls and mantel pieces, a timeline of her life from baby to adult. Maybe he was intruding, if Scully had wanted him to know about this stuff she would have told him herself.

But Scully- Dana- was very closed off, he began to learn. Even as a child she kept things to herself, never trusted anyone enough to carry those thoughts and feelings closest to her. Only her father had ever got that near and he had almost ruined it by not agreeing with her decision to join the FBI.

Their conversations sometimes where about Mulder and his life and family. He kept it short, not divulging too much information at once because this woman had the perfect life and perfect children, how could she ever understand someone so imperfect?

“Fox,” she says. There a month into this arraignment and it’s the first time she’s called him by his name. Agent Mulder is how she referred to him, Fox is so alien yet so soothing emitting from her mouth, the same way it is when Dana called him that.

So he doesn’t go off on his usual mantra, no ‘Please, call me Mulder’, it is simply a look.

“No, I was just sounding it out,” she says. “It’s…unusual.”

Maybe she sees him tense, prepares himself for the ridicule that has often accompanied his name- the teasing in school, Oxford professors and higher agents of the Bureau telling him he’ll never get far with a name like Fox.

“I wish I had the courage to name my children something like that.”

Mulder looks to the photographs on top of the fire. Three out of four first names he doesn’t know.

Maybe what you called them was for the best, he thinks.

“I’m still having that dream.”

His attention to brought back to Mrs Scully and how she looks at him with hope in her eyes. What was it that he said to her? It’s probably scarier when you stop having the dream. Don’t you think?

“That’s good,” he says looking out of the window. It’s dark out now, where did the time go? He looks up and he can see the stars. Ascending…ascending to the stars.

“It means she’s still out there.”

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate?

Chapters 1 and 2 available on AO3 Do You Believe In Fate (2750 words) by Samwritess

Posting both chapters 1 and 2 together here! Hoping to make this a longer series with tons of fun prompts and cute fluff!

Words: 4k

Rating: T for now

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, um, I think I have your pants”

“Excuse me”

“I’m sorry that came out wrong…”

“Who is this?”

“Um, sorry, this is Fox Mulder, I live in the Guardian apartment complex on Columbia St. I think I keep getting your mail”

“Oh. Are you in apartment 52? I used to live there.”

“Yes. That makes sense, actually, but um I’ve gotten some letters and today I got a package with some pants”

“You opened my mail?”

“I only opened it because I thought the shipping information would have a phone number.”

“I see. You know you probably could have looked me up before you rifled through my Loft purchases”

“Didn’t think of that. Anyway, I have your pants.”

“Thank you for letting me know. Are you planning on returning them or are you also a size 0?”

“No, no right, I’m sorry. Where would you like me to meet you?”

“I’m actually in D.C to pick up some supplies from my office on Tuesday. Would the coffee place on the corner of 11th work?”

“Yea that’s perfect actually. What time?”

“Let’s say noon?”

“Great. I’ll see you then Fox”

“See you then Dana”

He knew it was her before she even walked into the shop. He saw a glimpse of red hair about a block down and got to spend the entire block watching her small figure push through the pedestrians on the sidewalk and he felt like he knew her in seconds. She was wearing probably exactly the same pants he had in the box sitting next to him. Probably ordered them as backups for her backups. Navy goes with everything. She walked with her head down, and even with her small frame she seemed to get people to move out of her way with no effort. Dana Scully was a no fuss, no frills, independent woman. And god damn if that wasn’t his kind of woman.

When he figured out she had lived in his apartment, he knocked on the door next to him to get the inside scoop. The gunmen had lived in the apartment for a few years longer than he had, so maybe they had seen this woman around before. It took three seconds after he mentioned her name for Frohike to start gushing about her. “She’s got these blue eyes that stare right into your soul Mulder, red hair like fire, and God her voice...” he hadn’t shut up about her until Langley interrupted. It seems like Frohike’s adoration was more of the ‘we met in the laundry room once and I think I’m in love with her’ type. And with Frohike, you never really know if the woman will live up to his fantastical expectations. Apparently the last they saw of her was about two months before he moved in she packed up and left in quite the hurry. “God we were disappointed when you moved in after she moved out”. So far she fit the description.

She walked in the shop and before the twinkling of the bells had ceased to announce her presence she had spotted him and begun her march over to his table.

“How did you know it was me?” he smirked as she came to a halt next to his little table in the corner.

“How many other people sit in a coffee shop with a week's worth of letters and a Loft package?”

She takes off her sunglasses and he gets to take in all of her face for the first time and it almost knocks the wind out of him. Those blue eyes looked right through him. He had to tell Frohike he was right later. She wrinkled her brow when he spent too long staring so he started to shove the package in her face before she thought he was too much a creep.

“Can I buy you some coffee?” he tried to stand but it was awkward and he got way too close to her as he clamored his way up. He could smell her perfume and he swore he would never forget it. She stepped back.

“It’s no problem. I should be going anyway.” She started to back away from him and he felt a little piece of him move with her.

“No please I insist” He reached out to her and she backed up again, fumbling with the packages she was now holding. “At least let me help bring the packages to your car”  

She huffed and shifted to packages again, clearly fully capable of carrying them back herself.

“Listen, Fox. I’ve got an office to drag back to Annapolis and I really don't need your help. What I do need is to get going” She turned and walked back out of the shop and someone must have slipped something into his coffee that morning because he found himself slipping through the door behind her, abandoning his half finished decaf in the bin on the way out.

Maybe it was because Mulder had never felt as much connection as when she looked at him with those baby blue eyes. He had been with more women than he cared to admit, been in love with a fair few, but Miss Dana Scully with her navy blue Loft pants that she probably owned six pairs of had stolen his heart entirely. He felt this infatuation overtake him and every cell in him was screaming not to let her go. So he followed her out onto the busy street and walked next to her as she practically sprinted through the afternoon foot traffic.

“Why are you following me?” She huffed as she tried picking up the pace, but his long legs easily kept up with her tiny strides.

“Do you believe in fate Dana?” She turned to look at him as if he had grown a second head, and at that moment a passerby jostled her shoulder, causing her to trip forward, losing her balance and crossing her feet over, bumping right into his side. He grabbed her elbow to steady her and for the second time met those ice blue eyes. He thought time stood still. If the hard corner of the cardboard package hadn't been poking him in the ribs it would have been the most romantic moment of his life. Fuck, it was still the most romantic moment of his life, with her breathing heavy and the two of them staring at each other on a crowded sidewalk, pressed together by circumstance and fate.

“Logically I’d have to say no.” She breathed out, but the blush on her cheeks told him he wasn’t the only one who felt this.

It took another shoulder to hers from an old woman with an umbrella and too much perfume to knock her back into herself. She stepped back from him clutching the package into her chest like it was Kevlar.

“I have to go. Please don't follow me again.” He watched as she walked away into the crowd, her red hair enveloped into the mob of civilians like a balloon into the sky. Never to come back.

I’ll see her again, he thought. I have to.

---

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, it's me again.”

“What do you want?”

“You got another package. I didn't open it this time”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“When would you like me to return it? I don’t know if you’ll be in town any time soon…”

“I have a friend’s wedding in a week on Tuesday in Alexandria. I can pick it up then.”

“Ok sure I should be home. What time should I expect you?”

“I’ll probably come earlier in the morning on my way to the ceremony if that's alright”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

---

He was sweating. This isn’t even a date and he was practically sweating through his shirt at the idea of Dana Scully showing up at his apartment door. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind and he’d seen her for maybe 20 minutes tops. He had come home that day and pounded a beer like his life depended on it. The gunmen called his apartment not long after to check on him because apparently Frohike thought “he might have suffered a stroke when he saw her”. He walked into their apartment and was handed a glass of whiskey and an invitation to spill it all about the girl he was now undoubtedly infatuated with. Maybe it was love or maybe just obsession but he was stuck with the image of only her in his head. And she was going to be at his door any minute forcing him to have to look into those beautiful eyes and not have an absolute breakdown.

He was busy deciding between continuing to stare at the clock waiting for her arrival and calling her again when the wrap of knuckles on his door sounded through the apartment. He sprinted to the door, took a second to compose himself and opened it to greet his fate.

“Wow”

She was in a little navy dress that hugged her hips and cut deep down her chest, revealing freckled collarbones to match freckled knees. Was it bad that those knees almost brought him to his? Of course Miss Dana Scully didn't wear little black dresses. She had a little navy dress that matched all of her navy pants and was just as sexy and somehow even more alluring. His eyes followed her freckles from her clavicle to her shoulder and up her neck like connect-the-dots and yet again he looked into the eyes of an angle, noting how the deep blue of her dress made them look even more piercing. She broke his gaze to stare down at herself with an embarrassed blush and smooth the front of her dress.

“Come in. Please.” He stepped aside and her strappy heels clicked into his apartment. He fought every brain cell telling him to drink in her figure from behind. He was a selfish bastard but later tonight he’ll remember her walking through his door in that little navy dress and dream that it was just for him, not for some high-school friend’s wedding 20 minutes away in Alexandria.  

“So…” She took a careful look at the room and he suddenly remembered she used to live here. She touched the counter top like she was familiar with the dust that had settled there. Something in her eyes looked almost sad, like she was reconnecting with an old friend. “I like what you've done with the place.”

“Thanks. It’s a great apartment. I was lucky to get it.” She grimaced and it dawned on him why he happened to be so lucky, her having moved out halfway through her lease with the landlord practically begging him to pick it up. He shoved his hands in his pockets like maybe that would stop him from saying something stupid. She hummed and looked up at him expectantly.

“Oh right. Package.” He almost forgot why she was actually in his apartment.

He heard her chuckle as he walked into the kitchen to grab the box from behind the counter. It was significantly heavier than the last time. If it was clothes it was some diamond studded platform boots by the weight of it. He found her staring at the fish when he returned.

“This is heavy. You want my help with taking it down to your car?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Actually, under normal circumstances I would say I can handle it, but these heels aren’t exactly made for transporting boxes of baby food.” She laughed again and he tried to hide his shocked expression.

“Baby food?” She recognized his confused gaze and explained.

“It’s for my sister. She likes to order her baby food in bulk because apparently they don’t sell it in non-organic grocery stores. She must have used my account by accident and they sent it here.”

He really was a lucky son of a bitch.

He gestured towards the door and she walked first, him following her with the package in his arms. They boarded the elevator together and it was just goddamn unfair how those heels made her the perfect height so that if he glanced over he could see straight down that little navy dress of hers. Unfair.

She clicked her way off the elevator and dutifully he followed her to the parking deck. She popped her trunk open and he plopped the case of organic baby food in.

“Well, I think I finally changed all my accounts to my new address, so hopefully this problem gets solved” She must have seen his face fall because she blushed again. “Thank you for all your help Fox.”

“Mulder. I even made my parents call me Mulder. Hated my first name. Hope that's not too strange” He doesn’t know why he was telling her, if she was going to exit his life after today. Maybe the dress had truth-inducing powers.

“Mulder.” She tasted his name like a cherry on top of a sunday, the way that would leave a red stain on her lips like the lipstick she had on now. The way that dress was cut made him think that she was the kind of girl that could secretly tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. “It’s certainly not weird. Being a doctor I get called Scully most hours of the day.”

Dr. Dana Scully . It fit her perfectly.

“Well Dr. Scully, Dr. Mulder is always ready to be your personal mailman.” Her eyebrow quirked up, obviously impressed with the title.

“M.D?” she questioned like a judge running a trial.

“PhD in Psychology. Oxford University.” He stood up a little taller. She smirked.

“Impressive. Although I would be careful calling yourself a doctor unless you can complete a surgery with a Myers-Brigs test” Her eyes lit up when she challenged him. He was more than willing to submit to her.

“Nah I’ll leave the surgeries to your…” He grabbed her wrist and her eyes widened, “capable hands”. If pedestrians were not there to bump them together, he figured fate wouldn’t mind if he gave it a helping hand. The energy between them was palpable.  

Psychology may not complete surgeries, but it did give him the ability to peg Dr. Dana Scully down to a tee. If he had to guess, she went to undergrad somewhere close to home, but went far away for medical school, probably the best school she could get into. She gets the buttoned up look and her quick pace from a military background, probably her father. A gold cross like the moon in a sky of stars on her chest said she was religious, likely from childhood. But that low-cut dress and strappy heels made him think there were many many layers under the stiff exterior.

“Where did you go to school?” he released her hand and tried to inhale without giving away the fact that he’d barely taken a breath while she was in his grip.

“University of Maryland for my bachelors, then Stanford for medical school. Impressed?”

She licked her lips and he wanted to peel back every layer of her, including that tantalizing dress of hers.

“Very.”

“Well Dr. Mulder, I need to head to the ceremony.” It was goodbye again and he hated every second of it. Now or never.  

“Listen, Dr. Scully . If you're ever in D.C again, you should give me a call. I would really like to take you to dinner some time.”

He wanted to bottle the grin she shot back at him. The color of her blush should be sold on every makeup counter because it was the perfect shade. Everything about her made him fall harder and faster.

“I just might take you up on that. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to some of the good restaurants around here.”

“I’ll take you to your favorite” He’d take her to a dumpster behind a pizzeria if that's what she wanted. Just to get to see her again.

Her phone rang and she answered, a voice through the phone likely asking her where she was, as she responded with “I’m just leaving, I’ll be there in 20.” She sighed and hung up, then looked back up at him again with a small smile.

“Enjoy your wedding.”

“I will. Goodbye Mulder.”

“Bye Scully.”

He walked on air back to his apartment.

[the-devil-herself]

Never Enough - Chapter 3

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3 DESCRIPTION: Certain mates of Jotuns receive soulmate marks on their bodies. What happens when Loki’s mark is found on a girl with immense power? RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also available on AO3! The link is here as requested.  Please give me some feedback if you can, I love the inspiration it gives me. Also let me know if you want to be tagged! I’m going to post the first 22 chapters of this story over the next few days, and, hopefully, I will find my muse to write more.

TAGGED: @kneel-before-queen-loki @lokis-girl-in-mischief

The compound was in an uproar the next few months getting ready for Loki’s arrival. Tony was more stressed than ever, and it was getting on all our nerves. New and weird tech was being placed into a spare room almost every week. When asked about it, Tony said it was for “safety,” but I knew he was making a cage- one strong enough to hold a god.

Tony wasn’t the only one freaking out over the situation, though. Clint had been hiding himself in his rooms for days at a time, only coming out when Nat dragged him out. He never ate with us anymore or joined in on movie nights. Nat tried everything she could to get through to him, but he wasn’t budging. Bruce and Steve were also on edge, but they seemed to handle themselves pretty well. Bruce spent a lot of the time in his lab because he wanted to try and make some relaxing pills to calm him down if Loki should ever step out of line.

Thor had left the day after the meeting to prepare everything in Asgard, which just left me. I honestly didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Tony didn’t put me on any special assignments or ask me to help with preparations, so I felt bored and lonely. I spent most of my days either in the library or back in my room, thought I much preferred the library so I did not have to think.

When I did think, though, my mind ended up spinning in so many circles that I would have to down a few drinks before finally shutting it off.

Loki was coming.

The man in my head. He’s been with me for seven years, and I was finally going to meet him… look at him face-to-face. The last time I had come close to looking in his eyes was when he sent the Destroyer. What would he be like? Would he be as evil as they say? Will he even remember me?

Will he remember me? That was seriously on my mind right now! Out of all the shit I had to worry about, THAT was what was keeping me up at night. His eyes, how they would look at me when seeing me for the first time. How he would perceive me. Thor had said that I reminded him of Loki, but would our personalities align, or would he think I was just another foolish mortal?

The night before the Asgardians arrived, I stayed up all night trying to drown these thoughts out of my head. I kept imagining him, his voice, his eyes. Those green piercing eyes.

Snap out of it, loser. My mind was running on caffeine and alcohol, so I decided to drink some water and cool my head. I went outside into the yard for some fresh air and a moment of clarity. Downing the last of my water, I sat on the porch and closed my eyes. I wanted to feel the cool air just hit me.

“Everything okay?” a voice asked behind me. I jumped. I opened my fists before I realized it was Steve, then settled back down again.

“Jesus Christ, Steve you scared the shit out of me!”

He laughed at that before joining me and sitting beside me. “Sorry about that,” he blushed. “I just noticed you came out here, and since it’s the middle of the night, I figured something might be up.”

“I’m alright, just too much caffeine today, I think.”

I knew he didn’t buy it, but, thankfully, he didn’t push any further. “Tomorrow’s a big day. A lot of things are going to change around here. We’ll all have to be on guard for a bit.”

“Most likely, but we’re doing the right thing. We need this, and he needs it. The way Thor used to talk about him, it just didn’t seem like something he would do. Now we know. It wasn’t him at all, but Thor says he’s still hanging on to a darkness.”

Steve nodded at my ramble, considering it thoughtfully. “You’re right, we do need it. Thor definitely needs it. Maybe we can leave New York behind us once we see Loki again and get closure, especially for Clint.

“It’ll take a while for Clint to get any type of closure,” I muttered, not looking at Steve. “I don’t blame him.”

“Are you nervous to see him?”

I let out a laugh. It was nervous and scared, and Steve could tell. “I…,” I stammered, “I guess I am. More than I thought I would be, actually. I guess it’s just that… well it’s all uncertain. I don’t know what to expect from him or myself. I mean I only saw him in machine form and on TV. I don’t even know what I’ll say.”

“Dana don’t worry,” Steve assured me, “everything will be fine. He won’t do anything without having to go through us first. If he’s as smart as we think, he’ll keep to himself and stay low.”

Possibly. I smiled at Steve before saying goodnight and heading back to bed. Everything would be different tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to loud banging and angry conversations. I hurried out of my room to find out what happened. Surely, Loki hasn’t come yet. Instead, Tony and Bruce were in the kitchen yelling at the last-minute workmen who came early to install the last of the “safety” devices.

I crossed my arms at the scene. “Really Tony? We have to protect the kitchen from him too?”

Tony was surprised to see me up at this time, but with his loud installations and yelling, there was almost a guarantee I would be up now. “Sorry kiddo, we’ll be done soon.” Rolling my eyes, I left to prepare myself for the day. I put on a casual black dress since it was a hot day today, but also because I wanted to feel comfortable. Having pit stains showing on my shirt would not be ideal.

After a few agonizing hours of Tony’s stress and micromanagement, Thor had arrived. We heard the loud rumble of the Bifrost outside our living room. The team looked at each other, no one moving to go meet them outside. We stood there, on edge, for a few minutes before the door opened, and Thor walked in with his brother behind him.

Steve was the first to greet them. I turned to face them and saw Thor in all his fancy armor. Loki was in his too, hands bound by thick handcuffs that I assumed were magical. He didn’t have the muzzle over his mouth as he did in New York, but his lips were closed shut as he didn’t say a word. His eyes were cold, glaring at everyone who came near him.

Clint kept his distance, never saying hello or stepping in Loki’s direction. His eyes were piercing into Loki, analyzing every movement, searching for danger. His muscles were tensed, and his breathing was a bit too fast.

“Dana!”

Thor snapped me out of my thoughts. He was motioning for me to come welcome him, but I couldn’t move. Loki was looking at me.

Steve took my hand and brought me over to Thor. I hugged him tightly, like I always do, but I was shaking. This was scarier than what I imagined. I felt Loki’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t move or let go of Thor. I had never felt so weak.

When I finally did let go, I backed up and turned to Loki. “Welcome back,” I uttered, too quietly.

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smirk. He continued to stare at me, causing my nerves to shoot off anxiety, so I looked down to the floor. Maybe he’d stop soon and turn his attention elsewhere. But the room was quiet, and everyone was watching him- watching me.

Loki finally spoke. “Nice to see you again, little one.”

[starbuck09256]

ooh prompt 111 please!!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @ruindil

“You can’t just hug me and think everything is going to be okay”

Triangle Post Ep

The parking lot is bleak at 9pm on a Friday night. The rain droplets race down her windshield as the lights from ambulances dance along the darkness. She sits in her car, and has been sitting there for a solid 15 minutes. Playing with her gold cross, running it back and forth across the longer than it was before chain. The chain he replaced for her, after it was broken in Antarctica. She’s here to pick him up and she knows in her heart when she walks in, he will have that goofy grin and the shy smile, he’ll wrap his arms around her and say “Thanks for busting me out Doc,” like he normally does. But for some reason she can’t get herself to move, to open the door and step out into the night. To be his knight in shining armor, after he played damsel in distress by chasing after a ship not quite a century old. She wonders about what he said in the hospital, has been thinking about it for the last 24 hours nonstop. She’s barely slept, each time she closes her eyes, her lips tingle and her dreams are of red dresses and Skinner dressed as a Nazi. It’s not ok, this constant ditching her. She thought they were more than that now. They don’t have the x-files to fall back on. They need to behave, tread lightly if they ever hope to see the cold damp basement again. He easily could have died this time, she would've never found him. Never seen his body floating on a piece of wood, dragging his sorry ass on board and whispering how she had him. She breathes in a deep breath to calm her emotions as she wipes a stray tear from her eyes.  She can blame anything he thinks he sees in her eyes on the rain outside. “I love you,” he said it, said it to her finally after a delusional rambling. “You saved the world,” she thinks of the countless times he has saved her world. Saved her from the darkness that has found them. She bites her lip prepares herself to feel his chest against her, smell his aftershave that she dropped off yesterday. She knows what is in store she can already hear the tremble of his voice as it resonates in her ears and then after she drives him home, after she helps him get undressed and ready for bed, after she touches his skin, chuckles at his jokes, marvels at the strength and determination of the man she is so desperately in love with.  She will need to have the strength to get in her car and remember the sound of his voice when he finally said he loved her. She just has to make it through the next hour then she can go home and rationalize away the feelings they both have been sharing too much of. She can do this, not let her guard slip as she helps him yet again,  praying that she has the strength should he mention his love again to not do anything stupid. Don’t tell him what you feel Dana. Just scold him like the man child he is. She can do this, has done it for years. That was before though, before she realized he went to the ends of the earth for her with a gunshot wound to the head. Before he confessed so much to her in his hallway. Before he went and did something so stupid, knowing she would find him, save him, and save the world. Before he pulled her back into his trap and gazed into her soul with three little words almost crumbling the remaining shred of professionalism she could have with him. 

Deep Breath

Breathe Dana

One hour, be strong. Get out of the car. Pull your jacket close but still let some rain hit your face and hair and for god's sake do not tell Mulder you love him too. 

He probably doesn’t remember, that’s why you said oh brother remember. 

Hold Strong.

She steps out the rain light and airy in the cool evening. She lets it hit her face, cleanser her a bit before she starts to race across the parking lot towards the hospital entrance. Her heels click lightly as she reaches the automatic doors. The warm air and smell of antiseptic reach her nostrils. She clicks through the hallways. Advantages of being with the FBI and a medical doctor means not a lot of people asking you silly questions. 

His room up on the right, she looks through the glass window in the door. His back to her as she sees him putting on his shirt. The long lines of his back covered by his white undershirt. The crisp blue shirt that she picked up just in case he took a little longer to get out of the hospital and they had to make a mad dash to an opr meeting about his misadventure on the bureaus dime. Being prepared for Kershs wrath has taught them a few new skills. 

She knocks lightly shuffling her feet as she feels the door open. She smiles up at him and starts to walk forward but before she knows what is happening his arms are around her. God he is so warm, so strong, and she fits so perfectly. He hugs her, wraps her up like his own personal christmas present, and while normally she does relish this feeling, lives in part for these moments where it can be just them, violating all the rules of professional conduct, now is not the time. He knows what his hugs do to her, knows they are a not so secret weakness. “Hi Scully,” he says but doesn’t let her go, his fingers gently caress her back and she knows she needs to stop this. She starts to pull away, pulling herself together at the same time. But he doesn’t let her, he pulls her back closer mutters into her ear. “I’m sorry,” but she does pull away. I’m sorry doesn’t really cut it, after making her freak out searching high and low for him. Practically begging that rat bastard Spender to help her, and Kersh. She kissed Skinner for christ sakes, all to find his stupid ass floating lifelessly in the water. She remembers how her heart stopped, how all her fear wanted to pour out of her soul when they lifted him out of the cold water. 

She pulls back and her words come out before she has a chance to stop them. “You can’t just hug me and think everything is going to be ok. Everything is not ok Mulder.” her voice shutters towards the end and she turns her head, pursues her lips to gain some control. She expected the “I’m sorry,” he knows how to play her emotions, using those profiler skills in ways that test her patience and her rational mind. 

He steps back pulls her gently out of the door frame and into the hospital room, still slightly aglow with a dimmed lamp in the corner. He cups her face, cradling it in his hands. She swallows hard, tries not to meet his eyes for a second. He strokes her cheeks with his thumbs and it feels so nice. He kisses her forehead, and then rests his forehead against hers as she takes a shuttered breath. He pulls back gives her a sad smile. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t tell you.” She looks at him sternly. She nods her head and starts to turn to grab his bag that is sitting on the chair, so she can drive him home and go home to her soft bed. He turns her back towards him. She looks at him, he’s not forgiven and he knows it. But his eyes are soft, the flecks of gold are shining through even with the soft light of the room. “I love you,” he says it again looking her straight in the eye and she can’t help but gasp and he wraps his arms around her again. She is shocked as he nuzzles her hair with his nose. “I love you so damn much Scully,” she rubs his back closes her eyes and licks her lips. “They really drugged you up good huh?” she says trying to lighten the seriousness of the room. He pulls back looks at her. “I kissed you on that ship Scully, and it was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. And sometime soon we are going to find our moment, where I get to kiss you and tell you I love you, and you won’t be so skeptical anymore.”  

She shakes her head laughs at him as she moves towards the chair. “Now I know they gave you the good stuff, me not skeptical…” she grabs his bag in her hand pulling it up to her shoulder, turns to look at him. He chuckles shuffles his feet a bit, he pulls the door open for her with his arm outstretched. She walks in front of him out the door and as he closes it he grabs her hand sliding his fingers against hers intertwining them. He leans towards her ear to whisper. “Real soon Scully, that moment is going to erase all those doubts.” She can’t help but squeeze his hand as she looks straight ahead. “I look forward to it.” She mutters into the fluorescent corridor as they leave. 

[monikafilefan]

A season of marigold and crimson part2

I would post the link to part 1 here, but since I still don’t know how to do that, let’s just hope you can find easily on my blog. But just in case, here’s the ao3 link to part 1.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s pov after she and Mulder argued about her health in the middle of the wilderness.

——

One dead whitetail, an abandoned hunters barn, and any lingering resolution with Mulder was whisked away with the wind. He had told her to go get warm as he took one last look around the barren land and Scully had not hesitated. She dragged herself back to their car—effectively hiding her indignant tears from the one person who wished she wouldn’t—and melted into the passenger seat.

Her exhaustion was evident in the dark circles lining her lower lashes and the ominous hollowing of her cheeks. Emotionally she was just as tired, but even more angry. So very angry that her life was once again tethered by only a fraying rope as she floated off in the distance, and the one person who would sacrifice anything to keep her on solid ground was the one she’d just unintentionally hurt.

This wasn’t fair to him—to them, her frustration in knowing that what she felt for him was so much more than just friendship and respect. This dangerous two-step of wanting more from their partnership and needing to keep their status quo was maddening. Because what would it matter in the end when the time came to say goodbye? He would have to learn to dance without her.

But he didn’t have to do that; not yet. She was still there, still standing by his side, holding him up with her presence as he supported her with a crooked smile and a reassuring palm to her back. Her back, where she had permanently inked his existence under her skin as well as within her heart.

The truth she spoke of under the bone-colored moon was not just that she was dying and Mulder refused to see, but that her soul was swelling with hatred for what a group of men had done to them both in order to protect it.

Staring out into the blackness of a rising winter, she sobbed silently until she saw the catlike silhouette of the man she tried to deny she loved approach the driver side.

If the gust of cold air hadn’t stolen her breath, the sight of Mulder’s red rimmed eyes and dejected expression would have. Her chin quivered and throat clogged with regret.

He tore off his leather gloves and splayed his fingers over the heater. “Warm?”

“Yeah…” Scully knew he consciously chose not to ask if she was okay. And even though she would’ve certainly said she was fine when she was nothing of the sort, she found it hurt deeply that he hadn’t.

A pregnant silence yawned alongside the hum of the heater and Mulder made no attempt to leave. She would make sure his patience with her was well worth the wait.

“I want you to understand something,” she murmured, staring at her fidgeting fingers. “Why I didn’t want to talk about it...”

He shook his head. Those long, dark lashes concealing pain she knew was whirling like a sandstorm in his eyes. “You know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say those things to me?”

“Mulder…”

“No, I don’t blame you. It’s me I blame. And whether you’ve chosen to be my ally and friend freely or not, I can’t help but feel like I’ve placed you in this position—marked you as the perfect target because of my own selfish need.”

The darkness and injustice of it all she’d been at war with since that moment in the hospital when Betsy perished in front of her churned harshly in her gut.

She sighed, feeling her chest constrict with the weight of it all. He didn’t get it, and he never would if she did not willingly cut herself open and expose what lay inside her heart for him to truly see.

A Y-incision of Dana Scully.

“Mulder, you heard what I said but you didn’t listen.” She ran a finger across his now clenched fist and he loosened it, lacing his slender fingers within hers. The tactile comfort they’d so rarely yet so naturally indulged in was something she’d been cherishing more often lately. She learned to hoard these precious moments that meant the most.

“I’ve denied how sick I’ve been for months. Yes, it’s true I have seemingly incurable cancer that stemmed from my abduction over two years ago. And it’s taken me a long time to admit that to myself, even though the evidence was as glaringly as the sun. But Mulder, this didn’t happen to me because of you. I’ve never thought that. Not once.”

“How can—”

“Shh.” She cupped his jaw, stubbled with sparse, chestnut hair and forced the eye contact they both needed.

She felt it then: that familiar electricity singing through her skin where they were entangled in a forever knot, a circle. An ouroboros of their interwoven life.

“I’ve seen death. I’ve analyzed it and cut through pieces of people’s past to uncover the mystery of it. I’ve hovered that line before. I don’t want to die, but it doesn’t scare me,” she told him as she tenderly thumbed his cheek, feeling him stifle a sob. It scared him. Everyday, she knew he was terrified.

“But you know what does scare me, Mulder? What jolts me awake in the middle of the night, what makes my stomach turn and heart ache? His hand gripped hers like an anchor in a raging sea, and her liquid eyes never strayed from his. “Leaving you behind.”

“God, Scully… please don’t say that,” he pled, reaching out to stroke her wind blown hair. It was something tangible to reinforce her presence for him. “You’re here. You’re not going anywhere...”

It was a questioning plea—to her or anyone who would listen, and she could promise him with certainty that he was right. “No, Mulder I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you and this is where I choose to be. I always have.”

Scully allowed him into her inner sanctum of hidden emotions. Embraced his full presence in her heart. And for the first time in a long time, she felt complete. She opened herself up fully for just a moment… and it was freeing.

She may still be heartbroken watching him suffer helplessly at the prospect of losing her. She may be foolishly and wholly in love with him. She may still be creeping closer to the inevitable end of her life. But at least she would not be alone while living it. And neither would he.

“Always, Scully,” he agreed and softly kissed the back of her hand, his hot tears burning down her chilled fingers. “But I’ll find you a cure. I’ll always fight for you because I can’t… I just have to. I’ll do anything it takes. Even if I have to dance with the devil... all the way to Hell.”

——

[sigritandtheelves]

Worth Its Constancy

Rating: M (bordering on explicit?) 

Timeline: Missing Scene from “The Truth” (9x19-20) 

Tags: MSR, Angst, Motel Sex, Missing Scene

Summary: Mulder and Scully have not been alone together for a very long time. What happened when they stopped at their first motel on the way to New Mexico?

Note: This is a stand-alone story (in a possible series of vignettes) exploring moments from the series post-Requiem. Canon, for me, ends after season seven, but there’s a lot that I love and want to explore from the material that came after.

tagging: @today-in-fic

_+_

Their escape was frenetic as they were shoved into an unfamiliar SUV and pointed toward Canada. Mulder’s hard, determined eye did not meet hers as he defied orders—unsurprising—and angled the massive vehicle southward instead.

“Mulder, Kersh told us to go north. You just got on a road going south.”

“That’s right.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see a man about the truth.”

It was late enough that the highway was mostly empty, rather than its usual sea of taillights. The unfamiliar vacancy lent it an alien quality. Scully should have known it would end like this, shooting into the darkness of I-95 in an unmarked car with fake passports and a fistful of someone else’s cash in her pocket. Was that where her compass needle began pointing when she stepped into his office a decade ago?

“Mulder.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched, and refused to meet her eye. He was rigid with tension, surely traumatized by his time in that filthy cell, but forever unwilling to do anything but launch himself deeper, headlong and screaming into the monsters’ lair. Her Mulder, blindly fumbling toward answers with both arms outstretched, heedless of everything else around him.

She’d been here before. She knew now was not the time to push. But she was not untraumatized herself, and she needed, suddenly and desperately, for him to look at her. “Please, Mulder.”

He must have heard the desperation in her voice; his grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly and the sound of his deep inhale lowered the tension inside the car. “We can’t go to Canada, Scully.” He swallowed, and finally turned to look at her. There was a wildness in his eyes that she recognized. A dangerous wildness. Panic took hold in her then, the same terror that had gripped her when Doggett recounted the phone call in her apartment. Mulder had readied himself for death, and was not yet willing to let it go. He looked away.

She forced herself to breathe before speaking. “Can we stop soon?”

A quick furrow of his brow: irritation. “We just got started. You need a break already?”

“No, Mulder, we need a break.” She reached out a hand to his forearm where she could feel the strain of his muscle, his slight flinch when her skin touched his.

“We’re still too close to D.C.”

She nodded. “Okay. Let’s get out of Virginia, and then will you stop?”

His chin bobbed, barely, in acquiescence.

_+_

Sharpsburg, North Carolina 3:57 a.m.

It was a dingy motel like any number of others they’d visited, and they took a room with a rear-facing entrance. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap, all-purpose cleaner. She’d packed both of their bags: practical clothes; a weapon for each of them; a pale blue album with photos of William, half full.

Inside, Mulder dropped his duffel and looked into the bathroom, its overhead fluorescent buzzing to uncertain life. He was calmer now. “I guess the orange jumpsuit stands out a bit.”

She smirked at him, uncomfortable now that they were alone in this sparse room with a single bed that seemed to stare at them expectantly. The air felt dense with tension and with all they needed to say.

“I’m gonna take a shower. It’s been a while.”

Scully nodded and moved to sit on the end of the bed, heart pounding. While he showered, she turned on the TV to distract herself, and found that the rest of the world was still there in all its spectacle-driven stupidity. Slapstick comedies and sappy, unrealistic romances played alongside exaggerated news reports of everyday household dangers. She settled on a Star Trek episode because she found the voices and the sound effects soothing. Mulder would laugh.

Even with the television, the room seemed too quiet.  Scully stared at her fingernails, wondering how she could possibly talk to him in all this silence.

The shower stopped with a clunk of the pipes, and a few minutes later Mulder emerged spiky-haired with a towel around his waist. Her heart thudded in her chest again at the sight of him, not only from nerves, but from the pulse of desire she felt suddenly permitted to feel again.

He noticed her looking and smiled awkwardly. “Forgot my shorts,” he said, turning to dig in his bag. She turned off the TV.

“Mulder, come here for a minute,” she said, voice thick.

He stood up from his rummaging, pair of boxers in hand, and walked over to her. Concern wrinkled his brow for a brief moment until he read what was on her face: a potent combination of anguish and lust.

“You okay, Scully?”

She smiled at him in a way that hurt: her eyes so sad. “You,” she said. She touched his bare chest, let her fingers splay out across his heart. “Mulder, it’s you. You’re here.” Steady thump-thump against her palm; droopy eyes narrowing in concern. That hair, damp and sticking in every direction. Without warning, she was crying, hitching sobs that ached in her chest, even as she found herself wanting him to strip her naked and throw her onto the bed. It was a confusing, overwhelming combination of feeling.

Mulder let the boxers he was holding fall to the floor as he took her in his arms, one hand on her head, the other curled around her hip. She was crying against and kissing his chest at the same time. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” she whispered. “You can’t die again.”

His eyes slammed shut and he grunted as the force of her words jolted against his well-armored defenses. “Dana…” she was melting him. He was afraid to lose his resolve.

“I’ve never wanted your sacrifice, Mulder,” she said. Her mouth moved to his clavicle; small kisses over the bone. His left hand was sliding up under her shirt. “I’ve only ever wanted you.” The wet heat of her tongue, briefly against his neck.

“Ah, Scully,” he said.  His right hand joined the left, unconsciously fumbling to unhook the back clasp of her bra. His sacrifice came easy; letting himself be loved did not. Just as he felt the snick and loosening of the fabric, she pulled back to look him in the eye.

“Please,” she said, both hands moving to cup his jaw, her thumbs caressing his lips, only just. “Please come back to me. Please love me.” Her words: hardly a whisper, eyes still shining with tears.

He was gone, then, his resolve in utter ruins at his feet. He nodded against her hands while his own slipped up, up and around under her bra. She arched toward him.

“I can do that,” he said just before his lips collided with hers in a hot storm.

Their coupling was dark and sweet, a testimony of their separation and longing. He made quick work of her clothes; she even quicker of his towel, and then he was backing her to the bed, hands buried in her hair, swelling her lips with the force of his kiss. Her hands wouldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop touching him, grasping as if for dear life, and then she was pulling him, down down into the sheets and into her.

“Now. Please.”

“Yes.”

Then he was so deep in her she swore she could feel it in her ribs; her hands in his hair, her mouth on his neck, his cheek, and then more kisses, lava-hot while he rocked into her again and again. She rolled them over so she could ride him as his fingers bruised her hips with his desperation, his love. There were tears on his cheeks because his heart hurt for her, for this, and the thought that he’d been ready to give it up. It had been almost two years, two years, since he’d touched her like this, felt her swallow him whole with her body, tasted her nipples, touched the slick-hot center of her. He was not dead. The cold ground would not hold him, could not, while this love was here waiting for him. How stupid he’d been to think he could give this up like some self-righteous ascetic, a martyr. But he couldn’t think about that anymore because she was pulsing around him, hovering over him with sex-wild hair and ravenous eyes. He hadn’t seen her like this since before William and he was mad with it.

“Scullyscullyscully oh god Dana, yes.” They fumbled toward each other in the dim light, grasping in the dark and coming hard in the shadowy humid room, together again at last.

_+_

Afterward, he came apart in her arms like wet tissue. He broke, sobbed against her naked breasts for every moment they’d been held apart, for that brief moment he’d spotted her on a train platform with her heart on her sleeve, for the lies he’d had to tell in that filthy jail cell. For William.

She squeezed him to her, so grateful for his tears.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.  “It’s okay.”

When he had spent all the tears he could, he kissed her sternum and raised his head to meet her eyes. “Scully,” he said.

“I’m here.”  

They were drowning in the intensity of their look, taking gulps of each other with their eyes. His thumb came up to graze her cheekbone, palm to jaw. “I missed you.”

She made that expression that was somehow both a smile and a sob at once. “Oh God, Mulder.” Their fingers entangled, then, on the sheets between them, between their not-quite aligned chests. The pillow was damp under his hair, their noses inches apart. “You have no idea.”

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her again. Slowly, sweetly, they came together a second time, drunk with relief and love in the pre-dawn hour. Afterwards they slept, entwined, for hours.

By noon, they were back on the road heading south, then west. They had to see a man about the truth.

-----

End note: the title comes from P.B. Shelley’s short poem “To the Moon.”

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.

[baronessblixen]

Peppermint pot anon here, I have a new prompt for u: Mulder and Scully play "the pocky game". It's a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss. You could google pocky game for images hehe

Thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you enjoy the story. A post-ep for "Millennium". Tagging @today-in-fic

Day 25: new year's eve kiss

The Pocky Game

There's a hint of novelty in the air. Scully sneaks a glance at Mulder, who is trying to help her mother with the punch. Her one-armed gentleman. The smile on her face has been there for hours now. Who knew she'd end up smiling after a zombie attack? Never a dull moment when Mulder is involved, that's for sure.

There was no question as to where he would spend New Year's Eve. By her side. Especially after that first kiss. There hasn't been a repeat performance. Yet. It's no longer a question of if, just when.

For once, the new year holds so much promise.

"Fox, go sit down or… look, there's Dana," she hears her mother say and push Mulder towards her. He's wearing a sheepish expression as he makes his way over to her.

"What did you do?" Scully asks, bumping his hip with hers.

"It's not easy doing anything with one arm, Scully." She wants to kiss the pout off his face. Maybe not here, where everyone can see them. Most of the people here at her mother's house are neighbors she's only ever seen in passing. There are a few teenagers who obviously don't want to be here. A few kids running around and stealing snacks, convinced no one can see them. She is thankful that she's got Mulder. But are they ready to make it official? Whatever they are?

"Listen to my mother and sit down."

"Don't wanna."

"What do you want to do?" Uh oh, maybe she shouldn't have asked that. He doesn't answer and he doesn't need to. She sees it in the way his eyes take her in. It's in the way he licks his lips and smiles at her. The temperature in the living room rises with every second that passes. With every prolonged look they share.

"Mulder…," she mumbles, wants to remind him where they are. But she can't find the words. He takes her hand in his and she watches their fingers lace together. It's a perfect fit, in every way.

"Miss Dana?" There's a soft tug on her sweater and as she looks down, she sees one of the smaller children. The little boy holds out a pack of candy to her. "Can you please open this? I can't."

"Are you allowed to have them?" Scully asks and the child blushes.

"You know what?" Mulder says, addressing the boy. "We won't tell anyone if you share with us." The kid nods enthusiastically, revealing a big tooth gap when he grins.

"Here you go," Scully hands back the confectionery. The child takes out a biscuit covered almost entirely in chocolate and offers it to Mulder.

"Only one?" He asks but the kid shrugs and runs away with the box of biscuits. "Well, Scully, looks like we have to share. Do you know the Pocky Game?"

"The what?" Mulder makes his 'ah' face that he always gets when he knows something she doesn't. He takes a deep breath and puts on a smile.

"You see, this stick – it's called Pocky in Japan where the game originates from. Each player takes one end in their mouth and bites off a piece until nothing's left."

"Like in Lady and the Tramp?"

Mulder beams at her. "Exactly. Just better because it's chocolate. Do you want to play?" She knows he let out an important part. The part about what happens once there's no more Pocky. But it's a new year and she feels adventurous so she nods.

Mulder takes the end that's not covered in chocolate. It's awkward with their height difference but they make it work. Their eyes are glued to each other while they bite off piece by piece.

Her heart speeds up the closer they get. The chocolate is sweet, but she's tasted Mulder now and she knows he tastes even sweeter. She wants more of that taste. His nose bumps into hers and she almost bites off too much of the Pocky. And then the chocolate is gone and is replaced with Mulder. She doesn't know who moves in first, whose tongue invades first. All she knows is that she's kissing Mulder again.

He breaks the kiss way too soon, still grinning. "I win."

"Hey wait, why do you win?" She asks.

"Got you to kiss me at your mother's New Year's Day party."

"You made up this game, didn't you?"

He shakes his head, cupping her cheek and gently stroking it with his thumb. "It's real. I just saw a chance and I took it."

"Maybe this year we can take more chances."

"I'd like that."

[scullydubois]

Only the Light (ch. 3)

Description: Missy moves in with Scully post-One Breath/Scully’s abduction. In this chapter, Scully goes through her morning routine and gets a surprise...

part 1 here. part 2 here. tagging @today-in-fic​.

“Only the Light” won the poll, so it’s now the official title! Yay! Thank you for voting and thanks for all the feedback--I love your comments. This part is the longest yet (and the best imo)--enjoy!! 

-----------------------------------------

She floats outstretched through the sky as if it were the community pool she and Missy used to frequent as children. She tilts her face toward the sun, feels the warmth of it washing over her. Her eyes reflect the brilliant blue sky, mini-oceans in themselves. Her back is to the city, and she’s so high up she can’t hear one bit of the noise on the ground. She hopes this is what heaven is like. If this is heaven, she has nothing to fear. 

And then she’s falling, a casualty of gravity. Hell has found her. It always does. This is an unfortunate truth she must live with. The sky races past her and there’s a pit in her stomach so deep she thinks she must be breaking the laws of physics, her body stretching like a rubber band about to snap. Surely she is not a human being anymore. Surely she won’t be by the end of this.

The ground hurdles toward her. She can’t see it, but she knows. She wonders what shape they will find her in, or if she will even be found. She hopes for her family’s sake that she’s in so many pieces they can’t put her back together. It’s easier, she thinks, when the body doesn’t look human. Burying a radiant-looking thirty year old is sad. Burying a mangled mess of a corpse is a relief. 

As if on cue, her alarm chirps. She awakes in one piece and punches the alarm, reality whisking away the horror of her dreams. Sweat saturates her silk pajamas, leaving a morning dew of sorts on her sheets. The blankets were thrown off at some point during the night. She does not remember doing this, so she can only assume it was the work of the demonic force in her brain.

Waking up in a puddle of her own sweat has become commonplace since she was returned. The first time the heat was so stifling she thought she must have had a fever that broke, but the mercury thermometer in her bathroom said otherwise. Her body seems to have a mind of itself these days. 

For the time being, her mind is still functioning, so she pulls herself out of bed to get ready for work. This routine part of her day is a privilege she relishes. Very rarely does she get to function on autopilot.

It goes like this: first, she slips off her pajamas and changes her underwear. It is at this point without fail that she realizes she hasn’t bought a new pantyset in years, and wouldn’t it be nice if she did? This mental note slips away by the time she buttons her suit jacket and tucks her undershirt into her slacks.

Next, she switches on the bathroom light and performs the typical tasks of self-care--brushing her teeth, washing her face, and whatnot-- that some might find tedious or annoying. For Scully, they are soothing. She spends too much time thinking about aliens and not enough thinking about herself. She’s not sure she believes in either, but god, it would be nice to try. 

Veering close to the latest possible time at which she could still expect to beat DC traffic to the office, she brushes her hair (no time for a hundred strokes), dabs some concealer under her eyes, and swipes on her favorite lipstick. No need to go all out; she knows where she stands.

Finally, she opens her closet and stares at the rack of heels. They’re uncomfortable and damn inconvenient for an FBI agent, but Mulder’s tall and she is not. She had a fraction of her current pairs before she met Mulder. No coincidence. 

She chooses the tallest pair she owns because she needs the confidence boost. They’re headed to a nursing home in Massachusetts today, so hopefully there will be no running in the woods involved. 

She click-click-clicks down the hallway. The scent of strong coffee permeates the air. She turns the corner, and there’s her sister with a pot of coffee and two plates of scrambled eggs. It is seven o’clock in the morning, and they were up at 3am last night. The last thing Scully expects is for her sister to be cognizant, let alone to have cooked. 

“Good morning sunshine.” Missy slides a plate over to Scully’s usual spot at the table and pours the piping hot coffee into a ‘Kiss Me, I’m A Doctor’ mug. 

Scully pinches herself. No, she’s not dreaming. This is too happy to be one of her dreams anyways.

“This is a surprise,” she says as she takes a seat at the table.

“Well, I fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 5:30. I figured it’s been awhile since someone’s cooked you breakfast.”

Scully takes a sip of the coffee. 

“I don’t even cook myself breakfast.”

“Exactly.”

Melissa tops off Scully’s mug. 

“Is it strong enough? I couldn’t drink mine without adding about a half a cup of milk, so I figured I must be doing something right.”

Scully is so grateful to be waited on that it could be a milkshake and she wouldn’t complain. It is strong enough though, stronger than the milk and sugar mixture someone calls coffee at the FBI. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, meaning it.

“Good. I saw the end of that movie, by the way. You were right, it’s a real snoozefest.”

Scully laughs. “I actually like that movie. That’s why it helps me fall asleep.”

Missy scoffs. “They spend the entire movie pining over each other just for one chaste kiss at the end! Where’s the fun in that?”

“Probably shortly after that chaste kiss.”

Missy smirks, pleased that she’s gotten her sister to make a sex joke at seven o’clock in the morning. She softens her voice-- 

“I did want to talk to you, though.”

Scully finishes chewing the forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth. 

“I have to leave soon or I’ll be late.”

“Late for what? One of Mulder’s slideshows?”

Scully sits back. Maybe Missy has a point.

“I’m sure you’re tired of my questioning,” Missy says, “so I won’t ask you another thing. Say what you need to say.”

Say what you need to say. So simple, yet so powerful. It occurs to Scully that no one ever gives her this type of shameless permission. They shouldn’t have to, but she’s never been one to talk out of turn. What a relief to have the freedom to speak plainly. 

She exhales. She has spent the past weeks playing back the few memories she has of her disappearance--she won’t call it the other word--and trying to decipher what happened to her. She is no closer to figuring it out than she was when Mulder gave her necklace back, but it might help to share what she does remember.

She launches into it, her memories flowing out in one long stream.

“You know, when I was in the hospital, I kept having this vision that I was in a lifeboat. There was a rope tying it to the dock and on the dock were all the people I loved, the people that were around me. You and mom and Mulder and the nurses.”

Melissa listens sympathetically, shocked and relieved that her sister is opening up.

“But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything but sit there in that boat and hope that somehow, the tether wouldn’t snap.”

This is the most vulnerable Missy can remember seeing her sister since the passing of their father. There are a respected few who have witnessed Dana Scully reveal the inner workings of her mind. It’s a rare honor to witness Dana Scully reveal the inner workings of her heart. 

Scully continues.

“And then it did snap, and I had...I can only describe it as a near-death experience. Dad was there...He was in his uniform with all his medals and he told me that he loved me and—that we would be together again, but not yet.”

Missy nods along.

“So I guess...that kept me from going. That’s how I knew I had to stay.”

“Wow,” Missy breathes.

“From then on, I could hear everything you guys were saying. I heard you and mom telling me that I was below the criteria of my living will and I was trying to give you a sign…”

Her voice breaks. 

“I was so scared you would pull the plug on me.”

“Oh my god, Dana.” Missy engulfs her in a hug. “I am so sorry.”

Scully breathes into her sister’s neck. Her hair smells like the strawberry shampoo they used when they were children. She wonders if Missy still uses it, decides that now is not the time to bring that up. Instead, she lets go of the hug first.

“I started thinking, if I am below the criteria of my living will, maybe that’s the right thing to do. Maybe if I ever truly wake up, I’ll be so damaged I won’t be able to work for the FBI or have anything resembling a happy life.”

She sighs. “And you and mom said your goodbyes, and I was thankful, actually, that I got to hear them because so many people don’t and you just...never know with my profession.”

She bites her lip to keep from crying.

“And then sometime later I heard Mulder come in, and his wasn’t a goodbye. He touched my hand—I could feel it but I couldn’t respond—and he told me he was there. And I could feel his sadness, but I could also feel his hope. And that was all I needed, was hope.”

“He gave you the strength to wake up,” Missy says, partly as a question. 

“Or the courage to.”

Melissa considers this. She remembers how solemn she felt going to Fox’s apartment that night, delivering the news that her sister was weakening. This must be how nurses feel when they tell loved ones to say their goodbyes, she thought at the time. When he said he wasn’t able to go see Dana in the hospital, she was furious. How can you be so naive? she thought. Are you so afraid of pain you refuse to feel your own feelings? She realizes now this sounds like something she might say to her sister. 

Melissa decides not to mention her involvement in any of this. After all, she hadn’t succeeded in convincing Fox to go to the hospital. That was his own choice. Instead, she says--

“He was really looking out for you, you know. He was a soldier for your cause.”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn up the slightest bit.

“I don’t doubt it. Mulder is nothing if not a good soldier.”

Melissa thinks back on meeting Fox. She said that Dana had talked to her, that her soul was there. He didn’t believe her.

“Fox was exactly what you said he would be,” she tells her sister, “and somehow I was still surprised by the sheer force of his determination.”

Scully chuckles. 

“Well, I don’t exaggerate these things. If anything, I downplay them.”

“No kidding.”

Melissa wets her lips, letting silence rest comfortably at the table with them.

“You’re really lucky you know, to have him as a partner.”

Scully nods. 

“I know.”

And she does.

[foolishheadstronggirl]

Served - Chapter 3

New chapter time! =)

I was going to post on Wednesday, but I just couldn’t bring myself to post anything on episode night and take away from that fun!  And then it was game night (I coach softball) and family days, so today’s the day lol.  But I have a couple of chapters pretty much ready to go I think, so I can send those out more frequently.  Thanks for hanging in there with me, and for all the encouragement!

As always, big thanks to the wonderful @13starbuck42 for the excellent beta work, cleaning up my crazy Southern vernacular!  Also tagging @today-in-fic

Catch up with Chapter 1 and Chapter 2!

A/N: I’m going a little off here and playing Time Lord - this museum didn’t actually exist IRL until 1983, but for the purpose of my story, I’m going to pretend it did!

Chapter 3 – Charmed

After a rather sweet first date, Dana Scully was pleased to say the least.  Whatever had been said about Daryl Worthington before was falling upon deaf ears now, because she truly believed he wouldn’t treat her poorly.  He certainly hadn’t so far; he’d actually been very attentive to her since they had officially started dating!  Carrying her books, walking her to class, driving her home instead of his buddies, spending Friday nights just hanging out.  He had kissed her goodnight at the end of their second date, and Dana was most definitely ready for it.  It had been a really great start, and Dana was happy.

While most of their dates had been casual meals and weekend movies, one date was so special it stood out from all the others.

On Saturday morning at ten o’clock, the Scully’s phone rang and Dana heard her mom answer.  Several minutes later, Maggie called up the stairs, “Dana, honey, can you come down here for a minute?”

Is something wrong? Dana thought as she raced down the stairs.  Is it Ahab?!  She tried desperately to calm down, her rational mind attempting to reassure her that if it was serious, her mother would have been upset; Maggie completely lacked the ability to remain stoic when it came to her husband and children.

Maggie smiled reassuringly.  “I can see you thinking way too hard, sweetheart.  Everything is fine.  That was Daryl.  And before you get jumpy, he called because he wanted to ask me if it was ok before mentioning it to you, in case I said no.   But I think it’s a nice idea, so go get dressed.  You have a date this afternoon.”  

Dana opened her mouth, ready to rapid-fire a barrage of questions, but her mother cut her off.  “No ma’am, I’m not telling you anything!  That’s the other reason he called me instead of you: this date is a surprise!  Go get yourself ready!”  Maggie said with a sly little lilt in her voice and a knowing smile.

Most people liked surprises, but Dana Scully was not terribly fond of them.  They rarely lived up to the hype, and quite often left her feeling at least a little disappointed.  But she was determined to enjoy whatever this turned out to be, because it was a sweet gesture.  Dana couldn’t contain the tiny smile peeking out the corner of her mouth.  She might not be like most girls she knew, but when a guy planned something special, it was hard not to feel pleased.  Dana dressed in a flowy tunic and tights, pulled her hair back (in case they were going to be outside, she reasoned), and headed back downstairs to wait.

When Daryl showed up a half hour later, Dana was glad that she had put on something more dressy than jeans.  Daryl was wearing a crisp button-down shirt and looking much nicer than he did for their typical Saturday night hang-out dates.

“So, you gonna let me in on this big secret?” Dana said teasingly.

Daryl chuckled.  “You’ll see.  I think you’ll love it.”  He turned toward Maggie as he directed Dana out the door.  “Thanks again, Mrs. Scully.  I’ll have her home by 10pm.”

“You kids have fun!”  Maggie’s voice carried through the door as it closed behind Dana.

Dana and Daryl chatted casually as they cruised down 163 to I-15, but when Daryl swung the car onto Highway 91, Dana was befuddled.

“Daryl, where are we going?”  she asked with an edge to her voice.  The excitement of adventure was giving way to anxiety over not having any idea where she was.

“Babe, I really wanna keep it a secret ‘til we get there, okay?  I know it’s killing you right now, but it’ll be worth it!  So let’s talk about something to take you mind off it.  Tell me what you wanna do when you grow up, young lady,” Daryl grinned at her.

Dana rolled her eyes.  “Ugh, Daryl, don’t patronize me!”  She laughed to assure him she wasn’t angry.  “Well, you already know, don’t you?  I’m going into medicine.  I’m not sure what specialty yet, but my father really wants me to practice.  I just haven’t found anything that lights me on fire, you know?  It’s weird, but sometimes I feel like I’m missing…something, but I have no idea what.  Missy keeps telling me that I’ve got plenty of time to figure out the future and that I should quit worrying about it. But it’s really not that far away, and the things I focus on now really do matter!  That’s Melissa, though.  Anyway, you knew all that already; what about you?  What do you want to do after you graduate?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Daryl shrugged, noncommittal.  Dana felt mild shock at the idea of someone a year and a half away from graduating having no concrete plan for the future.  He continued, “I’ll probably go to the community college and do some welding classes, maybe get on an oil rig somewhere.  I don’t figure I’m going to go some big college, though; I’m pretty tired of classes all day long.  I really want to do something with my hands anyway… you know, manly stuff,” he half-smiled, eyes on the road.

Dana felt a slight twinge of something like wistfulness, but shook it off quickly.  Who knows, she thought hopefully, it’s a long time until next May… I might be able to help him think more clearly about his future!  He’s smart enough to go to college; to really make something of himself!  Maybe we could study for the SATs?  Touring some college campuses together would definitely be fun!  

As they rolled down the California highway, Dana and Daryl enjoyed easy conversation, sandwiches and fruit, and early afternoon sunshine.  After a pleasant two-hour drive, they reached their destination: the San Bernardino County Medical Society.  Dana turned and quirked an impertinent eyebrow toward her boyfriend, whose laughing eyes found hers immediately.  Before she could ask him anything, though, Daryl’s attention was drawn to a door beyond her shoulder.

“Good afternoon, sir!  Thank you so much for your response to my letter; I’m very excited to show my girlfriend your facility here,” Daryl spoke gregariously to the well-dressed gentleman who had walked out to meet them.

The man shook Daryl’s hand, then extended his arm to Dana and clasped her hand warmly.  “Certainly!  We are honored to show off our wonderful facility to young people to further interest in our disciplines; that’s precisely why we’re here!”  He replied, then turned his attention to Dana.  “You actually picked a perfect day to come by; we are preparing for a visit from a school group later today, so everything is shiny and ready!  My name is Dr. Hamilton, and I know from my correspondence with your young man that you are Ms. Dana Scully.  It is my absolute pleasure to meet such a lovely young lady with an interest in the field.”

To say Dana’s interest was piqued was an understatement of the grandest proportion.  What is this place? she wondered, incredulous.

“And what field would that be, sir?” Dana asked slyly, slicing a glance at Daryl, who laughed out loud at her overt attempt to discover just what she was about to face.

Dr. Hamilton chuckled and offered his arm to the tiny redhead.  “Tell you what, Ms. Scully; why don’t you let me show you?”  The kind professor ushered Dana into the building, with Daryl following closely behind.

Inside, Dana was greeted by a neat reception desk and a sign reading, “Southern California Medical Museum.”  Bewilderment, then excitement lit her eyes as she realized what this must be, and she spun toward Dr. Hamilton and Daryl to make sure she understood correctly.

“It’s a collection of medical, dental, and pharmacy artifacts, such as surgical tools, antique bottles, unique devices that truly have to be seen to be believed, and a medical library.  We have really interesting items like bleeding bowls, invalid feeders, and all kinds of instruments used during various wars, including the Civil War.  Even if you’re not interested in becoming a medical historian, it’s interesting to see where we’ve come from, don’t you agree?” Dr. Hamilton presented.

Dana turned wide, animated, blue eyes toward Daryl.  “How long can we stay?”

___________

Dr. Hamilton had discussed most of the exhibits with Dana and Daryl, but left, albeit reluctantly, when the school group showed up for their tour.  He told Dana to write down any questions she might have and said he would be happy to answer them for her before she left, or in continued correspondence if need be.  Dana shook Dr. Hamilton’s hand firmly, promising to visit again soon.

Dana wandered the museum to her heart’s content, spending hours looking at anything and everything. She was fascinated.  Daryl walked beside her, staying close most of the time.  But occasionally, he hung back, leaning against a wall to watch Dana as she discovered and learned.  By the time Dana was ready to leave, she had filled two pages of a legal pad with questions about a series of exhibits featuring the progression of surgical tools and procedures, with an interesting sidebar about pathology and battlefield forensics.

The pair left the museum hand in hand, and when they were back in the car, Dana leaned over and kissed Daryl.  “That was wonderful, Daryl, thank you so much.  It was incredibly thoughtful of you,” Dana effused warmly.

“I’m glad you liked it; I wanted to show you I’ve been paying attention,” Daryl replied.  “Now, let’s go grab a bite to eat back at the bay before I have to whisk you home,” he said with a smile.

When Dana walked in the front door that evening, Maggie was reading in the armchair; she had been waiting up to hear all about the surprise date.  She immediately noticed that her youngest daughter looked a dazed, maybe even a bit distracted, as she hung up her jacket and ambled into the living room.

“So, did you have fun?  How was it?”  When Maggie spoke, Dana jumped slightly, as if she hadn’t even noticed her there.

Dana smiled.  “Perfect, Mom,”  she sighed.  “It was perfect.”

[theticklishpear]

Something I always struggle with is proper grammar before and after dialogue. Do you have any advice on that? Like when to end dialogue with a comma instead of a period, when to capitalize a sentence after dialogue or when you shouldn't? It's something that always bothers me when I'm editing my own work and I'm never sure about all the rules!

I’m so glad you asked, Anon! Grammar has always come naturally to me, so I’ll do my best to help lay it out there for you.

The basics:

Dialogue is made up of a couple of components: The symbols used to signify dialogue, the sentences being spoken by the character, and the optional dialogue tags that sometimes accompany the dialogue.

Dialogue Symbols:

I say “symbols” here, because different countries use different requirements. If you’re not in the US, this post won’t be quite as helpful. We use double quotation marks to encapsulate our sentences of dialogue: “I can’t believe it!”

Other places may use single quotes (’’), double or single chevrons (>), hooked brackets in various directions (「」), or any number of other indicators. Wikipedia actually has a really nice list that, while not entirely comprehensive, is a good first glance. For this discussion, we’ll be using American standards.

Dialogue Itself:

The dialogue sentences themselves should appear within these signifiers, and the sentences should reflect the way your character speaks. They may be complete or fragments.

Dialogue Tags:

Dialogue tags are the bits that attribute a piece of dialogue to a character. It’s the he said, she said of our narratives. Dialogue tags can either start off your dialogue:

Glancing over her shoulder, she muttered, “They’re not following us yet.”

Or they can close off your dialogue:

“Get over here!” they said.

They might be combined with other actions such as that first example, but they don’t have to be. A dialogue tag is not a sentence on its own. They are always purposeful fragments. They always set up dialogue or close it off. For more on dialogue tags and how they function in the story, check out:

Let’s Talk About: Dialogue, Part Eight: More Than TagsLet’s Talk About: Dialogue, Part Twelve: The Tag TalkDialogue Tags & Redundancy

When do we use commas?

The reason I brought up dialogue tags is because they are how we decide where we use commas in conjunction with dialogue. Because dialogue tags are never a complete sentence on their own, they must always be attached to something (in this case, dialogue).

Tag Introduces Dialogue:

When you begin your dialogue with a tag such as the first example, the dialogue tag receives the comma before the dialogue begins. You should not have another tag at the end of the dialogue (because you already told the audience who’s speaking using the first tag), so you will end that dialogue with whatever punctuation befits the sentence:

I run a glass beneath the tap, asking as calmly as I can, “What makes you think Shanna’s missing?”

Don’t forget that in order to be a tag, it must have a verb that indicates talking.

Tag Ends Dialogue:

If you put your tag at the end of your dialogue, the tag still needs to be attached to something in order to be complete. The dialogue will receive the comma and the tag will receive the period to round out the sentence:

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, her fists on her knees.

The exception to this rule is when the dialogue ends in something other than a period. Question marks and exclamation marks take precedence over the commas and replace them. Sentences within dialogue that end in these punctuation marks must keep those special marks, but the dialogue tag still has to be connected to something. It is not a complete sentence and should not be capitalized. However, you also need to indicate that the entire sentence is finished, so you must put a period at the end of the tag as well:

“What about Marc?” she screams.

When do we use em-dashes?

Em dashes are the extra-long hyphens that indicate an interruption in dialogue or unfinished dialogue (among other things). They, like question marks and exclamation marks, supersede and take the place of commas at the end of dialogue:

“I don’t know! I just thought—”

Dialogue that ends in an em dash does not get a comma. If you add a tag to the end of a piece of dialogue like this, it follows the above rule: It’s not a complete sentence and it must be attached to something, so it is not capitalized:

“I don’t know! I just thought—” they stammered.

Check out this other ask to learn more about the difference between hyphens, en dashes, em dashes, and other dashes:The proper use of en and em dashes

When do we capitalize?

Dialogue itself should always be capitalized, regardless of where the tag appears.

Dialogue tags only get capitalized if they appear at the beginning of the dialogue:

The other officer interrupts, saying, “Hey, pass me your flashlight a second. This lantern’s too dim.”

Dialogue tags at the end of a line of dialogue are never capitalized unless the first word of the tag is a name or the I pronoun:

“Don’t make me break this door down. I will!” someone shouts, pounding on the door.

“You won’t,” I yell back, flinging it open to face three policemen on my doorstep.

What happens when it’s not a tag? What about when it’s just a typical sentence?

Sentences surrounding dialogue that are not tags should be treated just like a normal sentence that has nothing to do with the dialogue, no matter whether it comes before or after the dialogue. There are plenty of times you’ll just want a line of dialogue to begin and the paragraph around it gives enough context that you don’t need a tag. That’s fine. Those sentences will be complete all on their own and they should be treated as such. The only time the rules change is when it’s a dialogue tag, and that’s due to the nature of tags as incomplete fragments.

She shakes her head. “Just you, Miss Dana.”

“She shakes her head” is not a tag. While the reader can easily intuit that “she” is the one speaking the following line, “she shakes her head” is simply a sentence on its own and does not actually do the job a tag does of attributing the dialogue to “she.” Therefore, it gets treated like any other line of narration.

“Hey, Shanna,” I start. My voice sounds like gravel in my ears. “I bet you’re still sleeping it off.”

“I start” is a tag. It’s a fragment that gives a speaking verb to a character in conjunction with the dialogue. Because it comes at the end of the dialogue and the dialogue would have gotten a period normally, it follows the earlier rules and gets the comma so that the tag can have something to hold on to that makes it complete. The next sentence is just descriptor and is not a tag. It could have occurred at any point in the narrative description. It just happens to be sandwiched between dialogue. Therefore, it’s treated as any other line of narration, with its own punctuation. The last line of dialogue doesn’t have a tag–doesn’t have anything it needs to help be complete–and therefore gets to keep its period.

I’m sorry that got so long, but I hope it helps somewhat. Below the cut is a larger excerpt that puts all these things together for you. Let me know if you need anything clarified or better explained! Good luck! -Pear

Putting it all together:

Most of the excerpts used today come from a mild horror piece that won a contest some years ago. You can read Please Forgive Me elsewhere. Here’s a slightly adjusted snippet that puts a lot of what we’ve talked about into a narrative for you to see.

It’s not the mailman on the other side, but rather a casserole in the hands of a smiling Alexi. I feel myself straighten, sure I’m going to lift off the floor with happiness. Then I blink and Alexi dissolves into Shanna, Alexi’s sister. “Sorry to catch you off guard,” she bubbles. “Put some pants on–we’re having a party!” She pushes through, followed by half the rest of my friends, and me without my pants.

Halfway up the stairs already, I call, “Make yourselves at home.” Jeans will do, but I sweated and cried off all my makeup at Del’s. Shanna leans on the door frame behind me as I smear on foundation, grab some eyeliner. “Could have called,” I say.

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” she laughs. “I thought maybe you could do with some cheering up, what with your main clique all on vacation without you. Heard anything from them?” Her voice holds a casualness I envy.

“No,” I say, perfecting my cat’s eye in gold. “You?”

Shanna deflates, sitting on the lid of the toilet. “No, and not from the police, either.”

“We’re still suspects.”

“Ridiculous,” she mutters, her fists on her knees. “I’m her sister.”

“And I’m her girlfriend. It’s okay. Close kin and friends are always suspects.” I put the finishing point on my eye and cap the liner. “Come on, we’re missing the party.”

[anxiety-trademark]

The week in review:

Raw 12/07 NXT 12/09 NXT UK 12/10 Smackdown 12/11

Raw:

Nia hyping up Shayna. That’s nice.

Shayna vs Asuka should’ve been a ppv match during Asuka’s reign. They don’t seem to care that much about protecting Shayna in tag matches, as she always eats the pin, so I’m not sure why they protect her so much in singles. She submitted Asuka (along with everyone else) in the elimination chamber, Asuka should want to prove herself better than Shayna. This is why I liked Becky’s reign, I loved the aspect of her collecting her debts against people who had wronged her, and the sideplates of the former champions she beat. That jacket was dope. The story was dope.

Man Shayna is so strong, that girl is built like a bull. I swear her bmi must be as low as Bayley’s.

How did Shayna of all people make taking a release German suplex look better than like a dozen other women in the past year? Good for her. Knows how to actually jump.

Lol so Lana willingly jumps onto Nia’s shoulders in the position of a powerbomb, and as Nia is walking her over to the announce desk, Lana sends Nia into it with a headscissors takedown. That’s great.

Lana’s just running away lmao.

Shayna just ate an L via rollup. See? Protection.

I was gonna force myself to sit through Dana’s backstage segment with Ricochet, but then Riddle popped up, and honestly? Can’t be bothered.

Welp I don’t do mixed tag matches unless they’re compelling... which this is not.

Hate: Asuka being a cheerleader for fucking Lana. She is the Raw women’s champion, does anyone remember this??? Terrible stuff.

Love: Asuka leaving Lana with some stupid mantra to repeat to herself before Lana turns to find herself face to face with Nia. Great stuff.

Nia just shaking her head as Lana slowly, oh so slowly, backs away. Fantastic. See this would all be a compelling midcard feud if the Raw women’s title wasn’t involved, is that a fair complaint? I feel like that’s a fair complaint.

Points to Nia for not breaking.

Highlight: Nia intimidating Lana backstage by merely looking at her

---

NXT:

Toni claims Ember stole her thunder, and honestly? I can see it. They both moved (back, in Ember’s case) to nxt the same night, and which one was given the promo time in the middle of the ring to start off the following week’s show? Not Toni. Who was propelled into a feud almost immediately against Dakota, a top player? Not Toni. Who got the opportunity to share the ring with former nxt champion Rhea in the main event? Not Toni.

Well apparently Io doesn’t like Toni lmao.

Io sets Toni up for the moonsault, and Toni rolls out of the ring. I criticize wwe for being predictable, but I’m gonna be honest when I say that I did NOT predict Ember running down from out of nowhere just to topple Toni. That was great. Shame this is absolutely leading to a tag match.

So Ember rolls Toni back into the ring and Io hits the moonsault... and then proceeds to pin her before she realizes what she’s doing and rolls off lol. Should’ve just committed, crowd would’ve counted to 3 for her and it would’ve been great.

That’s right Raquel, go destroy Ember in the name of Dakota. Can’t believe my second favorite performer on that roster isn’t there tonight. BLASPHEMY.

Xia out here striking wooden pegs and I can actually see the purpose. Boa getting the shit beat out of him? Not understanding the point there. They call it penance, but Wade is right, looks like torture. Guess it’s more of a mental thing though, right? Break the nerves and sensitivity?

*The Way celebrates their TakeOver victories* No.

Wow Ember gets the main event match again? Man, yikes for Toni. Cool for Raquel though, this is the furthest she’s gone in her singles career without Dakota.

That Eclipse onto those 2 chairs was brutal, Dakota is a trooper.

I really dislike Ember’s persona, and I would love to see her be humbled. She did jack shit on the MR and has the audacity to run back to nxt beaming with arrogance?

Nice, Raquel hits Ember with a boot to the midsection as Ember’s in midair, and she flies back a few feet. Impactful.

Why is Ember selling her lower back? Is that genuine? An ongoing injury, or something from WarGames?

Kind of a slow moving headscissors into a tornado ddt, but it’s such a beautiful move that I don’t even care.

Does Ember typically do her suicide dive through the bottom and second rope? If so, I’m beginning to understand why hers looks so friggin brutal. Peeps going through the second and top rope always kind of gracefully land on their opponents. Ember looks like a missile.

That’s cool; Ember’s crazy ass was climbing up some metal thing, Raquel goes over and pulls her off, Ember lands perfectly on Raquel’s shoulder in a one armed fireman’s carry, then Raquel tosses her face first into the ring post. Ember landed perfectly on the apron, too. Good spot.

Raquel is dangling through the ropes with her head near the ring post and Ember charges at her on the apron. Raquel eats a knee to the side of the head but puts her hand up between her and the ring post so she doesn’t accidentally smack her head against it. She’s very safe and aware of her surroundings, I’m noticing. That’s gonna take her really far.

That was a good match. I can see why Raquel is getting set up for a push. She’s safe, strong, sells well, has an intimidating look, and is serviceable on the mic. I can see the appeal.

Toni’s come to deliver a receipt to the receipt she received herself.

LMFAO Toni goes to pull up Ember and jumps when she hears Rhea’s music. That history runs DEEP. That was hilarious, she genuinely looks shook.

Oh that focus in Rhea’s eyes is great. Man she’s come so far this past year.

Rhea is such a solid babyface. She does all the right things as a leader of the division would without going overboard and coming off as a doormat. Asuka is the complete opposite; does nothing to help her division from unfair shenanigans, and when she does, she come off as an idiot.

Man that tension between Rhea and Toni is thick. They’re like the same age too, right? Their futures will be heavily entwined.

...Alright well honestly I was more enchanted by the concept of a Rhea/Toni feud, even though we’ve seen that like 3 times, than a rehash of Rhea/Raquel. I knew this was coming, but you’re kind of killing my vibe, here.

I actually really liked the Raquel/Rhea fight but I feel like they have subzero heat outside of an actual match. They suck at hyping a future fight between each other. Basically they’re the exact opposite as Rhea/Toni, since Rhea and Toni have like... never had a good match, yet always know how to sell one to me anyway lmao.

Highlight: Ember vs Raquel

---

NXT UK:

Jinny out here calling Piper a wild animal lol. Her in-match dialogue sucks, but I’m here for her as a promo.

“[Isla] has yet to really kick out of first gear [...] what does Isla Dawn need to do to keep her momentum moving forward?” She needs to literally move out of first gear and work on her stamina, holy shit. She’s one of the weakest in the cardio department imo.

Since I’m already being critical, Xia is super overhyped and I need everyone to calm down. She has a lot to work on before she should even be considered midcard.

Yes sure, Xia has technical fundamentals and literally nothing else. Oh she’s only 22? That makes more sense. Man the UK stars are young lol.

We’ve finally moved past wrist locks, miracles have occurred.

Imagine being a kickboxer and not utilizing that in your arsenal. Look at that, suddenly I’m actually being entertained by Isla for the first time. More miracles have occurred.

Xia “look at my fundamentals” Brookside, can you please explain who you’re yelling ‘come on’ to? There is literally nobody there. Are you hyping me up? Hm?? Hyping me up for another hurricanrana???

Xia very obviously helped roll Isla out of the ring there.

I really need announcers to stop assuming every wrestler is about to do a suicide dive/is gonna fly/do a high risk move. It’s seldom they toss out this assumption and are wrong, but every time I’ve seen it the performer went to do a mere baseball slide beneath the bottom rope, having typically never performed a suicide dive before.

That was awkward. Isla did no offense as Xia went to grab her off the ground, but Xia backed off and just looked at her. Then Xia no sells a punch to the midsection. ???

Oddly enough, suitcase luggage being delivered ring side isn’t the strangest thing I’ve seen in this match.

So they’re props for a mid-match promo from Nina meant to distract Xia. Distracted Xia turns around and eats an awkwardly slow kick to the neck, which she awkwardly sells, before Isla wins with a... back body drop?? What a finish :/

Highlight: That fleeting moment where Isla entertained me

---

Smackdown:

Sasha gets to kick off the show? That’s a first.

Saw someone today say that Sasha only works as a babyface if she’s an underdog or if she’s generally more of a “fun” character. Said there was no positive energy around her as a babyface right now. Honestly her character sucks.

Also saw someone claim Carmella was a better version of Sasha and I’m not disagreeing with that sentiment. They should probably be on different brands in their current characters.

“How fast can I make Carmella cry” Sasha sweetie, you are the last person that should be mentioning making someone cry.

God she even has that stamp. Why is this girl not a heel? What the hell are wwe doing pushing Charlotte and Sasha as babyfaces? They gonna try to turn Becky heel again if she comes back before crowds return? Imagine a world where Charlotte and Sasha are babyfaces while Bayley and Becky are running around as heels. oof. 75% of the way there.

Carmella is great, truly. One of the best promos in the women’s division, probably in my top 3 tbh. Glad to see her relevant in the spotlight once again.

They really are 2 sides of the same damn coin.

Sasha shouldn’t need Bayley to prop her up anymore. Enough of that well. It’s bone dry.

To be honest, it does still feel like Bayley’s show; it does still feel like she runs things, and that’s a testament to not only her booking and her massive success over the past year, but also to how she carries herself and how far her character has come. She’s absolutely on par with Becky and Charlotte now imo (which is why I wanted her to win the Royal Rumble and potentially main event night one of WrestleMania, but I digress) she’s beyond the need of having a title to be the main attraction. I never thought the 3 of them would all surpass Sasha in accolades, star power, and promo skills... but here we are.

Bayley back there talking shit about Bianca rofl.

Omg that captain thing was great. Bayley is creative and fun, and knows how to keep herself from becoming stagnant or dull. Points to Bayley.

Oh Bianca kept those insults from last week’s online exclusive. I love when wwe tests shit in online exclusives, sees the reaction, and then has the talent run that same promo/interview on tv the next week. This happens constantly. Love it.

Friggin love Bianca’s shirt. wwe should’ve printed out a ton of them. I would’ve copped the coin for it.

Girl has legit receipts rofl alright.

Called Nattie the boat. Subtly hyping up her coworkers. Solid.

Lmao Bianca ran Bayley off with her receipts. This is fun. This is a fun feud.

“I’m gonna beat the disrespect out of Sasha,” that’s a good line.

See Carmella has been doing that cackle long before Sasha started it up, and she’s better at it too. Sasha just needs to change things.

Why is Carmella calling Reggie ‘Tommy’? Is this like a dig at his name not mattering or was that a screw up? Couldn’t have been a screw up, she would’ve improvised. Do I have his name wrong? Am I the dumb one???

I need to start watching Raw Talk and Talking Smack. They won’t be a part of these “reviews” (ramblings) but still. I feel like I’m missing out on a lot of fun.

So I know this partnership between Nattie and Billie Kay is super temporary, but I still find it curious.

Okay so Liv tags in Ruby, runs to her, and Ruby sweeps up Liv into a wheelbarrow before Liv rolls through and trips Ruby, driving her into Billie Kay’s midsection. I’m gonna be honest guys, stuff like that is cool to see, but you could’ve literally just speared Billie Kay and saved everyone a ton of time and effort. Work smarter not cooler. Maybe situationally that potentially wouldn’t be terrible, but that was terrible tonight.

“Natalya probably the most powerful in this matchup” lol SIR. Natalya is probably the most powerful in the entire main roster, and only Bianca could be a contradiction. Curious to know which one is stronger, pound for pound and in general.

...Is Ruby okay? I’m concerned. She goes to give Billie Kay a Riott kick before Liv even gets her part of their combo finisher in, and then after she delivers her Riott kick, she crawls over to Natalya’s corner. Was Natalya not in place for a spot or something? Is Ruby on 4 shots of espresso too many??

This match was serviceable. Obviously it’s meant to merely advance Billie Kay’s storyline, so.

*Mario Lopez weighs in on Sasha vs Carmella* I’m good thnx.

Was... was that sheet real? Does Carmella actually dance behind a real sheet that drops down for her to walk down the ramp??

Man I gotta hear Sasha’s awful remix twice tonight, shame.

Lol how is Carmella being a WrestleMania battle royal winner more impressive/important than her being a champion for like 100 fucking days??? She has wins over Asuka, Becky, and Charlotte. THAT is more impressive than winning that stupid battle royal. 

I guess I can see why Sasha being Snoop Dogg’s cousin is more important than some of her previous accolades, but jfc Carmella resume to casual viewers is dumb.

Someone in the audience had their camera pointed up to a ceiling fan and you know what? Points to that person.

I like the countering of each others’ submissions. Both scouted their opponent well.

Carmella will always be such a natural trash talker with a snappy attitude in the ring. I’m not saying her current gimmick is bad, but the trash talking princess of Staten Island will always live inside of her.

Minor petpeeve: I dislike when wwe cuts to commercial during a 10 count.

Sasha was not manipulated into tonight’s match, nor was her hand forced. Her ego spoke for itself.

Sasha has really graceful footing. She reminds me of a cat.

“Banks might have a dislocated shoulder after that,” “and if that’s the case, there’s no way Sasha can lock in the bank statement,” fun fact: Sasha went into her elimination chamber match in 2019 with a fucked up shoulder. She also ended that match the victor by locking in a modified bank statement using one arm and a bent leg. It was creative, it was cool, and it worked.

History tells me that when Carmella starts letting her frustration in a match show, she will lose rather soon after. That’s where we’re at.

“vintage Sasha” SHE’S 28 YEARS OLD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT

Peep that Sasha slid herself back so Carmella could grab her as she climbed up the turnbuckles. Knows her spot.

Don’t do a jackknife cover on Carmella, you’re setting yourself up for the code of silence so damn easily.

Good transition into the bank statement though.

Good progression into a dq by Sasha as well.

OH SHIT Carmella just broke a fucking bottle of champagne over Sasha’s back. Is that gimmicked? Holy hell. It has to be right? That’s why it was a different color??

What a sound effect, oof. Oh Sasha’s selling that real well.

Lmao Carmella goes over and pours herself a glass, says “that’s good, really good,” before shaking the bottle all over commentary and Sasha. Carmella’s great at every character she plays, lesbireal.

Carmella needs to hop on down to nxt and teach those women how to trash talk in a match without fucking up. She’s fantastic.

Wow here’s Greg to FINALLY announce the winner. Yikes announcer, yikes.

This was fun.

Highlight: Carmella in general was fantastic tonight

---

*Smackdown easily shined the brightest. Everything was vastly entertaining and women dominated throughout the entire show. Loving the progression of everyone’s characters sans Sasha, but her match with Carmella was fun nonetheless.