#rocheport

[charlottebellamy]

🍷🍷🍷

[khsilversmith]

#currentmood #rocheport #missouri #wine #whoknew #missouririver #rose #jewelerslife #metalsmith https://www.instagram.com/p/B09PkNrl5CO/?igshid=10lp75xhgls4e

[prxncxssofgxnxvxx]

little things 🌙 . . . . #style #stylist #styleblog #streetstyle #styleblogger #fashion #fashionblogger #ootn #outfit #igstyle #fashionblog #outfitinspo #city #travel #women #columbia #rocheport (at Stephens College)

[prxncxssofgxnxvxx]

Didn’t realize that “table for 2” meant the whole restaurant to ourselves 😋 . . . . . #style #stylist #styleblog #streetstyle #styleblogger #fashion #fashionblogger #ootn #outfit #igstyle #fashionblog #outfitinspo #city #travel #women #columbia #rocheport (at Blufftop Bistro)

[sitting-on-me-bum]

Purple Coneflowers and Butterflies

Rocheport, Missouri

Jack Eads, Rocheport, Missouri

[scullyphile]

if you're still taking prompts, 19 or 37 or both! :~)

19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”

37. “Wanna dance?”

–

“Start with the trim at the top,” Scully orders, positioning a very tall ladder against the side of the house.

“At the top. Of the house. Maybe I could start down here, near the bottom.”

“Mulder, have you developed a fear of heights?”

“I don’t have a fear of heights, I have a fear of this ladder. What year is it from? 1882?”

“I borrowed it from the guy down the road. He says he uses it all the time.”

“The guy with the eye patch and the peg leg? What does he know about painting houses, Scully? All he does is plunder all day long.”

“Are you somehow operating under the assumption that Mr. Hernandez is a pirate? He has neither a peg leg nor an eye patch. At least, he didn’t this morning when I borrowed the ladder.”

“He’s a suspicious character, is all I mean. I don’t trust him.”

“Mulder, you don’t trust anyone. Do you want to paint the house, or do you want it to look like shit all the time?”

“I wanna dance. Wanna dance?”

“Don’t change the subject. If you’re not going to do it, I’ll paint it by myself,” she threatens, hoping he’ll stop her before she has to climb the death trap of a ladder. She dips a brush in the black paint intended for the trim and sneakily gets some on her index finger without his noticing.

“I’ll do it, Scully. I’ll do it. But you have to hold the ladder. I’m not going to dangle from a gutter like some fool in a sitcom. I promise you that.”

“On second thought,” she says, stepping closer to him. “I would like to dance.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she answers, painting a mustache on his face. “I want to tango!”