#spooky scary spies my beloved

[lycan-cryptid-art]

spooky scary spies collab with @ratb4stard3 !!

i drew owen & the background and ghostly drew curt :D

(click image for high quality bc tumblr hates me /j)

[mewtonian-physics]

For the Nancy Drew questions, how about 98, 68, and 18. Thank you! Of course, don't feel obligated. Have a good day.

ooooh these are good

18. What Nancy Drew video game could you play over and over again? Why?

well it'd be easier to list the ones i COULDN'T play over and over again seeing as how i regularly replay pretty much all of them but i'd have to say the ones i go back to the most are shadow at the water's edge, the captive curse, ghost of thornton hall, and the silent spy :) for the first three it's because i like scary games! SAW has such a great spooky atmosphere and it reminds me so much of an actual japanese horror movie. CAP is just awful on the emotions but it's also a comfort game for me because it reminds me of my favorite place in the world! GTH is just incredible, the characters are great, the scares are PHENOMENAL (the way you almost never know when one is going to happen is FANTASTIC) and the setting is so so creepy. and SPY... well. i love spies, i love scotland (funny stories about that one), and i also love alice in wonderland so the references tossed in there are my beloveds. plus i like getting to see some of the backstory and honestly i just love the game as a whole, apparently that's not a super popular opinion but like... it really is one of my very favorites

68. Who’s your favorite character in Warnings at Waverly Academy? Why?

Mel! Mel, Mel, no question, Mel. she's a musician, which is great. i love her aesthetic. and i love the scene where she asks for cookies and milk i feel like it says a lot about her as a person and it's so cute. and the bit where she gets accused of plagiarism is SO well-written and the voice actress did a fabulous job. i also kind of have a bit of a crush on her. okay, maybe more than a bit.

also everyone else is just so... awful imo. they're all either mean or super annoying. (i would be so okay with rachel and kim if it weren't for the endless photography. thanks to that, i kind of hate them.) mel on the other hand is an angel and i'm glad she's there

98. What got you into Nancy Drew?

oh, god. i don't even know. i've been reading them since i was like... five? so i don't remember at all. it was probably just that, to paraphrase professor hotchkiss, my mind was like a ravenous monkey gobbling up every book in its path. but the three bookshelves full of nancy drew books AND the full game collection are enough to make it clear that this has been going on for a long, long time. (i have so many old yellow covers... i cherish them)

thanks for asking :D hope you have a good day too!

[ghostbustermelanieking]

xf fic write-in drabbles

so these are the things i came up with in last night’s fic write-in, hosted by @lepus-arcticus (thank you for hosting btw, i had a ton of fun!). there’s three drabbles under the cut, all based off of prompts that were part of the challenge. (more details at @txf-fic-write-in )

keep in mind that this stuff was written fast, is unedited, and was written while i was very tired. none of them make much sense, and #2 is pure crack and probably wildly ooc. it’s wildly scary and fun to post something i haven’t plotted, nor meticulously reread or edited. 

prompt #1: one word prompt - diner (written in 15 minutes)

The lights of the diner wash out her face. She looks worn out, drawn with a stubbly pencil with smudged edges. Like she could easily disappear. He’s catching her at the end of a shift at the hospital, exhausted, hair slipping out of her ponytail.

“I ordered your coffee the way you like it,” he tells her.

“Thank you.” She rubs her eyes with two fingers as she sits down. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He pushes the mug across the table towards her. It’s grown cold in the waiting. They agreed on eight o’clock and it’s eight thirty. She takes a sip and winces at the temperature.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

She fiddles with the box of Sweet’n’Lows. “Don’t.”

“I think I need to. It hasn’t been the same without you. I’ve been lonely.”

“I’ve been lonely, too. But you know it has to be this way.”

He huffs out a sigh, annoyed. “Because you needed space?”

“Because I was trapped in that house, Mulder, and there was no clear way out. I was suffocating. I needed to breathe.”

“Are you breathing now?” His voice is low. His fingers tap frantically on the plastic-y table top. It’s sticky with the remnants of a thousand breakfasts.

She breathes out. “I don’t know.”

The light catches her at an odd angle, and her hair falls across her face like filtered sunlight. Before he can stop himself, he reaches across the table and tucks the loose strands behind her ear. She stares into the coffee, unblinking.

“Come home,” he says. “One night. Just one.” What he doesn’t say is that he’s hoping that one night will be enough to get her to stay.

“Mulder, I can’t.” Her fingernails are gnawed to the quick. She hasn’t chewed her nails in years; or maybe he just hasn’t noticed.

“Scully,” he says. Her name tumbles out of his mouth, loose and tangled in the air.

There’s a pause of some sort between them. She opens her mouth, closes it. He slides his hand across the table to touch hers.

She stands, so fast that her knees hit the bottom of the table. “I can’t do this, Mulder. I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

“Scully.”

Her mug tips over, making a sharp clanking sound against the table, brown liquid sloshing like a flood towards the ketchup bottle. The old man at the end of the counter turns to look at them.

Scully blinks hard, looking at the ground. “I have to go,” she repeats. “I love you. I’ll see you later.”

“Scully…”

She cups his cheek, beard stubble under her hands, and kisses him. “I love you,” she repeats, before turning and leaving. Her car is parked out front; Mulder watches her leave from the giant window he is sitting by. He grabs a pile of napkins and mops up the coffee. He looks at the top of the table until it doesn’t look like anything anymore. He tries not to think of her, reply her I love you in his mind over and over again.  

The waitress asks him if he wants anything else. He orders another coffee. It’s an all-night diner and there doesn’t seem to be much point in going home.

prompt #2: trope challenge - skinner ships it (written in 30 minutes)

Walter Skinner may or may not be slightly drunk. He’s also on a mission.

Another teamwork seminar, another wine and cheese reception. And there are Agents Mulder and Scully, sitting together just like he expected. Mulder’s leaned halfway back in his chair, tearing a slice of cheese into two, four, six, and sandwiching it between crackers like a wobbly skyscraper. Scully’s sipping politely at wine, ankles crossed, mouth moving like she’s saying something too softly for anyone to hear. Mulder grins like an idiot, his hand brushing her elbow. They think they’re so clever.

“Sir,” Scully says, startled, when he appears out of nowhere. Mulder’s chair legs hit the floor hard as he turns to look at Skinner.

“You two think you’re so clever,” he tells them.

Wary, Mulder mouths, What did I do now? to Scully. She looks just as confused as he does, mouth hanging slightly open. “Sir, I don’t know what you…”

“I can see right through you, you know.” He points at them. “You’re very obvious with your… looks. And every few weeks one of you shows up in my office whining about how the other has disappeared and is in mortal danger and you need me to hunt them down. You’re very obvious.”

Scully’s mouth is all the way open in astonishment. Mulder looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh or scream or one of the two. He also looks extraordinarily uncomfortable. Good.

“Sir…” Scully says cautiously. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I know that you two are lovers.”

Mulder chokes on a cracker. Scully’s face flushes. Skinner concludes that he is more than slightly drunk. But the mission still stands.

“Sir, I can assure we haven’t…” says Mulder, at the same time Scully says, “I have no idea what you’re getting this from!”

He’s almost disappointed. “You… you really haven’t?”

They’re both blushing and studiously not looking at each other. They both slowly shake their heads.

“Never a date or a-a kiss or anything?”

Scully is staring a hole in the ground. Mulder shakes his head again.

“Oh.” Skinner feels very disappointed. “You should, you know. That Bureau policy stuff is bullshit. And besides that, I’ve seen you two looking at each other.”

Scully is pressing her palms together so hard that her knuckles whiten. They both look like they’d rather be somewhere else. Slowly, Mulder says, “How we… look at each other?”

“Sure. Like you’re in love.” Skinner shrugs. “It’s kind of adorable, you know. You look like an old married couple. Like me and Sharon. And everyone calls you the Spookies.”

Scully coughs, tucking her chin so close to her chest that it makes it look like she’s about to disappear.

Skinner lowers his voice. “Agent Mulder? Will you make sure I get invited to the wedding?”

Mulder fiddles with a pen in his suit pocket. “Of course, sir. I’ll even make sure you give a speech.”

“Thank you, Agent.” He feels some fatherly impulse to pat their heads, so he does. “You two are my favorites, you know. Even though you’re both pains in the ass.”

“Thank you, sir,” Scully mumbles behind clenched teeth.

He pats their heads again before leaving.

---

Walter Skinner wakes up the next morning with a raging headache and enough embarrassment to fuel a small nation. His bosses are not happy. He’s relieved that the seminar doesn’t officially start until today.

He writes out a very dignified apology on his laptop and prints two copies of it to shove under Agent Mulder and Agent Scully’s doors. He’s almost too embarrassed to face them. Twenty minutes later, he receives a post-it note in Mulder’s handwriting that says, You’re paying for the wedding, sir.

prompt #3: msr from another character’s perspective - csm (written in 15 minutes)

He’s been watching them for years.

Since the moment Agent Scully came into Blevin’s office, looking nervous and eager on the other side of his cloud of cigarette smoke. Since he listened to their first meeting over the crackling wiretap. Since his son came to his home and pointed a gun at him, demanding to know why she’d been taken instead of him.

He knows that Agent Mulder loves her, has known since that night. He is protective, a charging bullet when she is gone. His men reported him spending his nights on Skyland Mountain, searching, waiting. He ordered that Agent Scully be brought back. He feels some kind of off-kilter sympathy for his son, his searching. And to his credit, he never believes that Agent Scully loves him back.

Sure, she follows him, but is it all in the name of duty? Diana loves him more visibly, in a clear and fierce way. She stays by his bedside during the surgery. But still, Scully comes for him afterwards, his spies inform him. Months later, and his spies are telling him that Agent Scully is sharing his son’s bed. He takes a long drag of the cigarette, unsure of how, exactly, to process this information. “It could be a useful match,” he says, finally.

He weaves, manipulates, makes sure everything falls into place. Alex Krycek dumps him down the stairs and someone picks him up and carries him away. A few days later, his loyal spies fill him in. Agent Scully is pregnant. Agent Mulder is gone. Good.

Like his father, Agent Mulder dies, and like his other father, Agent Mulder doesn’t stay dead. He is a wavering ghost, hovering by Scully’s side until the threat grows too great. More spies attend the birth of his grandchild. A healthy boy, William. More reports come: the boy has powers. Agent Mulder is gone. He smokes and he waits. He knows his only grandchild will come someday, seeking answers to questions he doesn’t know how to ask. His son comes instead, Agent Scully trailing behind him. Everything points to the fact that she does love him. One little ray of sunshine in his life.

His son leaves and missiles rain down. Someone else finds him, carries him away again. He cannot die. The plague is coming, and he will not die. And as one last punishment to his son, he will make sure that his beloved Scully can’t, either.

The plague will come. His grandson will come. And Agent Scully will not die. It feels like a fitting end, all things considered.