I tried painting this gorgeous Scully frame (this is the 3rd attempt) :')
will byers stan first human second
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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Jules of Nature
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@eggshellheart
I tried painting this gorgeous Scully frame (this is the 3rd attempt) :')
The second a new X-Files recruit joins Tumblr.com
Thinking of your reposts, @laurencem~
Gillovny Jigsaw 1
Like a jigsaw puzzle, you cannot determine what the picture is by examining one piece. But when you start putting them together, you will eventually be able to guess the whole.
i need them carnally
Code "Paranormal25" for 25% off VIP tickets or Code "Phile10" for 10% off everything else
We need to boost ticket sales or are at risk of having to cancel. Please get your tickets now!
If you come, youâll get to see me moderate a bunch of panels!
More guests incoming, btw!!
you CANNOT miss this!!!!!
how to say "I love you" in x-files [87/?] ‷ 1.05 â âThe Jersey Devilâ
Collector's Edition: Curated SlippinMickeys
A collection of short fics to celebrate @slippinmickeys's birthday!
Loose chronological order below~
@slippinmickeys/SlippinMickeys/Slippinâ Mickeysâs
L'appel du VideÂ
Gross misconduct, a career in tatters, but the urge is so compelling she has to squeeze her fingernails into her palm until the pain distracts her.Â
Mulder, Scully, and a motel room in Bellefleur.
Three Sentence Prompts - Chapter 13 (Tumblr)
âFox!â from somewhere east of the organic section, her voice a little too cheerful. He hadnât called her after the last time heâd been with her â Scully had sailed back into his life a few months later and heâd left Donna astern, only to be thought of in passing.
S1 Mulder is no longer available.
Prompt Drabble Collection - Chapter 41 (Tumblr)
âBut whatâs he like ?â Missy asks, hand curled around a chunky mug, her fingers playing with the string of a tea bag. She asks as though itâs a question with an easy answer, like Mulderâs some sandy-haired podiatrist who enjoys cooking and tennis.Â
âI donât know,â Scully answers truthfully. âHeâs⊠brooding. Quick-witted. Intelligent.â
Melissaâs eyebrows go up. She probably shouldnât have led with brooding .Â
S1 Scully defends herself to Melissa.
Not a prompt, just something I've been playing with forever and actually had a few minutes last night to sit with it.
The plum-colored hollows under her eyesâeven from twenty feet awayâeven through a windowâpractically took him out at the knees.Â
He has to psyche himself up to walk into the room, something he has never had to do outside an autopsy bay. Usually, if sheâs in a room, itâs where he wants to be, too.Â
Heâd hovered in the hallway, waiting for her mother and brother to leave, and strolls in with a smile and a positivity so forced it borders on hysterical.Â
Ahead Into Gallilee
Summary:Â For the anon prompt âFive Times A Character Didnât Dieâ
Title: Ahead Into Galilee
By: Aloysia Virgata
Rating: M
Category: MSR
Timeline: Pilot - Requiem
Notes:Â Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the read-through!
***
For the anon prompt âFive Times A Character Didnât Dieâ
ASK ME ANYTHING, SHE SAYS
Olay, DO MORE FISHER KING đđŒââïž
He marries her on the Vineyard in October. She didnât want to be a June bride. She didnât want to sweat and have her hair frizz and her fine vellum skin be lumpy with mosquito bites. She wanted to be cool and auburn and lovely, and itâs why he married her at all.
***
He gazed at her like a siren on a rock, like she was the last thing heâd see before it went pitch-black. She wore silk the color of Labor Day whitecaps and her veil was summer-storm mist. He loved her the way we love fire; primal and aching and fiercely hominid. He burned for her because it is a pleasure to burn.
***
He could not have cared less about the wedding but hoped she would. She hadnât, though sheâd looked at the obnoxious ring with a certain grudging respect. âItâs carbon arranged in the most boring way possible,â she observed, letting all (nearly) three carats catch the light. ââAnd itâs gorgeous. I love it.â
Her sapphire eyes, her garnet hair. And heâd given her a diamond, so clear and bland.
She didnât love it, not really, and he knew it. Knew she loved it because his mother thought Catholics were simpletons and, more importantly, staff. His mother was Jewish by blood and WASP by raising. His mother preferred natural fibers. His mother excelled at tennis.
It was a family piece. It was The Done Thing, even on her plebeian Catholic finger, slim and pale and lovely as a moonbeam. His mother flinched but never balked. She was properly brought up, and her son had made a decision. She was a lady and so was Danaâs mother, in her sweetly aspiring way.
Their mothers wept and he beamed down at her like a demigod; like the Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed With The Sun.
***
He worshipped her properly later, before the applewood fire. He tossed his lot in with hers and he felt like some dukeâs second son, unbound by obligation.
âFox,â she moaned, and he loved that too. They were virgins again that night. They brushed one another like purple fruits, ripe to bursting on the vine.
***
He was appalled by how he wanted to put a baby in her, by how âwifeâ changed everything he thought he understood about himself.
The ring, clear as the waters of the Euphrates by day, was opalescent and clouded beneath the moon.
âChrist,â he moaned into the hot vanilla silk of her throat. âChrist, fuck, DanaâŠâ
The tulle of her rucked-up gown left scratches on her thighs, like the tongue of a cat, and neither of them ever noticed.
***
She was a doctor again in the morning, and he was a Special Agent, and the sun was pale as straw in the weakening light.
Bonus Old Chem Prompt
For Nicole.
1. âSo whatâs your area of study?â he said. âI canât believe I havenât thought to ask.â
They were walking to their cars, so late that it could properly be called early. The storm cells had finished passing through by midnight, and the air was as humid and thick as hot soup. She nudged him companionably with her shoulder.Â
They had talked all night, but the storm and the dark and the mood had leant the night an air of confidence, and theyâd talked about big-picture stuff; hopes, fears, childhood traumas, until Scully began to yawn and the weather outside had quieted. All the stuff you talk about once you get past the getting-to-know-you phase had been hashed out and argued. All that was left were the details.Â
âI study the chemical processes of negligible and negative senescence,â she said.Â
His mental rolodex whirled until the right catalog card came up. He looked down at her in wonder.Â
âImmortality?â he said, unable to keep the intrigue out of his voice.Â
âClose enough.â
âThatâs wild.âÂ
âDonât knock it âtil youâve tried it,â she said impishly. Then, âThis is me.â
She stopped in front of a silver Volkswagen Passat, and Mulder pivoted until he was standing in front of her.Â
âI enjoyed my time in the dark with you,â he said, his voice a little low.Â
âLetâs do it again,â she said, and then lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed her lips into his, lingering there.Â
When she finally pulled away, he was a little lightheaded and dazed.Â
âIâd like that,â he finally managed to say.Â
We absolutely do not deserve you
GILLIAN ANDERSON as DANA SCULLY The X Files, 'Redux'
THE X-FILES | 1.02
More late night Scully sketches
the delivery of mulder's "marry me" in chinga oh lord.... he MEANT IT.
like. "if there's an iced tea in that bag it could be love" is joking. "should we be picking out china patterns or what" is joking. "is this demonstration of boyish agility turning you on at all" is joking. but when he says "marry me" he looks so swept away and awe of scully MY GOD
Prompt: Jealous Mulder and Scully reassuring him, UST. Thank you!
âCan I die?â she asked him once, dreamy with wine just after Ritter.
âOf course,â he said, broody, not really believing it. He didnât know which answer he wanted for her.
Sheâd smiled at him with lushly purpled lips, the way she is now in upstate New York, in Ellicottville, where theyâre undercover and investigating an art gallery owner for money laundering. Sheâs wearing a strapless blue silk dress right now and it swirls around her ankles like the sea at night.
People look at her the way some wolves must have looked at fire once. They understand that there is warmth in her, that there is light. That she can burn and burn and burn without being consumed.
He canât. He feels himself being used up, hollowing out inside from his own cold, unquenchable flame. Gouging, he thinks, because he is a profiler.
Lumenizing, he thinks, because Scully is a doctor.
The gallery owner has been eye-fucking Scully for four days and Mulder is growing weary of it. Heâs doing it right now, at this vineyard, where heâs pretending to be surprised to see them even though he recommended it.
Scully laughs a little, flirts a little the way sheâs gotten better at doing. Shows her beautiful white throat. The gallery owner smiles at her, enchanted by her tourmaline eyes, her burnished hair.
âExcuse us,â she says after a few moments. Steers Mulder towards a side table with the press of her slim fingers on his arm.
They burn too, through his clothes.
She swallows the rest of her wine in a gulp. âWhat an asshole,â she remarks, peering back over her shoulder.
âHitting on my wife in front of me is a bold move,â he observes, even though itâs the point of this little game theyâre playing out.
Scully waggles her fingers so that the ring catches the light. âMaybe you should be a touch more possessive,â she suggests, her voice just past throaty.
He looks at her, then past her out the window. âThat you talking or Mrs. Daphne Tillyard?â
âWhat do you want?â Thereâs so much in the question.
He shakes his head. Jerse, Van Blundht, Padgett, this idiot and a hundred other idiots. He wants their audacity, their risk tolerance. He wants her toothy smile, wants to kiss her without the threat of sorrow or damnation.
âScully I-â
âDaphne.â
âDaphne.â He reaches out, runs a finger down her temple, over her cheekbone. He stops at the corner of her mouth. Her pupils dilate, her lips part.
âMulder,â she whispers, husky. Her tongue is visible. She leans her cheek into his palm. âHeâs not⊠it isnât real.â
They could do this. Itâs been brewing, fermenting for years and maybe tonight, maybe here, he can let himself do what he couldnât even after the fungus.
He thumbs her chin, watches her searching eyes a beat longer. âLeo,â he corrects. He brushes her hair from her eyes and walks out to the back deck alone.
Just read all the Henry stuff you wrote! Itâs so good! Can we please have some more?)) pretty please?)))
Oh, bless. Henry is my albatross. As a woman who was a teen girl in the 90âs and a secret romantic I want Mulder and Scully together 4 EVRRR!!!!
But as a woman who has watched so goddamn many of her friends in toxic relationships Iâm also like DANA KATHERINE SCULLY GTFO THIS ABSOLUTELY SHIT RELATIONSHIP.
I struggle, man. People want Henry and Scully shmoopy fic. They want Scully leaving him for Mulder. And I also want both.
What have I done? Sigh.
***
She loves him, her gentle, straightforward husband. She loves his children, who love her back but revere their mother, the dead and saintly Joan.
The dogs, at least, are reliably fickle. They revere anyone with snacks.
Henry in a tuxedo, handsome in the way of freshman biology professors and the bachelor uncles of high school best friends. Henry would buy you a malted, would walk you home, would defend your honor. Would love you until your splintered heart knit back together like a comminuted fracture.
She adores him in a way that is unfair to him.
Scully - no. Dana. But old habits haunt hard.
Dana is in a strapless silk dress the color of an August thunderstorm, the color of an angry sea. A dress cut like a first kiss, a last kiss. Like a long goodbye.
Viv helped her pick it, Viv with the endless ripened-peach beauty of eighteen.
âGorgeous,â the other guests tell her, and she tosses her russet head as Henryâs wife must. As Dr. Scully must. She bares her pretty white arms, her pretty white throat. The ropes of freshwater pearls click softly.
Tchaikovskyâs Sleeping Beauty Waltz begins and Henry beams down at her with his hand at her back. They are beautiful in the mirrors and she knows it and she likes it. She likes her long red hair and her handspan waist and Henry like Cary Grant.
Henry dips her and she laughs, happy. She likes that too, being happy. She was sad for a long time.
In the mirror is Mulder at the corners; she sees him hold out his hand to her for the shadowed dance they did for so long. It was a tango more than a waltz, it was a minor key more than it was ever a major. It was painful and sweet and lonesome and violent.
Henry kisses her beneath the chandelier, cups her face in his big hand. âI love you,â he mouths.
She smiles up at him. âI love you too.â And she does, oh, she does. She rests her head against his chest, against his solid, endless heart.
Dana - Scully - closes her eyes until Mulder slips away, William slips away. The shadows gather in the mirrors, in the corners, and they are alone together in the crowded room.
I love it and I wonât apologize