I have now been in the x files fandom for about a year and as a thank you to all that mutuals and friends that I have made over this time, I have decided to start a project and paint a scene from everyone’s favourite episode to show them my gratitude. The episodes will be picked in a random order.
The Goldberg Variation is for @mypanicface. My loaf you are the whole reason my art gets posted in the first place, you inspired me to start drawing regularly! You are someone I look up to and you have made my time so far in the fandom amazing, you are such a blessed loaf mein Brötchen ❤️
The Goldberg Variation — The X Files painting [2/25]
s8 fic | within/without | general | psychic!scully | based on fanart by @mypanicface | ao3 |
Based upon @mypanicface 's art Part One: Slow Healing. The concept of this is all her, I just liked that it fit my psychic!scully theory.
@today-in-fic | @mypanicface |
Here
She wasn’t alone.
An arm lies across her body, a chest heaves- pressing into her back with every exhale, breath lingers on the back of her neck.
The scent of Mulder surrounds her. She looks down at her hands that still hold the shirt, her breath caught, scared that if she even breathes it will just be an illusion.
“If I knew you missed me that much I’d have come home sooner,” he laughs but Scully is taken aback by the sound of his voice. His voice! A sound she hadn’t heard in months, loud and clear in her ears. Tears start to form in her eyes.
“Mulder?” she cautiously says, his name muttered for the first time in weeks. “Are you really here?”
She tries to keep her scepticism away but that fear to believe was too strong. What if he wasn’t really here? What if she was finally meeting a breaking point and this was the form it decided to show itself in?
But finally she hears the sentence she needs to hear.
“I’m here, Scully.”
She lets herself fall back into him, allowing him to catch her, trusting that he would, knowing that he would.
She lets the tears fall freely, sobs an, “Oh, Mulder…”
“Shh, Dana,” he soothes and she quietens instantly. “Believe I’m here and I’ll always be here.”
Hey, do you know if Mish from the original run is still around? You recently recced Intuitive Reasoning by them, that's how i found out about their fic. I tried to send them an email to the address they gave but it's no longer in use. (Not surprising after 20 years, but sometimes those old addresses are still in use and the writers reply) I'd really like to tell them how much some of their fics moved me. If you or your followers have any idea how to contact them, I'd appreciate it a lot 💕
I unfortunately do not know how to contact Mish. I've tried finding her for my Old School X interview project but have been unsuccessful.
If you know how to contact Mish (or if you are Mish!), let me know since at least @mypanicface and I would enjoy talking to her about X-Files fic! 🤩
h/c or angst prompt: "is there anything else i can do for you?" - "just be here when i wake up" Maybe in s8 after mulders abduction, when he's still distant towards scully? (But feel free to interpret it as you like)
Thank you so much for the prompt! It’s a hurt/comfort post-ep for “Empedocles”. Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober
Fictober Day 23
Scully holds on to the doll he’s just given her, gently stroking its face, and Mulder watches her, feeling calmer than he has in a while. He barely remembers it but has been told by his parents, and his grandmother, that he took that doll everywhere with him when he was little. It had been his constant companion, his keeper of unintelligible, childish secrets, his nightmare slayer. Until Samantha was born, that is.
As soon as his baby sister was able to hold it, the doll became hers. And he became her big brother. It was his job to protect her, to keep her secrets safe, and to tell her happy stories whenever she was sad.
“Who made this doll?” Scully asks him, the soft smile still on her lips.
“I don’t know,” he says, wondering why he’d never asked. “It was just always there. It was mine before I gave it to Samantha.”
“So this doll has a long history, hm?”
“Yeah.” He chokes on the simple word.
“It means a lot to me,” Scully says, her voice full of emotion as well. “That you gave it to me. To our – to the baby.” She’s always blushed easily but now even more so. She looks away from him, focuses on the doll instead. He’s been an asshole. The word is harsh, even in his own mind. He’s still trying to catch up with the last six months that he’s missed. It feels like a whole lifetime.
“Scully, I-“ but he’s still not ready. Not quite. “Is it okay if I eat? I’m hungry.” Her soft laugh is music to his ears.
“Eat, Mulder. I might steal a bite or two.”
“You really should eat something,” he says gently after his first slice. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and picks up another one. Scully watches and he can see it in her eyes that she wants a piece.
“Hmm, so good,” he moans, eyeing her.
“Fine,” she says, “I want a bite.” He offers her the rest of the slice and she bites into it, closing her eyes. All he can do is hold on to the pizza and watch her, his mouth half open.
“Good?” he asks when she opens her eyes again, licking her lips.
“Very,” she says, sounding happy.
They eat half the pizza before Scully is yawning more than eating, her eyes constantly drifting close. Mulder takes the plates and the pizza into the kitchen, cleaning up. He takes his time, relishing every moment he gets to spend here. Right now, Scully’s apartment feels more like home than his own.
“Hey,” he says with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder when he returns to the living room. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
She stares at him for a long moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her fingers curl around the doll. He’s glad he gave it to her. Seeing her with it is one of the few things that seem right these days.
“I’m not sure I can ask you,” she says in a small voice that puts a dent into his heart.
“You can ask me anything, Scully.”
“Just be here when I wake up?” Tears spring to her eyes. “I don’t- you don’t have to stay here. I just…”
“It’s all right,” he whispers, swallowing his own tears. “I can be here when you wake up. I won’t leave, Scully. I won’t.” With his thumb, he catches the tears from her eyes that spill over despite her trying to keep them at bay. He presses a kiss on each warm cheek and she laughs softly, a bit shakily.
“I just… I like having you around.”
“I like being around. I know I’ve not been the best…” what is he? Friend? Partner? Boyfriend?
“I understand, Mulder. I don’t blame you. I just miss you so much. I’ve been missing you for so long and I- it’s the hormones.”
“Hormones, huh?” He eyes her stomach. “Can I-“
“Mulder, you don’t have to ask. It’s your baby too.”
He’s known it. Of course he’s known it. But hearing the words, hear Scully say them to his face, is everything he didn’t know he needed. His hand comes to rest on her stomach. It still amazes him that they did this; created a life together.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?” Scully asks, putting her hand close to his so that their fingertips are touching.
“For everything.” He kisses her stomach. “For believing in me, for saving me. For loving me.” He looks at her when he says it.
“You don’t need to thank me for that.”
He nods. “But thank you anyway. Now let me help you into bed before you fall asleep on the couch.”
“I’m heavier these days,” she complains when he helps her up. “And I take up way more space in bed than I used to do.” He’s not going to tell her that she’s always pushed him to the edge of the bed. He’s never minded and he won’t start now.
I know you asked for this ages ago, loaf. I've honestly been putting it off because of the sheer intimidation of trying to recreate your masterpiece. I you like hope my acrylic version.
House of Mirth fic for @mypanicface because I agree, the world and this site does desperately need more HoM content.
850 words, read here on AO3
The envelopes were on her desk, and she sat on her bed, the bottle, unstoppered, brought to her mouth with trembling hands, cold glass against her chapped lips when there came a knock on the door. But, oh, how she just wanted to sleep. A more hurried knock and her eyes slipped shut, the lip of the bottle clinking against her teeth.
The door burst open, slamming against the wall with a terrific crash, and Seldon’s cry of her name. With a start, the bottle jolted from her grasp and it fell to the floor, the neck cracking and chloral spilling.
‘Lily?’ he knelt by her, hand brushing her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. She was drawn and pallid, everything about her muted and numb. She raised glazed eyes to him, gave a watery smile. ‘Lily, what are you doing? What did you take?’
‘I am so very tired and all I wish is to sleep.’
‘What did you take? I need to know.’
‘I dropped the chloral,’ an exhausted sigh, ‘it appears to have spilled. I just wish to sleep.’
‘Here, let me make you tea,’ he guided her by the arm, her figure brittle and birdlike, to her desk and sat her down, taking note of the two envelopes placed there, before looking around the room for a kettle. Once one was found and put to boil he kept his eyes on her at all times, ‘what you were talking about, Lily, earlier, when you mentioned not seeing me for a long while, when you talked of whatever may happen; what were you planning, Miss Bart?’
‘To sleep. I am so tired, Lawrence.’
‘I know. I do not wish for you to sleep yet though, Lily. How long did you have the letters?’
‘I don’t…’ she cast her mind back, heavy head drooping, ‘after that week in Bellmont, the one with Percy Gryce.’
‘I remember.’
‘A maid had seen me leaving your rooms. Thought I might find them of some interest.’
‘Why did you keep them?’ he frowned, pouring tea and bringing it over to settle it by her hand.
‘To protect you. I could not have society drag your name like they have mine,’ she gave a weak, bitter smile. ‘I figured they should be returned to their owner. Before I…well.’
‘It was no more than a flirtation. Unrequited. You understand that, don’t you?’
She shook her head, lifted her spoon to absently stir her tea, ‘Bertha has wiles about her even I do not understand.’
‘Her wiles never ensnared me. No. I should tell you something, Lily. Something I did not have the words for earlier.’
‘Oh?’
‘I did not love you for a moment‘- he watched her swallow thickly and turn her face away –‘I have loved you for an eternity. Since the moment we met, you have captivated and intrigued me. I thought… I believed I would not be good enough for you, and even if I was that you would never love me. Why should you? But I think you do, Lily. Tell me now if I am being forward, but I love you, and I want your burdens and your worries to be mine to bear.’
‘You do not-‘
‘I do, Lily. Let me once more offer you an escape. I want to marry you. I want to see you happy, and healthy. I want to see you smile again as I kiss your lips. I never want to leave your side.’
‘You cannot want that,’ she shook her head, heavy and worn out, ‘for I have nothing to offer you. I have no money, no standing.’
‘Then offer only yourself, for that is all I want. We could weather one thousand storms if only we had one another, Lily,’ he took her frail hand, cold and bony and trembling.
‘You will tire of me as everyone else does.’
At that he laughed; a soft, huffed thing, ‘I could never: you will continue beguiling me long after we are both dead. It wouldn’t be a perfect life, it wouldn’t be the life that you are used to, but it will be a life; together. All you must say is yes. I love you, Lily Bart. And I cannot spend another day without you.’
She reached a hand out for him; touched his nose, his cheek. ‘Are you real? Am I dreaming of you?’
‘I’m as real as anything.’ She hummed, nodded. ‘Is that a yes?’
‘Yes. Yes. We shall live in your flat and drink tea and smoke cigarettes. And we will be happy,’ her voice took on a wistful tone, a soft, sleepy smile cast across her face.
He nodded, tucked an errant curl of copper behind her ear and smiled, ‘ready for bed, Lily. We will talk more in the morning.’
She sighed and her face fell, ‘the chloral spilled. I doubt there is any left.’
‘You don’t need it, Lily. You are so tired already. Come, ready for bed and I will read until you sleep.’
‘You would do that?’
‘Of course,’ he helped her up, ‘I would do anything for you.’
