#had fun!

[noried]

marchy light study 🐀

[lesbokyoko]

And at the end of the world, let's just dance

[nyxtickled]

anyway just had one of my text posts read back to me for the first time and unfortunately i will now be deactivating so that i never post anything ever again in my life! thanks!

[surkeart]

My nephew got me into Poppy Playtime, here's Yarnaby! Prints available at Tampere Kuplii later this month.

[randomfoggytiger]

For ur send me an au: what do you think of werewolf!scully 👀

"She Seemed Pretty Upset Last Night"

Werewolf fic!

[Ao3]

*****

One second she was careening through the woods, flashlight refracting off the trees like a thousand panicked fireflies; the next she was on the ground, dazed.

Choking on a scream, chin slamming into the ancient dirt. Squirming, frantic, elbow splintering under primal force and blood-slicked claws. Pinned, breathless, by a snarling, vengeful form. Two rows of teeth-- fangs, detached reason noted-- sank just below the back of her neck with punishing impact.

It had missed the killing blow. The creature raged, worrying her body with an intelligence that would have terrified had she not been lost in the panic of spit and blood and foam.

"Mulder!" Scully begged-- her last words before a gunshot, two, three rang out.

Her attacker dropped in the dark, burrowing her under tacky fur and noxious sweat. She was unconscious before she could vomit.

*-*-*-*-*

Scully woke in sterile brightness, Mulder portside with twelve strands of unidentified animal fur in an evidence bag. His eyes told her they'd talked before. She didn't remember anything.

Except her dream: Lyle Parker crying over his dead father. Lyle, who Mulder insisted had been possessed with a Manitou spirit, spread across his father's cabin floor, mistaken for a wild animal.

Not a dream-- she'd sat at his bedside, too, and commiserated with his pain.

"The doctor said you're healing well," Mulder began, stretching his fingers lightly over her cast. "That it didn't...." He motioned towards the back of his neck, vaguely waved a semi-circle. "Disturb anything." The chip.

There was nothing to say, except, "What happened?"

"Marlon Zites is dead." Her neck itched, stung. "The local team stopped asking questions after they had a body and an easy explanation."

"But he didn't attack me."

Her partner tented his hands, buried his mouth and nose and stared with conflicted, undisguised worry.

"Mulder, you were there. Zites didn't-- whatever attacked me couldn't have been him."

He remained silent, jaw clenching.

He was withholding.

*-*-*-*-*

It was too bright.

It was too loud-- shrieks, shudders, cries, shots, screams, danger, dangerdangerdanger--

She was trapped, there were things around her, in her, on her. Clinging to her skin-- her raw, shredded, bruised, aching skin. They wouldn't go, they wouldn't give way, they wouldn't stop touching her, she needed to escape--

She fell over, clumsy, desperate. Charged upright, fled, fell into a corner, then another, then another. Banged against a more fragile surface. Returned, banged again. Escape, escape, escape--

Leaped, noise, pain, tearing, burning, faster, escape--

Sped off into the dark on all fours.

*-*-*-*-*

Scully woke on the ground four nights later, bolted upright as the smell of blood saturated her senses. It was dark, too dark-- there was someone on top of her, she was wrapped in something. Lyle Parker, Marlon Zites, lycanthropy, Manitou, werewolves--

"Scully, Scully, don't move. It's me, Scully."

Mulder.

She stopped, sinking into the ache of suspended animation. Her body heaved and trembled. She hadn't felt this weak since....

He was quiet, holding her with gentle force as she began to cry, logical brain clinging to rational assurances, battered soul dissolving in exhaustion.

He continued shushing her until the woods lit up with voices, friendly calls swarming around their enclosed circuit.

*-*-*-*-*

"There was a full moon." Mulder carefully sat down, handed over a takeout container, kept his eyes trained on hers as she digested his theory. "The nurses said they heard an, an explosion from your room. Could've sworn an animal had broken in and couldn't get out. By the time they arrived, it had jumped back through the window."

"But that's not what you believe."

He set his cup aside-- a perfunctory purchase, to go with hers. "You said you don't remember what happened."

Scully looked down, slid a finger over her shredded nails. "No. But... Mulder, how could...."

"I think... I think you were bitten. And that you," he paused, shifted beside her, "turned."

Her body throbbed. She needed to scrub off organic forest matter from head to heel. She needed to retreat back to Georgetown, away from nervous glances and inescapable conclusions. "Mulder...."

I'm afraid.

Mulder exhaled, shuttled closer. For once, he had nothing to say.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic.

For headcanons:

Mulder will never be able to stash old or dirty laundry somewhere without her knowing about it.

Scully suddenly has an advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

Depending on the type of werewolf she is, she could either control her shape shifting like a superpower or be a victim to its-- or the moon cycle's-- whims.

I like the idea of Mulder turning her back into a person with an item of her clothing-- a gesture of love that reaches her humanity.

Scully will never live down the cannibalistic Queequeg comparisons.

Pfaster's in for an extra bad time.

[bugdogg]

okay maybe i figured out what to do w it :3

[talesfromthecrypts]

And what would it feel like? A joyful note? Without change, without end? Heaven? There’s no music in that. But this... There is so much more the body can be made to feel. And you’ll feel it all before we’re through.

Hellraiser (2022) dir. David Bruckner