#thursday's x-files rewatch Tumblr posts

[thursdayinspace]

Doing an X-Files rewatch again, and I'm having so many thoughts about the pilot. It's so incredibly well done. And having just done a (very fast) rewatch recently with the last episodes fresh in mind, it's amazing to me to see how well these characters were formed right from the beginning. Their whole dynamic.

One thing I find interesting is how we're set up to believe that Mulder is the one who doesn't really give a crap about authority, but it's really Scully in the first episode who goes against everything they expect from her. She is supposed to invalidate Mulder's work. Instead she goes off with him to fight crime, sees things she can't explain, and decides that yes this guy is crazy, but she really wants to know what's going on.

I love how she isn't for a second intimidated or even put off by his initial attitude. She stands her ground at their first meeting, he immediately puts her to the test by showing her slides of weird marks on victims and asking her opinion, and then goes on about aliens, challenging her to tell him he's insane. And the really beautiful thing? When she argues her point, Mulder argues back, but from the start, there is respect between them. He knows she's been sent to spy on him. But there is no hostility there, not from either of them. We get such a clear idea of those two are right from the start. They're basically really nice people.

And then there is the motel, Scully finding those marks on her back... They took that moment that could have been used to merely objectify her while giving him reasons to exploit her fear and treat it as weakness -- and instead they used it to establish even further the respect and the first sparks of trust between them. He laughs initially until he realises that she was actually afraid, and then his laugh fades right away and he takes her seriously. More than that, she stays and they talk, and he tells her his story, in more personal detail than he probably needed to. And she listens. Trust is met with trust.

They work *together* throughout the whole episode and manage to use their individual beliefs to challenge each other. Not to be right on principle, but to get to the truth. I love how that's a thing right from the first episode. Their partnership develops so naturally. Through respect and through their willingness to listen. Not to agree, but to argue their points and push each other closer to the truth.

The chemistry between them is so off the charts, and to a large extent that's really due to all of this. They are willing to find a common ground, and they find each other fascinating enough to want to know more. I love that so much. It's such a good episode.

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 Where to find good XF fanfics

👽 On Tumblr

@lilydalexf has an encyclopedic knowledge of fics and continues to be an invaluable resource. You'll find a boatload of themed fic lists, individual rec posts and helpful answers to anon asks.

@txf-fic-chicks-blog seven years of almost daily recs, with well-written blurbs and a lot of fun, run by @kateyes224 and @piecesofscully. Look out for their themed days: "Casefile Monday", "Tumblr Tuesday", "Editor's Pick Wednesday", "Post-Ep/Missing Scene Thursday", "Novel Length Friday", "Smut Sunday", and the very cool "Because You Watched"

@msrlibrary a well-tagged library of MSR fics; each entry includes a short excerpt and a nicely chosen image from the show.

@201daysofxfiles a rewatch blog by fandom veteran @wendelah. Each episode in season 1-7 is paired with its own fic rec post.

@enigmaticxbee an aesthetically pleasing and neatly organized rewatch blog that is packed with great content, including excellent fic rec lists categorized by season, story type, trope, and more. Each episode guide sometimes features related fic recs.

@thatfragilecapricorn30 posts one fic rec every Friday, accompanied by a nice writeup.

@randomfoggytiger curates many fic rec lists sorted by often fun and creative categories.

@cecilysass has a google doc titled "fics I love", which is a fantastic fic list categorized by story type, complete with thoughtful blurbs. She's also shared two episode-related fic rec lists on Tumblr: here and here.

@pookie-mulder writes a monthly fic journal with good recs.

**self-promo plug** I post fic recs on my Tumblr blog @fine-nephrit under #nephrit's fic rec. Plus, I reblog others' fic recs that I come across!

👽 Rec Communities

XF Book Club: the best thing ever, an absolute gem that deserves to be preserved for posterity. During its run, 270 fics were recced and discussed in depth here. The community's intelligent and insightful comments on this blog are sometimes even more enjoyable to read than the fics themselves.

The Fic Filter (xf tag): well-curated selections with short blurbs.

Multifandom Het Recs (xf tag): a major rec site's xf section that offers nice "why this must be read" writeups. @het-reccers

Crack Van (xf tag): another major rec site with a big xf section, featuring endless recs and blurbs

Fancake (xf tag): another major rec community's xf section boasting an extensive thematic tagging system

👽 Personal Blogs

Emily Shore aka Naraht: meta essays, fanvid recs, fic recs—great stuff aplenty

Bad for the Fish aka Scarlet Baldy: fantastic fic list paired with highly enjoyable reviews and analyses of the fics she's read. @badforthefish

Ramblings of a Mind Untamed: reviews of a dozen or so classic fics

xxSKSxx XF Fanfic Recs: still active in 2024! @xxsksxxx

X-Libris: more of a fic library, this is the best place to download nicely-formatted ebooks of pre-AO3 oldies. What I love most is the incredibly detailed and extensive tagging system.

👽 Individual Rec Lists with good writeup

Character Manifesto - Dana Scully: a character analysis and 10 Scully-centric fic recs, categorized by "best of .." selections. Amazing format and choices!

Character Manifesto - Fox Mulder: same format as above for Spooky

bachlava's awesome fic rec essays, covering classic fics and slash fics

ShipRecced blog's classic MSR fics and newer MSR fics recs

luminary's 16-fic rec post

RivkaT recs fics and writers @rivkat

Anna Otto's favorite stories

Syntax6's rec list on her site, great rec list on Tumblr and FTF rec list @syntax6

👽 90s Old School Rec Sites

The Basement Office - Musea: a treasure trove of extensive fic lists with lovely written blurbs, recced by a group of talented writers from back in the day

The Other Side - Fanfic Recs from Beyond the Grave: a large collection of 'scary' or 'spooky' story recs with nice blurbs. Beautiful web design.

the Rookery - Favorite Authors: nice commentary on a list of classic fic writers

X-Files Fanfiction 101: an intro guide to fic categories and what to read for each

The Primal Screamers: a fun site run by a mailing list that hosts fic recs with blurbs, and a 'Coffee Talk' section full of delightful discussions of canon

Idealists Haven - Elemental Fanfic Archive: an archive with rec blurbs

Chronicle X: a large, well-organized archive with blurbs, plus a 'Can We Talk' discussion section of novel-length fics, plus a total of 46 author interviews. Simply incredible!

👽 Special Mention

The X-Files Lost and Found: a fic finder message board that is miraculously still very active today—How wonderful! Its FAQ page hosts a huge collection of well-categorized themed fic lists (not recs), including "Classics (or, Your Fanfic Education is Not Complete Until You've Read ...)".

Where do you find your next read? What did I miss? Reblog and share your favorites!

[bellisima-writes]

10 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks so much for the tag @katiefrog217!!

Absolutely NO pressure tagging, but these folks have written some lovely pieces on AO3 and if they want to participate and talk about their art, they deserve to: @di-42, @addledmongoose, @notalostcausejustyet, @hikarry

1. How many works do you have on AO3? |

Two (one completed and one WIP about 40-50% done)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

*shifts uncomfortably in chair*

According to the stats page I just discovered (seriously how long has THAT thing been there?), I've published 185,536 words on AO3 (WHATTTTTTT in the what?!?).

3. What Fandoms do You Write For?

I've only ever written for Good Omens.

If we want to discuss what other Fandoms I have hyperfixated on and created elaborate stories only to not ever write them down? Then we can also include BBC Sherlock, The X Files, Stranger Things, and my OG from when I was a kid, Star Trek TNG. But I've only ever put pen to paper for Good Omens.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every. Single. One. If someone cares enough about what I write to make a comment, I am absolutely responding. The only time I don't respond to each is if there are multiple on a single chapter or I respond to one from a later chapter before the earlier one. Otherwise, I really do try to respond and thank every reader who's ever left me a note. It means the world to me.

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I've discussed it briefly with some people and would honestly love to.

7. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Aziraphale/Crowley. Though when I was a kid I was also obsessed with Niles and Daphne from Fraiser and every time I rewatch that show I am right back there (yes...old I know but it was good soup back in the Must See TV Thursday era).

8. What are your Writing Strengths?

Ummm...I think I build good plot, tension and (somewhat) unexpected twists into stories well. I have an inability to not try to figure out puzzles, which makes me annoying to watch movies with but turns out is a good skill for actually building twisty stories.

I also personally think my characterization and dialogue are strong, but that could be up for debate.

9. What are your Writing Weaknesses?

One completed fic and one WIP at 185k words is pretty self explanatory, I think. I spend a lot of time in set up and making sure the plot points I write are earned and while I do lean on the source material, I also feel a compulsive need to build out the motivations of my versions of these characters.

I can't write something thats out of character, my brain literally won't let me. It will get painfully stuck until I admit, this would not happen this way and abandon the scene and start over. I have an entirely written alternate version of the Last Angel that I completely scrapped at one point because it just wasn't right...

I also struggle with descriptive language. It's why I never, ever thought to write before entering this fandom last fall. Fanfiction is such a gift because everyone already has a picture of the world you're writing, of the people who are speaking, of their tone of voice, and so you don't have to spend time describing the landscape or physical qualities. So that huge gap in my skillset doesn't affect the story as much.

And humor. I want to be funny, so badly. And lighthearted. But my stuff tends to lean into the difficult themes in the universes the stories take place in. People who write humor well are unicorns and I worship them. Part of the reason I scrapped that alternate version of the Last Angel was because I was leaning into the funny a lot more and it just ended up not feeling realistic to the situation.

And grammar. My grammar could always grammar better.

10. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My initial Good Omens fic was the first story I ever wrote.

[mittensmorgul]

2022 in Mittens Fic

It’s time again for the annual accounting of things I wrote this year! I’m pleased that while still a disappointingly low total for me, I still beat my total word count from 2021, so progress is being made, which I’ll always gladly take! Honestly anything is better than that 2020 total at this point lolol! I long since abandoned my goal of ever surpassing the 250k i posted in 2015, but that’s okay! I still wrote a decent bit!

For reference, past year end summaries can be found here:

2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017 | 2016 | the closest thing I have to a 2015 wrap up post is the lil bit of text at the bottom of 2016′s post… even though my two most popular fics were from 2015 lololol

I managed a Pinefest fic, a DCRB fic, AND a DCBB fic this year, which is the first time I’ve ever managed all three, so go me I guess? And maybe I enjoy working to deadlines more than I ever assumed before? Or maybe I would’ve written even more if I hadn’t been pushing at deadlines (and letting myself slack off, even if rest is important and beneficial to writer brain, when I was far ahead of schedule...). But I’m overall pretty pleased with this year’s works.

I tied last year’s fic total, with six, but beat last year’s word count with 117,486, so go me! Not even counting the ~63k fic i’m working on for pinefest this year...even if it’s already written it’s not posting until February. Love rolling over a big fic into the new year every year like this. it feels weirdly like cheating somehow, yet I do it every year :’D

Also slightly cheating, but since I mentioned it last year, I still haven’t missed a week of my eternal rewatch podcast, @spngeorg which is still going strong! Uploading episode 91, 5.09 The Real Ghostbusters tonight! If my millions of words of written meta aren’t enough for you, you can now hear me being grumpy about this show out loud! (new episodes drop every Thursday night at or around midnight eastern time, if you’re interested you can start from the beginning on AnchorFM or wherever you enjoy podcasts!)

Let’s get to the fic! Presented in the order they posted:

Mr. Fix It (54,383 words, rated M) written for the Pinefest. It started with a photo of the shopping center sign that Mel sent me several years back, and the instruction “this is a writing prompt.” Amazingly, it was a great writing prompt! and a great art prompt, thanks to @lotrspnfangirl! Dean runs a repair shop called Mr. Fix It with Charlie, and Cas runs the bar at the other end of the strip mall, Steve’s. There’s shady real estate dealings, secret identities, and found family taking care of each other through it all.

lectio in equis (13,016 words, rated T) my first ever DCRB, and I screamed delightedly when I claimed @scarlettmichkat ’s artwork! Actually still kinda lowkey screaming about it. I LOVE this artwork. Like, wanna frame it and hang it in my living room love. Canon case fic, sort of, as Dean and Cas get to play cowboy for a day looking for a lost MoL chapter storage facility out in the New Mexico desert. Plus, Jesse and Cesar being the best retired hunters.

Baby X-File (2,698 words, rated T) Written for the final GISH hunt, a crossover scene between SPN and the X Files, canon-adjacent to both, to a prompt from my team captain who isn’t on tumblr... thank you Sammy!

honey wine  (764 words, rated T) annual deancasversary fic! They go to the rennfest, and medieval hilarity and fluff ensues

Heart Shaped Box  (43,504 words, rated M) my DCBB this year, canon case fic wherein Dean and Cas are the case. beautifully illustrated by @marvfortytwo​ and a cathartic walk through a series of memories. I mostly wanted to revisit . Set within days of Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty, because that’s exactly what happened in canon as we all know (I SAID, AS WE ALL KNOW).

The Ghost of Christmas Present(s) (3,121 words, rated T) annual holiday fic, Dean and Cas attempt holiday shopping together. hilarity and shmoop ensue.

And that’s my year in fic. Like I said at the top, I’ve already got more than half this total written to post in 2023, so it looks like I’m still not slowing down. Since I posted my To Be Written file’s stats last year, I figured I should do the same again...

lol... a year later, two pages and 1400 more words added... i swear at this rate i will never finish writing it all, which I find weirdly comforting.

Thanks to everyone who’s read, kudos’ed, commented, reblogged, rec’ed, and enjoyed anything I’ve written in the last year. I love you all. <3 See you in 2023!

[stedesparasol]

thank you @soupbtch for tagging me! 🥰

last song: be my baby - the ronettes

favorite color: uhhh like a lightish bright blue (azure???)

currently watching: assuming this means in general and not right this second, i'm on late season 3 of my x files rewatch, and thoroughly enjoying the new series of taskmaster every thursday

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet, i have the palate of a child and would live off chocolate if i could

relationship status: single

current obsessions: well you see there's this pirate show...

last thing I googled: 'samba schutte cameo' lmaoo i'm not getting one i just wanted to know the price so i could make a joke

[litwitlady]

I finished Wednesday and Daisy Jones. But I've added Yellowjackets and Shadow & Bone. It never ends.

I'm still rewatching Supernatural, TVD, and going through Doctor Who and Once Upon A Time for the first time.

Plus, I'm about to hop back into my X-Files rewatch and baseball is back on Thursday.

I can't keep up.

[adversecamber42]

New Beginnings

Well, Twitter has certainly turned into a new kind of Hellscape over the last week. I guess I’m going to be hanging around here a lot more!

As I’m not very good with Tumblr, I figured I’d introduce myself. I’m a writer of dark fantasy stories and am currently working on my first novel. I’m also one half of Things Are Getting Strange - an X-Files rewatch podcast. We post a new episode every Thursday and are currently about halfway through the first season.

In my free time, I enjoy video games, horror movies, and cosplay. I’ve recently finished playing all of the SoulsBorne games, and therefore am feeling a bit lost. If you can suggest a new obsession for me, I’m happy to take requests!

On top of that, I have some very weird pets. I mainly use my Instagram to talk about them, but I’m also likely to pop up the odd picture of my snake, frogs, or stag beetles!

If any of that sounds good, please feel free to give me a follow!

[bonesofapoet]

Lucifer in the Arms of Persephone

[ matt murdock x you ]

author’s note: why yes, i am rewatching daredevil and continuing to thirst over matt murdock without hesitation. swearing, a touch of religious trauma if you squint

word count: 1541

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 9:12 am, Tuesday.

“Hey. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Delete.

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 8:43 pm, Wednesday.

“Look- I know that was – is – a lot, but if you could just – I need to know how you’re doing. Please.”

A hesitation. Finger hovering over the little trashcan. Then, his voice spills through the speaker once more:

“At least call Karen or Foggy.”

Laughter, twisted, a huff of air from your lungs. Delete.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside the worn, wooden door of the place Daredevil came to ground. You chose this time of day with care: that liminal space before nightfall, that golden hour ushering the prime of day back to it’s cage barred with loneliness. Before night fell and the monsters came out to play, before devils ran across rooftops searching for that special someone to quench the thirst of blood spilled in the name of justice.

You wanted him to see you before he went hunting again.

A flare of pain, when knuckles met the door. The act was sharper, harsher than intended, the sting jarring you roughly, carelessly back into the present. Back into your body. The call of Matt’s voice brought you far away from the thoughts you explored the entirety of the train ride over, to this very spot you’ve stood a thousand times before.

Familiarity engulfed you, the warmth of moments similar to this one rushed you without call, without further warning they were arriving. The hallway seemed unseasonably warm, for this Thursday evening in the dead of winter.

Come in, he calls.

You do. The click of the door behind you feels finalized, somehow, like you’re trapped in this moment, this place. Yet, so very unwilling to fight to leave it, to abandon the future where it stands. Something whispers in your ear to let it be, shake the door open and never look back.

You don’t, though. You take a step forward. Another. Round the corner of the make-shift front hall, breath hitching when you see him.

He’s seated on the sofa, leather worn with time. Streams of honey amber sunlight spilled through dusty, dirty windows on it’s descent back into the underworld until the next morning. Pages are scattered before him on the coffee table – case files you imagine – his fingers caressing the raised words. He was hunched over them, even as you came closer. Noticed remnants of his work suit clinging to him like a lifeline, a drastic measure to remember his life on the right side of the law.

Hair disheveled, tie hanging loose and top buttons undone. He paused, when he heard your heart speed up, head turning faintly in your direction. His glasses were off; you could see his eyes.

“Was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

You halted just out of reach.

“I wondered the same thing.

He pulls his hands to his lap, inhales sharply. You watched, soundless. Moving to the chair opposite him crossed your mind – but your feet wouldn’t move, wouldn’t listen to the part of your mind that knew something you couldn’t. The part that didn’t care how much you missed Matthew Murdock, how beautiful he looked gilded in the last crying rays of the sunlight, like one of the holy saints he was supposed to revere.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t anymore, not really. He was too close to them now.

You simply stayed where you were, and waited.

“All right, let’s hear it.”

A beat. You blink. He says it so easily.

“What?”

He sighs – barely audible, but defeated nonetheless – reaches up to slide off his tie in one swift movement. Focus. His voice. . . he’s gentle, when he explains.

“Everyone always has something to say when they find out. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ ‘ how could you lie to me?’” a pause. His head turns away from you. “Just say what you came here to say.”

In that moment, you didn’t know which phrase to choose. He had spoken the ones recurring already, seemed to be taking this harder, almost, than you. And everything else. . .how could you possibly hold a grudge against this man, whose wrapped justice around kevlar tipped horns and commanded it to kneel, kneel before your devil.

Focus.

The feelings you held in the depths of your heart threatened to slip away, to crawl back under the crack of his front door and leave you, here, defenseless. Vulnerable, wholly, to someone you had begun to love, had never once made you feel anything short of the royalty he swore you once were, in another life, another time. They were so much more worthy of you than I ever will be, he said once, breath tickling across your collarbone, words soft and lost in your skin. You hadn’t understood what he really meant – but now, you supposed, it was this.

(Don’t even get started on how he too, resembles royalty in his own rite, in this moment. Prince of Nothing, yet regal in the exhaustion he bears in the face of threatening kingdoms to bring peace over what one day, may be his.)

Focus.

“If that’s the case,” came spilling from your lips, loud in the silence waiting. “Then I don’t really need to say anything, then, do I? If you’ve already heard it all before.”

True, he thinks, immediately. He just hasn’t heard it from you.

“If you need to say it-”

“Or do you need to hear it?”

A scoff, passive aggressive tumbles through his lips, twisted in biting bitterness he can’t seem to swallow. “Call it the Catholic in me.”

“Yeah,” you say, quiet in the silence that isn’t silent at all, actually. It’s stifling, the tension that grows. The biting draft blowing in through the windows does nothing to quell the burn growing steadily in your stomach, your heart, hands as they start to sweat. Though, you supposed, you hadn’t ever had a reason to be grateful for poor insulation until now. “You won’t find a reprieve from me today, though.”

“No?” he toys with the tie still in hand, asking for confirmation he already has, already read in the act of your arrival. The way you held yourself just out of his reach – well, that was more for your own sake than his. That you had come at all said enough, if he was being honest. About you. About him. About the both of you, together. Matt had learned you long ago – he just wanted to hear you say the words.

And you-

Focus.

The tilt of his shoulders, heavy from carrying the weight of so many worlds all at once. Hands, deft in weaving fabric around his fingertips in all the ways yours should be holding instead of his deception. Expression, expectant, open, defeated, as his head turns back in your direction. He knows you, he thinks, but not all the way through.

He doesn’t know you have secrets in the dark, too.

“No, Matt. You know why I’m really here.”

A smirk. Hand running through his hair, disheveled enough as it is. Tie slipping through his fingers to fall, dragging your resolve – and Matt’s – gracelessly along with it.

“Say it.”

His mask slips – briefly, and, admittedly, you’re unsure which one – and you’re moving closer. Farther and farther away from the whispers urging you still, to turn and leave and don’t you dare return. Don’t look back. Please, darling, don’t go playing with devils, not now-

Except the tension rises, the sun has almost cowered behind the skyline with the last rays of light clawing their way through the windows for one last parting punch to your chest. One last memory longing to be held, dearly tight, when your steps take you around the coffee table. Matt, still gilded golden Lucifer incarnate, pushes paperwork off the sofa. It’s loud, but he made room for you by his side, easy as breathing.

He’s a fallen angel, not a saint. You don’t hesitate to tell him that doesn’t make him a monster. His hands are in yours now, and you realize you mean that. As truly as you believe in the air you breathe, in the blood flowing through your heart, your soul, in the blood that drowns the damage done with a heavy weight now added to your shoulders.

Matt feels a little lighter, with your admission. He laughs low and warm when you say you’re still mad, though, you still lied you fucking prick.

That’s fair. I can live with that.

Your head falls to his shoulder, heavier than it was a moment ago.

“Stay in tonight,” a suggestion, a salve over the wound still gaping wide open between you. “At least until I fall asleep?”

It’s foolish to ask this every night, but surely the devil can feed elsewhere, every so often?

Sun fallen. Moon on the rise. Sounds of nightlife in Hell’s Kitchen begin to sing Daredevil’s song. It weaves through the walls in screams and sirens and safety clicking off, on, off, on. A hand slid to grip your thigh, a kiss falling to your forehead. “Yeah,” his voice, reassuring. His words, caught on your crown. “I’ll stay with you all night.”

He wondered if he would be forgiven when he began to falter under the weight of all his sins.

[scullysexual]

X-Files Rewatch Series; Squeeze

| saturday | rewatching the series | season 1 | scully’s diary | squeeze | words: 365 | click the title for the ao3 link | doodles by @burritoscully​ everything else belongs to me | in a collaboration with @burritoscully​. Please check out her addition to this episode when posted | Deep Throat | fic reposted |

@today-in-fic @mypanicface

- - -

Always Have Your Back

Her fingers soothe over the spot where the bile had fallen on her wrist, the faint yellow stain making her stomach turn.

A bag half-packed sits beside her. Outside, she can hear the commotion of officers as they take Mulder’s statement, similar to the one she gave them a few minutes ago.

It was Scully’s first experience having her home be violated and invaded like that. It made her skin crawl to recall it.

A soft knock against the bedroom door has her standing from her bed, continuing with her task of packing.

“Come in,” she gently calls.

Mulder appears looking around sheepishly, looking out of place.

“They’ve arrested Tooms,” he tells her. “He’s been charged for all the murders; 30s, 60s, now and he’s been charged for assault on a federal officer.”

Assault…the word rings in her ears.

“Good,” Scully says flatly.

She wonders if she should thank him. Is it expected of her to thank her partner for having her back or is it just a given?

“Mulder,” she calls, turning around and catching him before he leaves. “I’m glad I now know I can depend on you to have my back.”

He smiles, looking slightly bewildered.

“Of course, Scully. Your my partner, your safety in these investigations are paramount to me.”

She smiles, warmed by the confession.

“As is yours,” she responds in kind.

“Well,” says Mulder rubbing his hands on his pants. “Baltimore PD wants to take our official statements at the station. You ready?”

Scully nods, packing the final few items into the bag.

“I just need to change.”

“Of course.”

Mulder leaves, closing the door behind him. Scully peels off her clothes, shoving them into a plastic bag and hiding them from sight in her closet.

When she exits, Mulder is waiting for her. She eyes the area of the attack wondering if she’ll ever be able to stand there against without associating it with that event.

Mulder catches her staring.

“I promise to do all in my power not to make this a regular thing.”

Scully smiles, thinking if that is really something he was capable of promising but she says nothing, simply following him out the door.

Thursday, 21st May.

My first attack in my home. I felt violated, my space felt violated. Will I ever be able to walk in and not think about what happened? Mulder promised he would do all he could for it not to become a regular thing. Could he really promise such a thing? Anyway, it was good to know he has my back. Regardless of our differences, of my position, we’re partners and I believe partners should have each other’s backs.

[bigfootwrites]

Masterlist [week 4]

Please forget that I forgot week 3.

Sunday 24th to Friday 29th January.

Every Saturday I’m going to be compiling weekly masterlists with both tumblr links and ao3 links. This will include all fics I’ve written within the week.

Sunday 24th January.

Sunday 100 word dialogue prompt challenge. Prompt 3: Please don’t leave me --- I don’t want to go. 100 words. Angst. Every Sunday I’ll be posting 100 word randomised prompts taken from a different prompt list to 100 days of prompts. [AO3]

Monday 25th January.

100 days of 100 dialogue prompts. Prompt 43: I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. 259 words. Monster’s Inc AU. Mulder and Scully come up with a way to sneak the alien back into the Hoover Building. [AO3]

Tuesday 26th January.

100 days of 100 dialogue prompts. Prompt 44: I don’t want to think of what I’d be like without you. 175 words. Post ep: The Truth. Bittersweet fluff. Just a conversation during the bed scene. [AO3]

Wednesday 27th January.

Scullysexual’s X-Files Rewatch. Episode 2: Deep Throat. Title: Lights In The Sky. Every Wednesday I’ll be posting a short fic inspired by the most recent episode I have watched. [AO3]

Thursday 28th January.

Part 2 for the Untitled College AU fic. After the events of the bar, Mulder and Scully realise they need to talk about their problems rather than just ignoring them. Mature. College AU. [AO3]

Friday 29th January.

Part 3 to the Untitled College AU fic. Mulder and Scully try something new. Explict. College AU. BDSM. [AO3]

@today-in-fic

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[vuillard]

should i rewatch the x files everytime i say that i make it exactly three episodes in and stop because i am terrible at watching tv shows that aren’t just people falling in love or being stupid. should i take another edible. i saw titane for thé third time today because im crazy but i think i finally broke the spell well not entirely but like enough that maybe i can think about other things like seeing this movie lamb on thursday

[thursdayinspace]

So much to say about the Duane Barry episodes and Scully's abduction, but mostly I find it amazing how much relationship development they managed to pack into a handful of episodes that Scully is barely in at all. It's already set up nicely: the hostage negotiation, Mulder being frustrated because first he's asked to help and then has to find out they're withholding information from him. Once again, he's not being taken seriously; he has to turn to Scully again even though they're not even partners anymore. He still relies on her, she's still the only one he can really trust. She comes all the way out there with the information she digs up when she can't reach him. She talks into his ear to help him resolve the situation. Afterwards, when they find that implant in Duane Barry, they try to figure that out together as well. As we've seen throughout all the episodes before, they fall back into their partnership easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world for them. And then she's abducted and everything falls apart. That's where it really picks up and it becomes clear that everything up to this point has been little more than a (very well done and important) prologue.

Mulder's silence at the beginning of "Ascension" is almost frightening. It's certainly intense. Somewhere between withdrawn and hyperfocused, with a good dose of fear mixed in. He tells Scully's mother that she's not in her apartment, and after that we don't hear him speak again until a good way into the conversation in Skinner's office the next morning, a good five minutes into the episode even though he's in every scene before then. And when he barely puts up a fight when Skinner tells him to go home, you know he's going rogue. He does not trust them to find Scully, and he certainly can't sit and wait while she's out there with Duane Barry.

He pushes himself beyond his limits, almost falling asleep at the wheel but refusing to let Krycek drive -- he doesn't give up the tiniest sliver of control. When the tram operator won't let them take the tram up the mountain, Mulder has no problem showing him his gun. He pushes the tram beyond safety limits. Does his acrobatics out in the open who knows how high up in the air -- risking his life -- after Krycek stops the tram.

And holy shit the way he loses it when he spots Scully's blood and hair on Duane Barry's hospital band is truly scary, I don't think we've ever seen him that angry before. But on second thought, maybe angry is the wrong word. He's acting out of fear and panic. I don't think even an angry Mulder would choke anyone. He isn't thinking straight anymore, his responses are almost primal at this point. He hasn't slept, he's running on adrenaline, he's no closer to finding Scully and now he knows she's injured.

Finding out about Krycek, Skinner reopening the x files . . . it all seems almost secondary. Not as important as his meeting with Scully's mother and her telling him to keep the cross necklace. He didn't have anyone this entire time to lean on or to talk to. And he still doesn't, but this is the closest he gets. He and Scully's mom are in similar places. For them, this is personal. I love that they're bonding over this, over their love for Scully and their worry about her. (Whatever meaning you want to read into the word "love" between Mulder and Scully at this point.)

The beginning of "One Breath" is so intense, Mulder running into that room in the hospital to find her lying there unconscious, hooked up to a respirator. Anger fueled by blind panic. "Who brought her here?" "How did she get here?" "Who did this to her?" "Listen, if you’re hiding anything, I swear, I will do anything, whatever it takes, I will find out what they did to her!" I love the scene and I absolutely love the way it's acted, big thumbs up to DD. Getting her back could have been the emotional release of that arc, but she comes back in a coma. It spikes the angst to a whole new level. Before, he didn't know whether she was okay or not, he could hold onto hope. Now he knows she's not okay. Getting her back does not let him finally sit down and take a deep breath and process any of it. Nothing is resolved, the fight is just taken elsewhere.

I just want to take a second to think about the fact that he sigend her living will as her witness. That is. A very intimate thing to do. And that moment needs to get the credit it deserves. Knowing that they have talked about the event of her being unable to decide for herself, knowing she let him in, let him sign it, and the fact that he did it? That is a huge HUGE thing.

What is really intriguing is that Mulder and Melissa clash in the way they do, because you'd expect them to get along. I wonder if they would have gotten along better had they met under different circumstances. But here, Mulder is in a very different place. He tends to go to extremes when the stakes are high, his single-minded focus in this moment doesn't allow for anything but action. He still believes he can do something. He doesn't even go in with them when they decide to pull the plug -- he refuses to accept a reality where she dies. We see that again in the cancer arc, where he tells her as much when she tells him her cancer is untreatable.

If anyone would go to the trouble of putting together a list of the top ten most heartbreaking moments from the entire show, Mulder's visit to CSM and the way his voice breaks when he asks "Why her?" would have to be on it. "Why her and not me?" It's the way he says it, but it's also what's in that question that makes it so heartbreaking. Because that's what it all boils down to. He feels guilty. He asked in the hospital "Who did this to her?" And throughout these episodes, in his head, he has always considered that person to be himself. He did this to her. Something we get to hear again and again all the way into the revival when he tells her he wishes she'd left that basement earlier so she'd have been spared from all the things that happened to her. He feels responsible.

(Just a short digression: He is not responsible. I feel like that's a very important thing to remember. Something her brother should have been told in the cancer arc too. Holding Mulder responsible robs Scully of all agency and makes her nothing more than a loyal puppy. But unpacking Bill Jr.'s implicit misogyny, and why the way Mulder feels responisble for everything is not the same thing, that is for another post. If anyone has thoughts on that though, I'd love to hear them.)

A real Mulder moment is him choosing not to take revenge on the men responsible for Scully's abduction, after X pretty much hand-delivers them to him on a silver tray, but rather to go to the hospital after Melissa tells him it might be his last chance, that Scully is dying. He will choose Scully over everything every time. Sitting at her bedside, taking her hand, the way he speaks to her -- it becomes clear how deep the feelings go but also how fragile and undefined it all is between them. They're friends, they're partners, they've flirted, they've told each other some of their deepest secrets, and he has no idea how to be around her now. "I don’t know if my being here . . . will help bring you back. But I’m here." His pause there before "will help bring you back" kills me. He honestly has no idea. He can hope, but he just doesn't know if he'd be a contributing factor in her decision to come back or move on, if she even hears him, if it's even in her control. (I've always wondered when he says in the revival that he invented wishing someone back to life when she was in the hospital, whether he was talking about her cancer or about this moment, or maybe both.)

He gets his breakdown once he comes back home to his destroyed apartment. Sliding down the wall crying -- such a moment. There's no anger in that anymore. No action. He expects to be losing her at that point and all the fight has left him. Until he gets the phone call that she's okay.

Could the episode have benefited from a slightly longer scene at the end? Maybe. It seems a bit anticlimactic, after all he's been through, that he walks into her room, gives her that silly tape (such a Mulder thing to do), hands her the cross necklace back, and that's pretty much it. On the other hand, considering the scene by her bedside before, maybe it fits. He doesn't know where he stands with her, and she's with her family.

I do think the ending is a bit abrupt, but that can easily be forgiven with all that those episodes provided before that. If anyone can see more in that ending than I do, I'd love to hear it because I really don't quite know what to make of it. But they seriously sent Mulder on a journey there, and it worked. And it sets so many things in motion, for the plot and for their relationship.

[frangipanidownunder]

When did you first start watching The X Files? And when did you start writing fic for it?

I started watching when it premiered on free to air tv in the UK which I think was 1994. I used to watch with my dad and brother, BBC 2, Thursday nights. My mum was too scared, lol. It was a special time.

I got married in 1996 and remember watching with Mr F. I have very vivid memories of the Triangle kiss and the frustration! When I moved to Australia in 2001, I had been watching season 8 or 9 maybe, when they suddenly just started showing repeats mid seadon. I remember watching Ice and thinking, wow, this is old. The summer tv schedule is all repeats here, unlike the UK back then. Anyway, some time later they advertised The Truth starring 'Australia's own' Alan Dale. Turned out he was a dude from Neighbours who played the alien judge called out by Gibson. Like he had five minutes air play. So cringe. I forgot about the show until IWTB when I saw that movie on video. I felt it was too slow and Mulder's beard was hinky and Scully's accent was dodgy. 😁 It wasn't until 2014 that I did a series rewatch with my kids and then the revival was announced.

I wrote my first fanfic in 2015, pre-revival, based on spoilers about the break-up. I didn't write another until a year later, when I joined Tumblr and started the weekly @xfficchallenges. Been writing ever since. 😊

Thanks for the ask, lovely.

[youremyonlyhope]

Exit Wounds

AKA ...Nah, that’s the best title for it. Some characters make an exit, and I am forever wounded.

I have the urge to watch this episode, and I know that if I don’t watch it now I’ll put it off for another year. And I don’t want to do that since I would rather watch it this week.

LOL and remember how when I started this Torchwood rewatch in August 2015 I said “Torchwood takes literally no time to get through.” but then I ended up stretching out 2 seasons to nearly 3 years? And I still have to get through Children of Earth again at some point in my life.

Ok actually as I think about this episode and what happens I really don’t want to watch it. Why am I doing this to myself? I want to rewatch it before Blind Wave posts their reaction on Thursday so that’s why I’m doing it now. But pressing play is really really really really really hard.

Major spoilers. Though if you’re reading this you know that.

I’m holding my Adipose that I crocheted and named after Owen. Here we go. I hate everything.

OH my god I’m dead, Amazon’s description of the episode starts with “Captain John Hart (James Marsters - Buffy) returns” that kills me.

OH NO I CAN’T REMEMBER IF CHILDREN OF EARTH HAS THE SAME OPENING SINCE I ONLY EVER WATCHED THAT SEASON ONE TIME. IS THIS THE LAST TIME WE EVER SEE THE ORIGINAL OPENING? WHY DID THEY KILL OFF OWEN AND TOSH WHO’S BRIGHT IDEA WAS THAT CHRIS CHIBNALL I HATE YOU. My sweet Torchwood babies walking towards the camera looking all dramatic. I love them so much. I miss them so much. Owen helping Tosh walk. Just kill me. Oh poor Rhys is still a little out of the loop. Oh I love Captain John Hart so much. My chaotic baby. He didn’t make the explosives efficient on purpose. And he asks if they were ok. He cares. Jack. Notice that he genuinely cares. He’s not messing with you. Is it bad that I always laugh when Captain John shoots Jack a billion times? Seeing Burn and Naoko’s names on the opening credits for the last time... I’m in pain.

Rhys: I’m keeping more secrets than you’d ever believe. Andy: Oh yeah, like what? Rhys: Like a Time Agency based in Cardiff. Gwen: It’s not based in Cardiff.

I love that so much. Tosh is walking through the shelves of this building the same way she did in Fragments looking for the blueprints. Cinematic parallels. Making me more emotional... Are there other parallels that I just never noticed? Now I gotta keep an eye out for them. I love that they just shoot them down and Tosh goes “Sorted.” My girl. I love her so much. A Hoix? Did that alien have a name in Doctor Who Love and Monsters? Cool to know its name now. I just wish that they didn’t have to send the man who can’t heal to go deal with an alien threat on his own though. The way he said “Wish me luck” my baby I love him. And the way he raised his eyebrows after sedating it. I love Owen. See I can’t tell if John is serious about his “You have all of time but you don’t spend any with me” speech or if it’s just what Gray wants him to say. Probably a bit of both, he probably does feel that way on some level. I bet everyone Jack ever fell in love with has. I love that when rewatching, you can tell John’s regret bleeds through a bit. Night fell in 20 minutes... is Cardiff at the latitude where night starts to fall quickly? I just realized that while Tosh is talking on the comms about rift activity, for a second her voiceover overlaps a shot of her and Ianto, and you can see she’s not talking. Telephone and radio down again. Just like in Sleeper. Captain John trying to spare him the pain of seeing Gray. Rhys’ proud smile at Gwen leading. Awwwww. Been thinking it for years... but Gray’s actor... is not the best... I think it’s his voice, it’s all one tone, not much emotion in the voice. Really the only weakness in this episode. God my poor baby Jack. Prior to Heaven Sent, this was the worst thing I ever had to watch one of my babies go through. 2000 years of dying by suffocation over and over again. But then the Doctor did it for 4 billion years but whatever. At least the Doctor didn’t remember doing it each time while he was doing it, he only remembered afterwards. Jack was awake for all 2000 years of dying and remembers it all. Ugh John tearing off the vortex manipulator along with skin. Oh god not the Weevils. “Ianto. Leave it to me” AND NOW OWEN GOES TO HIS DEATH. I HATE EVERYTHING. SO MUCH. OWEN, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE KING OF THE WEEVILS!? I was just thinking “John should really wrap up that wound...” so I’m glad he actually did. I love that John calling the Weevils pests isn’t even a joke. Weevils are literally the pests of Cardiff. And now Tosh is standing in the location of the cause of her death too. Great. This is all so great. Fantastic. Amazing. I’m not crying you’re crying. This episode is so fun. This lady at the nuclear plant is amazing. Amazon doesn’t credit her in the X-Ray thing though. Shame on you, Amazon. My baby spewing off nuclear science. I love Owen. Owen giving her the mace and telling her to go. I love him. I love him so much. My love. My heart. My baby. “Right. Can you fix it?” “Of course I can, I’m brilliant.” YES YOU ARE GIRL. YES. YOU. ARE. That confidence. That character development. Going from “Knowing I’m special. Waiting for someone to see it.” pre-Torchwood to “Of course I can, I’m brilliant.” at the end. MY. GIRL. Full circle. Wow I want to die. She’s been shot. I hate Gray with every molecule of my being. “Tosh talk to me, I need your help here, babe.” Wow I’m in pain. He called her babe. I wonder how long he’d been doing that. She’s rolling down the steps. Leaving a trail of blood. I hate this show.

Ok. Wait. In 100 years did no one really ever wonder what was in body vault #3? It has no label. I’m sure someone at some point had to have opened it up, seen Jack, been like “...but Jack’s out on a mission... how is he... NOPE I don’t want to know.” and closed it up again. Or maybe there are instructions to never disturb vault #3, that it’s a dangerous alien or something. Or maybe there’s information in a file like Tommy’s saying “This person is frozen until 2008. Just let it be. Don’t worry.” What is the story there? I need to rewatch episodes and see if vault #3 has a label.

Amazon’s X-Ray feature tells me this former Torchwood member’s name is Charles Glaskell. A black man in Torchwood in 1901? I want to know HIS story. Yeah, Jack, you may forgive him, and that forgiveness comes from hundreds (now thousands) of years of guilt over letting go of his hand, but I don’t. I don’t forgive him. I never will. Did Jack have to say to Torchwood “Yeah so set the alarm for this day at this time. Oh also, give me a napkin with chloroform on it. Just cuz.” And did he guess the time? Because he could have woken up like 30 minutes earlier and saved everyone. I know Jack does stuff for the drama, but I’m assuming this time it wasn’t to be dramatic. I really hope he didn’t go “Let me just... tell them a half hour later... so I can be fashionably late to saving the world.” He probably just got the time slight wrong. Owen immediately asking if she’s ok. Because he knows the only thing to keep her from helping him would be if something happened to her. And Tosh lying about it. I am in pain. This is the beginning of the most painful 10 minutes I’ve had to live through in a show. She takes a moment to make a slight joke “Obviously, remember to get out.” whether to make light of the situation or convince him everything’s ok. I’m in so much pain. “And Tosh, thank you.” Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. God if only Owen hadn’t taken the couple seconds to look at all the screens and dials and stuff and just ran once she said “Owen, get out of there.” “Because you’re breaking my heart.” Knowing that Naoko filmed the entirety of this scene in one take... and that it was the last thing filmed for season 2... makes everything hurt so much more. “I’m sorry.” coming from Mr. “I Don’t Do Apologies” means so much wow this show is painful. Tosh, you’ve been shot, you have a broken arm, and you are alone. You couldn’t have stopped it. I hate that she blames herself. Stupid Space Pig. The date. The stupid date. The date that didn’t happen and tears my heart out when I think about it. Stupid Owen being oblivious. Stupid Tosh being shy. Stupid what-his-face (5 years later I refuse to give him the respect of learning his name) shooting Owen barely hours after he says yes to the date. Stupid Owen’s post-resurrection-depression getting in the way. Stupid Gray. Stupid weevils. Stupid nuclear plant. STUPID EVERYTHING. IT’S NOT ALRIGHT. OWEN IT’S NOT ALRIGHT. And now she’s delirious. Lost the will to live. Lost the will to keep fighting. She was fighting for Owen, and couldn’t save him because of Gray. She’s smiling. She still blames herself. She’s dying and she’s blaming herself for what happened to Owen. She smiled at Jack. Jack saved her. Her 5 years were either already up or almost up. She either was about to be free of their deal, or was free and chose to stay with Jack anyway. She loved Jack so much, and he loved her so much. Wow I am in so much pain. I’m holding Owen the Adipose. This hurts. “Maybe killing him would be the release he needs.” Listen to John. “There has been enough death.” Ok Jack I’ll let you have that. So then what happened to Gray when the Hub exploded in Children of Earth? If he died I don’t care. I’m more concerned about the whereabouts of Myfanwy and Janet post-Hub-explosion than Gray. Is John not from Earth? Maybe he was born on a human colony on another planet... Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid Owen’s Theme is playing and Ianto’s logging him out and that stupid picture taken during They Keep Killing Suzie is on the screen and my baby is gone and I hate everything. 1980. Baby was barely 28. He should be 38 right now. But he’s not. I’m not crying. But I’m making various groaning sounds at each thing Ianto types or clicks and at Jack holding the stethoscope and hugging the lab coat. The stupid lab coat. With his stupid buttons. Jack’s crying. I’m squeezing Owen the Adipose probably too hard. Gwen’s cleaning off Tosh’s desk and crying. Ianto’s logging Tosh out. Everything is hurting. Wait. It says Tosh was born in 1981. But Mary said some time in the 70s. Torchwood. Get your act together. Uggggghhhhhhhhhh her glasses she wasn’t wearing them when she died her purple glasses why. “I hope I did good.” Tosh. Tosh, you did the most good. You did more good than anyone else in this stupid team. Even when you did the wrong things, you still did good things with them (Mary’s stupid pendant). Tosh. Tosh Tosh Tosh Tosh Tosh. Oh my girl Tosh. Oh Tosh.

We all agree that Torchwood is the worst show every created right? I mean, it tore out our hearts. So we hate it. We love it. But we hate it. Torchwood literally ruined my life.

So. Exit Wounds. Wow. I am hurting. I didn’t cry. I don’t think I’ve cried over this episode since the first time I watched it. And even then I only shed 2 tears: 1 when Tosh died, and the other when Tosh’s goodbye video came up.

Of course Tosh would make a goodbye video. She thinks of everything. She is my girl. She is incredible. She is brilliant. She is better than all of us. And she loves them all so much that she wanted to make sure they knew it. In case she didn’t get the chance to tell them one last time. She was so good. She was beyond good. She was the best. She deserved the entire world. She deserved everything and more.

Owen. Oh my Owen. Owen did not deserve this. Owen going out like that is the worst thing. He deserved as long of a half-life as that stupid Duroc energy would have allowed him. He might still be in that stupid nuclear plant as sentient atoms. We don’t know. He deserved to scream and rage his way into oblivion. But he stopped because he didn’t want to hurt Tosh. He didn’t even know she was dying! And he still wanted to comfort her through his death because he knew how much it would hurt her. That she loved him, and he loved her, and even if they couldn’t be romantic they were still close friends. And he apologized. At least 3 times. He never apologizes. And he did it. Over and over again. He confessed that he wished they had gotten that date, that he was too stupid to realize until it was too late. That she deserved better than having to constantly look out for him from literally day one. Better than him being rude to her all the time. And he accepted his death. Said it was alright. It was not alright. It was no where near alright. Owen is my favorite character of all time. I was so devastated over his death that I named the Adipose I had been crocheting at the time after him. Because I needed comfort.

Chibnall. If you can tear my heart out like this in Torchwood, I am hoping you can do the same in Doctor Who. Don’t let me down. I trust you.

When Gwen says “I don’t know if I can. Not after this.” I always think “Same.” Because once again, I nearly didn’t press play on Season 3. I didn’t want to go on. But I did. It just took a lot. I’m glad I watched Children of Earth since it introduced me to Peter Capaldi. And he gives an amazing performance. So when 3 months later his name was thrown out in speculation for being the 12th Doctor, I said “Yes. I want him. He’d be a good Doctor.” and he was. So I’m glad I kept watching Season 3. If only for Capaldi.

Welp. Nearly 3 years later I’ve finally reached Exit Wounds. I feel dead inside and exhausted. I might go to bed. Wasn’t planning on going to bed right away, but when I’m sad I get sleeping. Sadness exhausts me (see: my post for To the Last Man when my grandma called towards the end and screamed at me for yawning and not getting enough sleep [even though that’s true] when I was actually yawning because the episode was so sad that it was exhausting me). This episode is great. But it ruined me. It still ruins me. I’ve never recovered. 5 years. Still haven’t recovered. I say I never stopped crying over this episode, I just stopped shedding tears; I’m still crying over it on the inside. Exit Wounds is the perfect title.

I can’t wait for Blind Wave to post their reaction to this episode on Thursday. They adore Tosh as much as I do. It’s going to break them. The thought of getting to see them become as broken from this episode as am I was what kept me going during the sad parts of this episode. I know it’s horrible, but I love seeing people be ruined by this episode. Because I get it. I’m ruined too.

Torchwood ruined me.

Bonus! Here’s a picture of Owen the Adipose in all his adorable, chubby, cuddly glory:

Literally the only thing keeping me sane. Being able to squeeze him during this.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

locking out the ghosts (chapter 2 of six)

chapter one

s5 fic: spoilers for schizogeny, chinga and kill switch, part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files. 

the chapter count changed mostly bc this is getting too long for its own good. it might be subject to change again! this is turning into a little monster

Skinner keeps Mulder late after their meeting the next day. Scully waits for him outside the office, and he still won't look at her when he exits. He hasn't really looked at her since last night at the warehouse. He walks right past her. Scully sighs, goes to Skinner's door and taps on the door. “Sir? Could I have a quick word?”

Skinner adjusts his glasses and motions her in. “What is it?”

She folds her hands in front of her formally. “I'd like to request some vacation time, actually. A couple days off before the weekend after next. Thursday and Friday.”

Approval flickers over Skinner's face. “I think we could arrange that. You could use it after… after everything that's happened. You must have nearly a month of vacation time saved up.”

“Not based on recent circumstances,” she says quietly, thinking of her time off after her remission and the two days after Emily.

Skinner looks her in the eye. “Medical leave is different from vacation time. Take the extra days, Agent. You deserve it. Do you think you'll be able to stick out the next couple of weeks?”

She clenches and unclenches her jaw, tries not to growl her reply of, “I'll be fine.”

Skinner nods, picking up his pen. “You're dismissed, Agent. Keep an eye on Mulder. I'm worried about him.”

---

By all outside appearances, though, Skinner has no cause for worry. They are both pretending they're fine. Like Scully's daughter didn't just die. Like Mulder didn't watch his partner die and almost kill her. They work on paperwork. Mulder goes out to pick up lunch, Scully eats a salad and a little container of yogurt. They talk to each other only when they have to, and even then it's overly polite. They're hiding from each other, the psychologist in Mulder points out. He ignores it.

Days later, there is a case in Michigan with an apple orchard, with living trees. They go on pretending everything is fine. He flirts with her—just a little, no more than he usually would if it was before Florida—and she doesn't comment, doesn't protest, just rolls her eyes a little. It feels almost like before, like normal. If he ignores the nightmares, it almost is. (Her dead. The things he's said to her, the things she's said to him. Emily with blue, blank, unseeing eyes, the same as Scully's. The nightmares are the worst part.) It feels like if they don't confront the problem, it doesn't exist. But then again, that's the way it's always been with them.

The case closes, Scully digs him out of the mud he finds himself trapped in up to his chest. He can't stop looking at the dirt trapped beneath her fingernails as they drive back to the hotel. She'd brushed her hands over him when he'd crawled out, brushed his hair back and smudged mud across his face like war paint, asked if he was okay in a hushed voice. He shivers now, turning up the heat. He wants to say that he that is is not hers to comfort, but he will always be hers. If she wants him.

They pull into the motel parking lot and climb out of their car. Scully pulls at her jacket with frustration. “I can't wait to take a shower,” she groans. “Next time, Mulder, warn me so I can wear some old clothes.”

“You'd think you'd have learned that by now, Scully,” he says. She smiles, bending her head, hair hiding her face. He smiles a little, too. “Hey, thanks for… pulling me out of the mud earlier,” he adds, touching her gently on the shoulder.

Her shoulders scrunch up under his fingers. “Of course, Mulder,” she says. “We're partners.”

He swallows uncomfortably. “Right.” He brushes a hand down her elbow before turning away and inserting his room key. “G’night, Scully.”

“Good night, Mulder,” she replies quietly.

Later, he wakes up from a nightmare (Scully not breathing, bleeding, gun in his hand), shoving at blankets, reaching for someone who isn't there. Scully was crying out, in his dream, and that was what woke him up. Scully is crying out, he realizes, kicking the blankets away and rolling out of bed, and he's halfway across the room before he hears what she is saying. “No, please… please don't take her,” she is saying furiously, tearfully.

Tears spring to Mulder's eyes as he stands on the rug, sheets tangled around his leg. In other circumstances, he might go through the conjoining door and wake her up, but he's not sure if that's what Scully wants now. Instead, he stumbles across the room, yanks open the closet and slams it hard.

Scully yelps on the other side of the wall as she wakes up. Mulder runs his hand over his face, pulls the sheets away and walks back to bed. “Mulder, are you okay?” Scully calls back through the door, her voice thick with tears.

“Yeah,” he calls back, voice just as thick. “Tripped over something.”

Quiet on the other side of the wall—or maybe she's being too quiet for him to hear. He pulls the mounds of covers over himself and doesn't think.

---

The Michigan case happens over a weekend, and the next weekend is the weekend Scully asked for days off on. She warns Mulder that she is planning to be out of town that Thursday and Friday the Wednesday beforehand so that he has less time to try and talk her out of it. She doesn't tell him she asked for those days off weeks ago; she makes it sound like she just thought of it, like he should do it, too. “I think we could both use some time to ourselves,” she says. “Why not take the weekend for some recuperation?”

Mulder seems to be considering, tapping a pen against the table. “You're going out of town this weekend?”

“Yes, I'm flying up to Maine,” Scully says matter-of-factly. Melissa told her once that it's beautiful up there.

He considers further, staring at the table top, rolling the pen back and forth between his hands. “I think it's a good idea, Scully,” he says finally. “I think you could use a vacation.”

He calls her the very next day, when she's arriving in Maine. She should've known. She should've known it wouldn't last. He calls under the guise of wanting to talk about a “classic” X-File, but he's clearly bored, goading her into talking about the statistics of decapitation while talking on the phone while driving, and she politely hangs up on him. And runs straight into an X-File of her own. (Of course she does; she is turning into the woman from Murder, She Wrote. Her life is like a bad TV show.)

She calls Mulder the second time, to ask about the phenomenon she's seeing. He's startlingly unhelpful, outside of asking her to marry him in a breathy tone. She blinks, says, “I was hoping for something a little more helpful,” and pretends she didn’t consider saying yes for a millisecond. Half of a millisecond. She's used to the flirting, but it stings a little now. She regrets breaking up with him sometimes, misses him sometimes.

And definitely doesn't other times. She ends up deeper and deeper into the X-File, to her ultimate irritation aside. Mulder calls twice, and each time is vastly more unhelpful than the last. Between the doll case (an evil doll, really?) and Mulder's annoying phone calls punctuating the hours, she barely gets any actual time to relax. The one bright side (sort of) is Captain Jack Bonsaint, her temporary colleague, who is tripping over his own feet in attempts to be sweet, flirting just a little. It feels almost nice.

She sets a doll on fire on Friday. The mother goes to the hospital, the daughter refusing to leave her side, and Scully heads back to her hotel. She tries not to think about Melissa and Polly Turner and does anyway, thinks about how the little girl forgot her doll as soon as she saw her mother hurt, yelled, “I want to stay with Mommy!” at all the paramedics. Melissa. Mommy.

Scully downs two sleeping pills and goes to bed.

Saturday, Jack calls her up and asks her to dinner. She twirls the cord around her finger, considers it for a second. It might be nice. Jack is sweet. He's not Mulder, but they did manage to solve this case. She had a nice time with him. But that wasn't her intention in coming up here. She’s not looking for a relationship, especially not with random people she met in Maine. (Besides, she’ll never see him again after this weekend.) “I'm sorry, Jack, but I really need some time to myself,” she says. He's nice about it, telling her to let him know if she wanted someone to show her around. She thanks him and hangs up the phone, unplugs it so it is silent from there on out. She spends the rest of the weekend in the blissful silence she'd pictured, takes long baths and reads books and tries to forget.

---

After Maine, it's easier to pretend the things that haunt her dreams at night aren't real during the day. She keeps Emily’s picture in her wallet but almost never takes it out. She throws herself in work (distractions, anything for a distraction) and doesn't think of her sister or her daughter who looks like her sister. She doesn't think about it; she's getting good at that. And Mulder doesn't mention it, or their failed attempt at a relationship.

There's a shootout in a diner. Scully gets the call sometime after midnight, pulls on a wool coat and treks out into the chilled February air. It's just as well; she wasn't getting any sleep anyway.

Among the dead, Mulder identifies Donald Gelman, Silicon Valley folk hero. His theory is that the shootout was a staged hit, steals Gelman's laptop and finds a CD of Twilight Time inside. Scully follows him to the Gunmen, where they find the shipping container in Gelman's email, where they find Invisigoth. A supposed artificial intelligence blows the storage container. Invisigoth—or more accurately, Esther Nairn—claims that Twilight Time is the kill switch that will make sure the AI will deactivate. Scully thinks it's a load of horseshit. Mulder and the Gunmen latch onto the story eagerly, of course, and Mulder runs off to find the home base of the AI. Scully stays back with Esther and the Gunmen.

She makes the mistake of falling asleep on the couch and wakes up to Esther gone, Esther right around the corner with a gun. Being essentially kidnapped by a snarky computer geek isn't the worst of her problems at the moment, but it's still pretty irritating. Esther handcuffs her to the steering wheel and directs her to David Markham’s residence. Esther doesn't particularly strike her as malicious, so she's more annoyed than worried. Esther clearly doesn't know anything about this; she leaves the handcuff key in her coat slung across the car seat while she goes to check out the rubble of David’s house. Amatuer. Scully manages to get the key and unlock the cuffs just before Esther gets back to the car, sobbing into her hands. Meticulously, Scully begins to reach for the gun.

Esther snatches it and turns to point it at her. “Go ahead! Put me out of my misery!” she sobs. Scully is briefly surprised, sympathy coming in underneath it. “Take it!” Esther insists.

Scully takes the gun before putting a hand on her shoulder. “It's okay,” she tries, a little stiffly.

Esther sniffles, wiping her eyes. “Not to point out the obvious, but I don't think any of this is very okay,” she says bitterly, waving her hand at the ruins.

Scully squeezes her shoulder, sliding the gun into her holster with her free hand. Esther sniffles again, takes a shaky breath before holding out her wrists. “I guess I'm under arrest again,” she mutters. “Doesn't matter now, if David’s…”

Scully considers this for half a minute. Reconsiders. “I think we can be done with the… handcuffing,” she replies. “I think we have a similar goal at this point. But I'm keeping the gun.”

Esther takes another deep breath, meets her eyes and gives her a grateful nod. Then she turns and gets out of the car. Scully opens the door and follows her to the edge of the rubble.

“I lied to you,” Esther says as they walk. “I wasn’t working with Donald. I mean, I was, and then he found out about us.”

“About you and who?” Scully asks.

“David,” Esther says, still sniffling a little. “About our plans.”

“What plans did he find out?”

“Uploading,” Esther says miserably. Her black eyeshadow is smeared around her eyes like a bruise, the sunlight casting her face in gold. “Transfer of memory, of consciousness to the distributed system maintained by the AI. Imagine being mingled so completely with another, you no longer need your physical self—you’re one.”

It sounds like something out of a bad romantic sci-fi novel. “So you were going to—”

“Enter the AI,” Esther clarifies sadly. “Give up our inefficient bodies so that our consciousness could live together forever.”

She watches Esther a little sadly herself. The idea of never losing your loved one… she can't say that's not appealing. She'd do anything to never lose anyone ever again. But still, the idea of losing all physical aspects of life to live on in a computer… “But Donald Gelman forbade it,” she says, assuming he must've had the same doubts she does.

Esther kneels by the remnants of the house. “He was afraid of his creation. He was afraid of what would happen if other people followed us,” she says confirming Scully's suspicions. She pulls a burned picture out of the rubble. Scully catches a flash of a man's face next to Esther’s through the ashes. “I loved him so much,” she sniffles.

Scully has heard the longing, the worry, in Esther’s voice all too many times. Echoing in her own head. She understands. “Well, maybe he wasn’t here when this happened. Maybe he’s somewhere else,” she offers, an attempt at comfort. At hope.

Esther looks wistfully back at the photo. “I just… can't bear the thought of never seeing him again,” she says, turning to Scully and motioning with her free hand. “You know?”

Her hand doesn't still, fluttering nervously through the air. Scully reaches out and stills it, clasping Esther’s fingers in hers. She thinks about all the times she'd thought Mulder dead. “I know,” she says.

---

After hours of searching and attempting to reach Mulder, Scully realizes that she and Esther might have more in common than she'd hoped. “I can't get through to Mulder,” she says to Esther, trying to ignore the churning in her belly, immediately dialing again.

“It's the AI,” Esther says, and somehow, considering the explosion in the storage facility and the ruins of David Markham’s house, this statement doesn't comfort her.

They decide to follow Mulder to the chicken farm he'd said he was at when he called earlier, trying to cut off the AI’s communication in the process. It tracks them to a bridge, and Esther flings her computer into a river. It explodes in the air. They duck, Scully's hand shooting out to Esther’s arm. When she looks up, she sees the churning water and smoke rising.

Esther is breathing hard, picking herself up from the gritty ground. “Hell of a night, baby,” she says, and Scully huffs out a laugh. “C’mon,” Esther says, tugging at her sleeve. “We have shit to do.”

In the car, on the way to Fairfax, Esther finally asks the question Scully has heard entirely too many times: “So what's the deal between you and Mulder?”

Scully gazes at Esther out of the corner of her eye. She's got her feet up on the dash (which drives Scully absolutely mad) and her hands tangled in her lap. There are still worried lines drawn on her face, tenseness in her shoulders. She's worried, expecting the worse—Scully suspects they both are. She also suspects Esther is looking for a distraction in this conversation. But she needs a distraction, too, and this is exactly how not to do it. “We're partners,” she says sternly.

Esther laughs. “Trust me, I know when two coworkers are engaged in a forbidden romance.” She waggles her fingers dramatically on the word forbidden. “And you seem real worried about this Mulder guy for him to just be a colleague.”

“He's my friend,” Scully says, smacking the wheel a little. “We're partners. We're supposed to protect each other.” She is not going to go through the entire complicated spectrum of her relationship with Mulder with a woman who handcuffed her to a steering wheel today.

Esther’s feet hit the floorboard with a thunk. “We have more in common than I thought, I guess,” she says quietly. “Except it's more likely that your boyfriend is still alive.”

Scully's fingers clench around the steering wheel. God, she can't think about the possibility of Mulder dying or she'll fall apart right here. “He's not my boyfriend,” she says firmly.

“Maybe not.” Esther crosses her arms, resting her head against the window. Black is still smeared around her eyes like a bruise; it's impossible to look away from. “But that doesn't mean you don't care.”

Scully swallows harshly and says nothing. The car rattles down the Virginia road. Esther whistles the theme of some TV show as she watches the landscape go by. Snow starts to fall.

---

They pull up to the farm under the cover of darkness, right behind Mulder’s car. Getting out, Scully moves her flashlight beam over the windows and sees that it is empty. Esther moves ahead of her, muttering something in a singsong voice. Scully follows, flashlight in hand.

They move through a wooded area to a rundown trailer in a clearing. As soon as they exit the copse of trees, a siren wails, a light coming on out of nowhere. They both cover their ears, Scully’s flashlight hitting the ground wetly. She locates the source of the shrill sound and fumbles for her gun, shoots out the light on the trailer. It explodes in a wave of sparks, the sound ceasing on her second shot. There, in the new silence, she can hear it: Mulder calling her name.

“Mulder?” she calls back. “Mulder, are you all right?”

Faintly, she hears him saying something back, but she can’t understand it. “Mulder?” she calls again, approaching the trailer, Esther at her side. “Mulder, can you hear me?” She starts for the door, but Esther shakes her head, face serious, motions underneath the trailer. Understanding, Scully crouches on the frost-crunchy grass and crawls underneath the trailer. There is an open hatch. “Mulder?” she calls again, positioning herself and moving up through it.

A little robot-like thing whirs towards her. She ducks, raising her gun through the hole and shooting four times. She hears the crackling of sparks and raises her head again warily. All clear, in a matter of speaking. She climbs through the hatch, getting to her feet and moving through the trailer. “Mulder?”

Empty but for wires and computers. “Help me out here, Esther,” she says, surveying the space. “What’s its next move? What is it thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Esther says, nervous.

“Who built this?”

“It did.” She points ahead of them, to a large surface with what looks like a human sticking out from it. “There.”

The hand looks largely lifeless. Scully’s heart thumps loudly in her chest as she approaches. She can’t see who it is until Esther’s flashlight lands on the body. Not Mulder. A man, decomposing, covered in electrical burns. “David,” Esther says with defeat, astonishment. Grief. “Oh, god.”

Nervousness building, Scully looks away, towards another harness across from them. Fear fills her as she sees who is in it. “Mulder?” she half-gasps, moving towards him.

His face is mostly covered with some kind of headpiece that looks like it belongs in a bad sci-fi movie. He’s strapped in with some kind of restraints, trapped in place. She can’t see his face. “Mulder?” she whispers again, lifting the headpiece. His eyes are held open, almost lifeless. “Mulder, can you hear me?” His mouth moves, phantom words. “Mulder, talk to me,” she says firmly, near pleading.

She jolts at a thrumming sound behind her, turns and points her gun at an ejecting CD ROM drive. “It wants the Kill Switch,” says Esther.

“Well, we don’t have it,” Scully says. “You threw it in the water with the computer.”

Esther shakes her head, takes the disc out of her pocket. She goes to the open drive, but stops, hesitating. “But that’s going to kill it, right?” Scully asks.

“Not if it can learn the program and vaccinate itself against it.”

The sound of electrical jolts behind them. Scully turns and sees Mulder’s body contorting, his fingers splayed in pain. She can’t breathe. “Give it what it wants, Esther.”

Mulder shakes as the electricity contorts through him again. God, they are going to do this until he is dead, like David. “Put it in, Esther!” she says.

The computer beeps, the familiar map coming up on its screen. “It’s targeting us,” Esther says.

Panic rising, she almost shouts, “Put it in!” Esther doesn’t move, eyes on the screen. Desperate, Scully snatches the disc herself and shoves it into place.

Twilight Time begins playing. Behind them, Mulder’s restraints come loose with a whoosh, and he slumps forward. Scully crosses to him, whispering, “You’re going to be okay.” She pulls the headgear off. “I’m going to get you out of here.” Mulder doesn’t say anything. She wants to burn this machine to the ground. “Okay,” she says, pulling at the eye restraints. She can hear Esther typing madly behind them. “It’s okay.”

He stumbles forward, nearly landing on top of her as he’s released, holding onto her like she is his life preserver. She leans into him, supports him with an arm hard around his waist and begins moving towards the hatch. He keeps his arms around her outside of using his hands to push off of the sides of the trailer as they stumble towards the exit. When they reach it, Scully realizes that Esther is not with them. She lets go of Mulder as he begins to lower himself out of the trailer and turns. “What are you doing, Esther?”

“Get out of here,” she says, not looking away from the computer.

“What are you doing?” Scully prods. She refuses to leave someone else behind. She won’t.

“Go!” Esther says firmly, sparing her a brief look.

They don’t have time to argue. Scully ducks out of the trailer and helps Mulder crawl out from under it, leans him against one of the wheels before going back under, up and through the hatch. Twilight Time is still echoing, incessantly. She might’ve liked that song a long time ago. When she gets back in the trailer, she can’t see Esther anymore. “Esther?” she calls out, panicked.

“You don’t listen, do you?” Esther calls back from some unknown place.

“Where are you?” Scully scans the trailer.

“Get out of here now!”

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, realizing. Esther won’t leave David. She doesn’t have time to try and convince her; maybe if it was just her, but Mulder… She ducks out of the trailer and claws her way across the cold ground. Mulder is slumped where she left him, still conscious, thankfully; she wraps her arm around his waist, helping him to his feet, and moves them towards the woods. She pulls him through the trees in a clumsy near-run until she hears the explosion behind her. She turns in time to see the inferno, the fire.

She swallows dryly, pressing her hand into Mulder’s chest to steady him. There is no time to mourn or to be relieved they escaped; they have to get out of here before the woods catch on fire. They turn, walking towards where she parked the car.

Scully fumbles for the keys, unlocks the passenger side and lowers Mulder into the seat. “Mulder, can you hear me?” Her hand pushes the hair off his forehead as she checks for a fever, checks his pulse. Steady, thank god. Normal heart rate. “How do you feel?”

His eyes half-closed, he mutters, “Scully?”

“It’s me.” Her fingers move over the places where he was strapped to the machine, the electrical burns. “We need to get you to a hospital,” she whispers.

“No!” The force of his words surprise her, and she lifts her head to meet his eyes. He looks uncertain, frightened. “Can’t go back…”

“Mulder, you’re burned,” she says, pressing her cold hand flat against his cheek. “You need medical attention.”

“You’re my doctor.” He catches her free wrist, fluttering over his burns up and down his arms, and holds her hand against his chest. “You… you fix me. Not them. You.”

“Okay, okay. No hospital.”

She's stroking the side of his jaw a little with her thumb and he turns into her hand, kisses the center of her palm and presses her other hand harder against his chest. “I'm glad it's really you,” he mumbles, eyelids drooping low. “Not it. Just you. The real you.”

She has no idea what he means but the fear from when he was trapped there, being electrocuted, is still hot under her skin. She can still feel it. And Esther is dead and they almost, they almost, he almost…

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him. He presses his face into her stomach. She smooths his hair, overwhelmed, before pulling away. “I have to call the local police,” she says. “Hang on, Mulder. You're okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

He mumbles something indecipherable. She ducks out of the car, leans against the side and calls 9-1-1. Some of the trees have caught on fire. She watches and thinks of Esther. She hopes she isn't really gone, that she was telling the truth. About being uploaded. About never dying, immortality. Her fingers are cold.

The police come, and the fire department, and she tells them that she is taking Mulder home to rest. After she agrees to come back in the morning and give a statement, they let her. Mulder has dozed off by the time she gets in the car; she suspects the AI gave him something to make him docile. She drives back to Alexandria and tries not to think.

In Mulder's apartment, she rinses the burns and bandages them at his kitchen table. “Tomorrow, we need to stop by the doctor's,” she says.

He closes his eyes and leans his head forward, resting his chin on the top of hers. “Okay.”

Her hand is on his knee. She squeezes it, leaning into him. Unthinking. Her eyes close as her nose brushes against his collarbone. He's holding her loosely, clumsily. She breathes in, out, her head tucked into the hollow of his neck. Pulls back, squeezing his knee again, and says, “You should get some rest, Mulder.”

His eyes still closed, he nods. She helps him up and goes to support him, but he steps away, walking towards the couch. Scully's stomach knots as she hears the jolts of electricity, again. She swallows hard and follows him.

He's curled into the back of the couch, a tiny bit of space left on the cushions. She crawls in beside him, slinging an arm over his side and leaning into his warmth. They fit, barely; he has to hold her against him to keep her from falling off. “Scully?” he whispers, uncertain, eyes huge and dark. A question.

They'd slept here only once in their brief relationship; he'd fallen off the couch with a hard thump and she couldn't stop laughing. They'd ended up sitting side by side on the floor, backs against the couch, watching TV. He held her hand, fingers tracing the softest spots of her wrist and arm. She fell asleep bonelessly against his shoulder. They'd both ached like crazy in the morning.

Scully crawls closer, wrapping herself around him and pulling the Navajo blanket slung over the back of his couch over them. “It's okay,” she says. “I'm here. It's okay.”

He's looking at her warily but says nothing more; he buries his head into the cool skin of her shoulder, where her shirt slips to the side. She can feel his hot breaths on her skin.

They've shared beds before, before they ever became a couple, and this isn't the most abnormal thing in the world, and oh fuck, he almost died. Another one lost on Dana Scully's watch, and fuck, he loves her. And she… maybe she's destined to lose everyone she loves, through death or emotional distance. She holds Mulder closer, fingers against his wrist to check his pulse. She falls asleep with her chin on his shoulder, still counting.

---

It had snowed in Virginia two nights before Scully went to San Diego. It was freezing. Mulder had used the cold as an excuse to hold Scully's hand, even though she had a rule about affection at work. “Frostbite kills, Scully,” he said seriously, locating her hand in the pockets of her trench coat. She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away, let him sleep his cold fingers through hers.

They'd gone to Scully's house because it was closer and cranked up the heat. Mulder opened the blinds in her bedroom so they could watch the snow fall. “It's pretty, huh?” he offered, crawling in beside her.

“Mm-hmm.” Scully leaned into him and he was suddenly warm all over. “Too bad I won't get a white Christmas.”

“If it snows here, I'll take pictures for you,” said Mulder.

“That's sweet.” Her cold feet brushed against his legs; she hid her smile against his shoulder. “What do you have planned for Christmas? Are you going to go up and visit your mother?”

“Actually, I thought I'd go find the Abominable Snowman,” he joked. She lifted her head to fix him with a look and he shrugged. “Haven't decided yet.”

“You could always come with me,” she said in a slow molasses voice, and even though he was sure she'd agree if he said he wanted to, they both knew she was kidding.

“I think I'll pass,” he said just as slowly. His hand traveled up and down Scully's arm and she shuddered with chilled pleasure, burrowing against him. “I'll miss you, though.”

“Mmm.” She was smiling against his shoulder again, wider; she kissed the curve of it through the cotton of his shirt. “I'll miss you, too.” He smiled, too, at the ceiling, his fingers traveling down her arm again to take her hand. “I think I'll be back for New Year's actually,” she added.

“Really.” He squeezed her hand. “I think I can cancel my standing appointment with the Gunmen to spend it with you.”

“How generous.” She rested her chin on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “Sounds nice. I can't wait.” Her voice was thick with genuine affection, and he turned to face her, their noses nearly brushing. She was grinning softly.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispered confidentially. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” she whispered back.

“It's midnight,” he whispered. He leaned forward, his mouth colliding with hers.

They'd never made it to New Year's; Scully spent the holiday by her dying daughter's hospital bed. That was the last time they shared a bed as well. (In San Diego, he'd accepted Bill's head-jerk motion towards the couch without question; better not to arouse the wrath of Scully's brother.) The last time until that night. That morning.

Mulder wakes up warm all over, with Scully lying half on top of him, her bare feet sticking off the couch. His nose is pressed against the side of her neck, breathing in her scent. Her hair is brushing over his face. Confused, he wraps his arms around her waist. She murmurs something, nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

The events of the night unevenly rattle through his head. Hallucinations. Computer nurses and amputated arms. Scully comforting him. Scully crawling in beside him on the couch. The inferno in the forest. “Scully,” he whispers. “Scully?”

“Mmm.” She shifts against him. “Mulder?”

“Yeah.” He loosens his hold on her and waits for her to wake up. “What happened?”

Scully's eyes flutter open. Brief confusion, then panic, then something that might fall somewhere between embarrassment and a resigned acceptance. She rolls off of him and sits on the edge of the couch, rubbing her eyes. “How do you feel, Mulder?”

“Fine,” he says. “A little sore, maybe, but… why were you…”

A faint blush spreads over Scully's cheekbones. She shrugs. “I was worried about you. I didn't want to leave you alone.”

Mulder drags his teeth over his lower lips, considering. He doesn't mind sharing his makeshift bed with her—quite the opposite, actually—but somehow, he doesn't think this is a segue into getting back together. If Scully's face provides any clue, it definitely isn't. She looks guilty and embarrassed. “Scully…” he starts, uncertain.

“I need to check on your burns,” she says determinedly, turning to face him. Their eyes meet, and she looks completely professional now. As if crawling in and sleeping beside your patient/partner is totally normal behavior. “And then, if you're feeling up to it, we need to go back to Fairfax. The local police and firemen handled the explosion sight, but they'd like our side of things.”

“Sure,” Mulder says with a sigh, shifting into a sitting position on the couch.

There's blisters up and down his arms, but no signs of infection. Scully washes and rebandages the wounds before heading into the bathroom to freshen up. Mulder downs two painkillers and changes into a clean suit in his room. They leave about a half hour later, Scully driving, Mulder rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to pick absently at his bandages.

He knows little to nothing about medical jargon, but he knows you're not supposed to break open blisters, or else you risk infection. He feels like Scully staying with him the night before was the equivalent of breaking open a blister. Now they're risking infection.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Monday, February 26

Sid: This is what I do. I hunt demons. Yeah, you wouldn't know it to look at me. Let's just say there was me, there was a really mean demon, there was a curse, and the next thing I know I'm not me anymore. I'm sitting on some guy's knee, with his hand up my shirt. WILLOW: And ever since then you've been a living dummy? Sid: The kid here was right all along. I shoulda picked you to team up with. But I didn't because... BUFFY: Because you thought *I* was the demon. Sid: Who can blame me for thinking? Look at you! You're strong, athletic, limber... nubile... I'm back! In any case, now that this demon's got the heart and brain, he gets to keep the human form he's in for another seven years. GILES: I must say, it's a welcome change to have someone else explain all these things.

~~The Puppet Show ~~

The Herald is looking for an editor to handle Thursday's newsletter! If you are interested, please send us an ask!

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Seize The Day (Buffy/Angel, G) by badly_knitted

Roots (Giles, T) by DHW

Untitled (Spike/Reader, T) by make-me-imagine

[Chaptered Fiction]

Chapter Fifteen of All About the Mission (Buffy/Spike, E) by slaymesoftly

Woman with No Name Ch. 1/9 (Angel, X-Files xover, Once A Thief xover) by Eliann_SleepingCat

Coven of Hope Ch. 14 (Willow/Tara, M) by gimpy72

Tricked Ch. 14 (Buffy/Faith, M) by Hayley128

Escape Velocity Ch. 3 (Buffy/Angel, M) by

The Book of Knowledge Chronicles Ch. 46 (Spike/OC, T) by HarriettWithTea

Requested Bonds Ch. 4 (Tara/Faith, M) by rebelrsr

Here We Go, Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, E) by halincandenza

Something Old, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, M) by yellowb

Chains and Champions, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, M) by booklover721

127 Days, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, T) by zarryspolo

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Buffy/Angel Wallpaper by blondebitz

Artwork: Buffy, Faith, and Willow by lilbtvs

Artwork: Anne by jenniferstolzer

Artwork: Oz & Willow by jenniferstolzer

Artwork: Faith by jenniferstolzer

Artwork: Prinicpal Snyder by jenniferstolzer

Artwork: Tara & Faith by lesbidar

Artwork: () by

Video: In This Twilight (Buffy) by ltcastillo

[Reviews & Recaps]

BTVS Rewatch Season 1 Episode 1: Welcome To The Hellmouth by thedoctorsprincess

S3.E20 Graduation Day - Part 1 by i-slay-we-slay

S3.E20 Graduation Day - Part 1 by i-slay-we-slay

S3.E19 Choices by i-slay-we-slay

S3.E20 The Prom by i-slay-we-slay

S3.E21 Graduation Day - Part 1 by i-slay-we-slay

Video: Top 10 Buffy or Angel Episodes (that remind us that everything is going to be all right) by Passion of the Nerd

PODCAST: The Art of Slaying Episode 155: Path to Redemption Episode 6 The Past is Never the Past by

[Community Announcements]

Challenge 588 - Forget at femslash100

Round 88 Theme Poll by fancake

Challenge Week, Day 1 by fic-promptly

[Fandom Discussions]

Commentary on TPN's Top Ten BtVS episodes podcast by shadowkat

Why do you think wuffy isn't a bigger ship? by lesbidar

Should Spike's behavior towards Buffy on S6 be compared to Angelus' towards Buffy on S2? by sulietsexual

Parallels in Heartthrob by we-pay-for-everything

How is everyone like when it's time to go to bed? by lilbtvs

Why isn't Giles aware that the Slayer line can be redirected if the original Slayer’s heart is temporarily stopped? by dreamsofghostsandstars

BtVS Make Me Chooses by willowrosenboob

Buffy ending with 12 seasons is very pleasing to me by lilyginnyblackv2

What’s something you think the fandom gives a character an unreasonable amount of slack for, and what’s something you think fans unreasonably resent them for? by spikesjojo

How do you think the ship and the show would be different if Spike had been planned as an endgame (or at least major) love interest from Day 1? by spuffyappreciationblog

Thoughts on willow? by starshollowisonahellmouth

A Different Kind of Hell - A Buffy Fanfiction, & Feb 2018 Contest Winner Announced by thesunnydalefanficclub

BtVS Make Me Chooses by we-pay-for-everything

Thoughts on Willow and Cordelia's characters by sulietsexual

Grown Up Giles? by Multiple Authors

Buffy The Vampire Slayer, The Complete Series by dreammov13

Buffy The Vampire Slayer, The Complete Series Part II by dreammov13

Willow in the AV Room by Multiple Authors

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